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

"Ten bucks is ten bucks, and he threw it in the drink," Bill Williams said. He shrugged. "O.K., maybe I shouldn't have hung one on him. Come to think of it, that was kind of silly of me, wasn't it?"

"Why did you?" Dr. Karl asked.

"Why, because - well, I fancied the idea at the time. I don't know. I hit him, and now I don't know why." Bill Williams looked confused. "Funny thing for me to do. I kind of like the guy.

"Did Gilmore say anything while you were struggling with him?"

"Nothing very coherent. Cussing - No wait. I think I did catch something about keeping Mr. Wail from getting aboard."

"Who?"

"Wail, or Wales, or Whale, something like that. It was confused." Bill Williams grinned wryly. "I wonder who Mr. Wail is to our guest Gilmore?"

Dr. Karl did not answer, and Bill Williams, who had not really looked squarely at Linningen since coming on deck, did so now. A considerable surprise wrenched at Williams, and he said, "You look pale! Aren't you feeling well? Did that loon hit you with something?"

"He didn't hit me with anything he threw," Dr. Karl replied grimly.

"Well, you look as if there was a rattlesnake in your pocket."

Linningen glanced oddly at the man, then away. And they were below in the main cabin, having a bracer, before Linningen muttered, "I would buy he rattler in preference."

He did not say anything further to remove Williams' resulting puzzled stare.

Later Dr. Karl stretched out on his bunk and endeavored to do what he frequently advised his patients to do, relax, take it easy, and grin away the worries, He was quite good at that; he frequently said that all a really good psychiatrist needs is the ability to show a patient how to kick his problems in the nose, and he could do this successfully with his patients. He didn't have much luck with himself now, however.

When he realized he was becoming wet with perspiration, he got up and took a shower.

Over the splashing water, he heard Kroeger shouting on deck. Lunging topside with a towel for clothing, he saw that Bill Williams, who could hardly row a boat in calm water, was trying to scull with one oar in the direction of Campobello Island, which lay half a mile distant across the tidal channel. The tide was now in full rip, and no place for a greenhorn in a dinghy.

Shouting angrily, Kroeger was in pursuit of Williams in the other dinghy, and he caught Williams, who apparently had thrown the other oar away. Kroeger towed Williams and the dinghy back, not without difficulty, making angry comments to which Williams gave a dazed, stupefied silence.

"Williams, what in thunderation were you trying to do?" Dr. Karl demanded.

Williams went below without a word of answer. He was pale. Kroeger asked, "What made Mr. Williams do a fool thing like that? He knows he's no hand with a boat. He'd have drowned sure, out in that rip."

Tense, an edge riding his voice, Dr. Karl asked, "Did you see him start out? How did he act?"

Kroeger had a queer look. "My God, yes. He just got in the dinghy, like a man sleepwalking. He untied the painter. Then he threw the oar away. He began to scull. Only he can't scull. He can't even row a boat decent. I yelled at him. He didn't pay no attention. So I overtook him, and when I did, I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, and you know what he said to me? He said, "I was going after Mr. Wail." That's what he said. Just that. Then he looked more dazed than before, and he hasn't said a word since.

"What was that name?"

"Wail. A Mr. Wail, he said."

Dr. Karl swung about and dropped down into the cabin. Williams was pouring himself a drink. A strong one. He looked up, and his face was strained and his deep-throated radio-announcer's voice was a thin harpish thing as he said,

"Don't ask me what the devil made me do that. I don't know."

"But you did know it was dangerous to get out in the tide rip with just one oar!"