"Doc Savage Adventure 1934-11 Death in Silver" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

So symmetrically was his giant frame developed that, seen at a distance and away from objects to which his size might be compared, he appeared no larger than other men.

But he would never be mistaken for another, this Herculean figure. His bronze motif prevented that - his skin, remarkably fine of texture, had been turned a rich bronze hue by countless tropical suns, and his hair, straight and fitting like a metallic skull cap, was of a bronze color only slightly darker.

His face was regular, the lineaments having an unusual quality of handsomeness, hut in no sense possessing the somewhat effeminate prettiness often found in very handsome men.

The most striking feature, however, was his eyes. They were slightly weird, like pools of flake-gold stirred continually by tiny whirlwinds. They held an almost hypnotic quality, a compelling power.

The room where this amazing bronze man stood was the outer office of his headquarters, and held only comfortable chairs and a massive safe. Adjacent was the library with its thousands of scientific volumes and the laboratory with an array of equipment nearly without equal.

Doc whipped into the corridor, his movements apparently unhurried, but his speed great. A special elevator, a fast lift installed for his own use, lowered him eighty-six floors to the skyscraper basement. There, he kept several automobiles, all of special construction, in a garage the existence of which was unknown to all but a few.

The bronze man's skyscraper establishment had cost a small fortune, yet its expense was scarcely a drop from his reservoir of wealth. Doc possessed an almost unlimited source of funds, a treasure trove as unusual as the bronze man himself.

Scarcely three minutes after disaster befell Monk, Doc Savage was on the street in an expensive but unostensible roadster. He touched a dash button. Under the hood a siren began wailing. Traffic police heard and opened a way for him.

Doc went down Broadway, and for a long time the speedometer needle swayed above seventy miles an hour. He drove with an uncanny skill.


THE roadster was fitted with shortwave radio receiving-and-transmitting apparatus. Ordinarily, Doc Savage would have used this to get in touch with the other three members of his group of five assistants.

But three of his aides were not at present in New York. William Harper "Johnny" Littlejohn, the expert on archaeology and geology, was in London, filling a special lecture engagement at a famous university.

Major Thomas J. "Long Tom" Roberts, electrical wizard extraordinary, was in Europe, collaborating in experiments with another electrical expert on a device which was Long Tom's pet dream - an apparatus which, when perfected, could be used to kill insects with ultra-short sonic or electric waves. This would be an inestimable boon to farmers.

Colonel John "Renny" Renwick, famous engineer, was in South Africa, halfway around the world, overseeing construction of a particularly difficult hydro-electric plant, a project in which the engineer had a financial interest.

For the first time in many months, Doc Savage would have to go into action without the aid of three of his remarkable group of five men, each of whom was a master in some profession.

Several blocks from the scene of the strange explosion in the office building, Doc switched off the siren. A crowd milled in front of the building itself. There were signs of excitement.

Doc parked at the end of the block and hurried forward, intent on learning what had befallen Monk and Ham. He caught snatches of conversation from the crowd.

"They came in an armored truck!" gasped a man.

A woman was telling a friend, "Did you notice how they were dressed? Silver-colored suits!"

"Those silver masks on their faces!" gasped the friend. "Ugh! Hideous!"

Doc went on and heard a fat colored fellow in a bus boy's uniform exclaim, "Dem silver lads done lit out of heah in the same truck dat dey came in!"

"Boy, did yoah see dem two men they was draggin' when they up an' left?" asked a brother bus boy.

"Yassuh," agreed the first. "Dem two was daid, if yoah asks me."

Doc Savage's remarkable bronze features did not change expression. That did not mean he was unconcerned, for he schooled himself until he possessed an uncanny control over his own emotions.

A lieutenant of police - the same individual to whom Monk and Ham had been talking - answered the question. Doc encountered the officer in front of the building. The cop saluted briskly.