"Doc Savage Adventure 1949-03 Up From the Earth's Center" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

"And in case the gentlemanly way doesn't work, then what shall we do?"

Dr. Karl examined Bill Williams' considerable length, noting there were still a few signs of the old football framework under the lazy lard, and said, "I imagine you could manage suitable restraint, Bill."

"What is the legal leg I stand on while restraining?" Bill Williams asked.

After hesitating, Dr. Karl said wryly, "I could fix that up, I suppose. Mind you, don't cripple him or anything."

"Gad, we sound like pirates consorting." Williams chuckled. "I get the picture. You think it wouldn't be any trouble to prove he was nuts and needed restraining. Righto. I'll keep your wild boy here for you."

Dr. Karl gripped the rail preparatory to swinging over into the dinghy, but turned to remark, "Why call him my wild boy?"

"Huh? Isn't he?" Williams inquired.

A wry smile touched Dr. Karl's lips. "No more than yours. Not as much. It was your donkeylike work as a steersman that brought us close enough to the witch's cake of a rock that we happened to see the poor looney." He dropped down into the dinghy, it rocked only a little under his expertly balanced weight, and he untied the painter after pulling the little craft along the rail with his strong hands.

"Back in an hour or two, Bill," he said, and took up the oars.

He used the oars in a powerful feathering stroke that sent the blades deep, then brought them back clear and flashing on returns. Dr. Linningen liked the sea, and he was not happy that he saw less and less of it as the years passed, nor was he pleased that this Gilmore had intruded into one of his rare vacation voyages. And Gilmore had intruded, all right. From the very first, he had been an article Dr. Karl couldn't ignore. No psychiatrist could have ignored him.

There was too much that was puzzling.

The Customs was in a gray wooden building beside the ferry slip, and Dr. Karl stopped there to check in and explain about Gilmore, and to answer the resulting questions.

"Is he an American citizen?" the official wished to know.

"Born in Kansas, I would say." And when the official's eyes widened doubtfully, Dr. Karl added quickly, 'A matter of accents. I have studied them. The fellow has really told us almost nothing about himself, except to call him by the name of Gilmore."

"You mean he's too crazy to tell you anything about himself, Doc?"

"Crazy? That's too conclusive a word. His mental state hasn't permitted confidences or explanations"

"Be O.K. if I went out and talked to this Gilmore?"

"Go ahead, if you wish. It will do no harm, and probably no good."

"Then I will," the Customs officer said.

Dr. Karl nodded amiably, then changed the subject by asking, "How is the survey on the Quoddy project coming?"

"That engineer from New York, Renwick, is still around here," the official explained. "But they aren't puffing out any information that I've heard." He eyed the doctor curiously. "You read about it in the newspapers?"

Dr. Karl shook his head, said, "Radio." Then he went to the window, one facing north toward the area that had been the scene, some fifteen years before, of the Quoddy project for harnessing the resources of the terrific Fundy tides. A thin fog veiled the area, but he could see the stony islands that had been intended as an anchor for one of the dams that had never been built because Congress had concluded Quoddy was just so much dream stuff. "I happen to know this engineer, Renwick, and his associate, Doc Savage," Dr. Karl said suddenly. "That was the reason I asked."

The Customs man straightened; interest splashed over him like a stinging bath.

"Doc Savage?" the man repeated. "You're a friend of Doc Savage?"

Dr. Karl turned, lowered a shoulder deprecatingly, explaining, "In a professional sense, only." He prepared to leave, but hesitated when be noticed how the official was staring at him. "Something wrong?"