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

"Speak for yourself," Monk growled, then placed a hand on the 'window sill and vaulted through the opening, out into space.

Without hesitating, Ham followed, instinctively using care not to disrupt the neat hang of his garments. It was a rare occasion when Ham forgot his clothing.

Perhaps six feet below the window was a wide ledge. For the moment, the two men had forgotten that the skyscraper was set back, pyramid fashion, at intervals, and that one of these setbacks was at the level of the Seven Seas offices. The killer must have fled by this route, after closing the window behind him to confuse his pursuers.

Monk pointed, "He went this way!"

City grime was smeared on the roof of the set-back, soot and dust which retained footprints plainly. The two men followed the tracks around the skyscraper. They disappeared into a window on the opposite side.

Monk and Ham clambered through the window and found themselves among mops, buckets and window-washing paraphernalia; the room was obviously one used by janitors. There was no trace of the weirdly garbed slayer.

A corridor was beyond the store room, this being deserted for the moment. Not until Monk emitted an angry roar did any one appear, then two policemen popped out of the offices of Seven Seas.

"What's going on here?" snapped an officer.

"Where'd that killer go?" Monk demanded.

The cop gulped. "Killer! Say, what're you talking about?"

And that was the first inkling the police had of the slaying of unfortunate Clarence Sparks, for the meek-spirited billing clerk was dead, the arrow having punctured his heart. They found that out when they examined him.

Where the killer had gone remained a mystery through the course of the next fifteen minutes. Then an excited call came up from the basement regions. A fireman had been found knocked senseless in the basement.

Monk and Ham hurried down.

The fireman had thick blond hair, and that had possibly preserved his life, for the blow he had received over the head, judging by the bruise, had been terrific. A policeman was waiting for a doctor to revive the fellow.

"Let me do it," said Ham. "I have an infallible system."

Ham unsheathed his sword cane, and the onlookers say that the tip was coated for a few inches with a brownish substance which was slightly sticky. This was a drug mixture which produced senselessness when a victim was pricked.

With a finger tip Ham removed a bit of the drug from the sword and applied it to the tongue of the unconscious fireman. The stuff, in small quantities, was a stimulant, but if administered in quantity, produced senselessness.

The fireman revived almost at once.

"What happened to you?" Ham demanded.

"Aye not bane know," mumbled the fireman, feeling his blond head.

"Who hit you?" Ham persisted.

"He bane a feller all dressed up in shiny suit," was the reply. "Aye just see him - then bop! He hit me with gun."

The room where they stood was a concrete inferno far below the street, where the great oil-burning boilers roared, generating steam for the radiators and hot water for the washrooms.

Moved by a thought - he was sharp in spite of Monk's habit of terming him a nitwit shyster - Ham went over and peered into one of the fire boxes. He started violently, moved to use his sword to probe in the heat, then changed his mind and employed a cleaning bar.

Out of the fire box Ham brought a crinkled mass that had once been silver metallic cloth.