"Doc Savage Adventure 1939-07 Merchants of Disaster" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

Then came a rumor of strange visitors arriving in Washington. The investigators rushed there, sought trace of those strange visitors.

Two of those who came to the capital did not appear mysterious at all, nor did they seem to be courting secrecy.

In fact, they attracted much attention.

They came in a battered car. It rattled and clattered exceedingly and was covered with signs indicating it had once been the property of some college youth.

"Blondes and brunettes enter at their own risk," read a sign on one sagging door. "Redheads should know better."

The present occupants of the car did not seem interested in female companions of any kind. And certainly none of Washington's attractive stenographers showed any heart interest in them.

The driver was a slender man, clad in garments that would have been the despair even of a junk dealer. They were tattered and torn, as was an ancient felt hat that shaded a dirty face. His companion was no better dressed. He had the build and expression of a gorilla - not a pleasant, agreeable gorilla, but one in a bad mood.

The third occupant of the ancient wreck alone appeared presentable, and he was not human. While bearing a remarkable resemblance to the gorillalike man, this one was without doubt an ape. A bright red hat was on his head, while he squirmed uncomfortably in a vivid green sweater.

At a crowded corner the clattering car drew up to the curb and came to a stop. Solemnly, the big man hunched his way to the sidewalk, flipping one end of a chain. The ape leaped out, a tin cup in his hand.

The slender man behind the wheel also slid to the sidewalk, producing a battered hand organ. Without a word he began turning the crank.

The strains of "The Sidewalks of New York" startled passers-by. The ape danced about clumsily, bowing and scraping, his red hat in one hand, the tin cup held in the other.

"What's the second ape doin' along, he ain't even dancin'," someone snickered in the crowd.

A crimson flush crept up the face of the gorillalike man. His companion appeared to be having difficulty in breathing. Several undignified snorts came from him, and he turned the crank of the hand organ more rapidly.

A burly, red-faced cop pushed his way through the giggling crowd.

"Come on! Get out of here," he roared. "Yuh can't block traffic this way!"

The gorilla-man looked up pleadingly, "Butta, officer," he whined in a child-like voice, "we gotta makka da mon - "

The cop put big hands on his hips and glared. "You oughta be dancin' on the end of a chain yurself," he said with heavy humor. "Yuh look more like a monk than the poor ape yuh're usin'. Get along now, before I get mad and run yuh in.


MORE choking sounds came from the slender man with the hand organ, but the music stopped. As the crowd's chuckles grew to full-throated laughter, the two men and the ape got back in their car and drove off.

"Daggonit, Ham, this was your idea!" the gorilla-man piped. His small eyes, almost buried in gristle, glared indignantly at his companion.

The other gave up trying to suppress his mirth. He almost doubled up with laughter.

Shortly afterward, the ancient car drew up at the rear of one of Washington's best hotels. The two men and the ape vanished through a rear entrance. They seemed to have been expected. At least an overdressed flunky, while eyeing them with disapproval, led the way to a suite of rooms.

The slender man dived toward a pile of suitcases already there, gave a sigh of pleasure as he extracted a suit that was the latest in fashion, and chose shirt, tie, socks and shoes to go with it.

Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks, known as Х Ham to his friends, enjoyed the reputation of being one of the nation's best-dressed men.

"If I'd only thought to get a picture of you in those rags!" his companion moaned.

Ham scowled, then smiled. "Yuh oughta be dancin' on the end of a chain yourself," he mimicked - then ducked a flying shoe.