"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 006 - The Death Tower" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"From various sources," replied the physician quietly, "but those that I prize most highly are willed to me."


"Willed to you!"

"Yes. By patients whom I have benefited. I have often made that bargain with them.

"Their brains are useful to them when they are alive. I have enabled them to overcome mental disorders.
More than one has agreed willingly that some day hisтАФor herтАФbrain may repose in my collection.

"Here"тАФhe went back to the shelfтАФ"is the brain of an eminent lawyer. This"тАФhe indicated the side of
another brainтАФ"is the cerebral mechanism of a man who was once a most prominent artist.
"I don't believe I have the brain of a journalist in this exhibit. Perhaps тАФ" he looked speculatively at
Burke.

"Perhaps newspapermen have no brains?" questioned Burke, with a forced laugh.

"No," replied Doctor Palermo seriously, "not that. All men have brains. I thought perhaps you might be
willing to some day contribute your brain to my collectionтАФprovided, of course, that you should die
young."

Burke was silent. There was something ominous in the physician's tone. The ex-reporter felt ill at ease.
He decided to bring the discussion back to the subject of his visit.

"Regarding ChathamтАФ" he began cautiously.

"Ah, yes," interrupted Doctor Palermo. "Horace Chatham. I was just mentioning his brain. I already have
the brain of one murderer.

"But you are interested in the living, not the dead. Therefore you would like to discuss Chatham as he
was the evening he called upon me. My experiments are finished. Come."

As Burke followed the doctor from the laboratory, he recalled a subtleness in the man's last sentences.

Palermo had said that he would discuss Chatham "as he was." Did that mean that Chatham no longer
lived?

The newspaperman realized that he was dealing with a genius who spoke with double meanings.
Therefore, he resolved upon extreme discretion.

Hassan met the men outside the laboratory. Doctor Palermo made a sign with his right hand. The servant
assisted him in removing his laboratory garments. Then he brought out an Oriental robe of deep crimson,
embroidered with gold dragons. Evidently a Chinese dress, thought Burke.

Doctor Palermo donned the robe, and his whole appearance changed. He looked more like a mandarin
than a physician. A strange man, thought Burke. Yet Palermo's next action was more remarkable.

He snapped his fingers, and as though in answer to a command, a panel slid open in the wall beside the
laboratory door. It revealed a circular staircase.