"Kuttner, Henry - Red Gem of Mercury" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

found a comb in an inner pocket and adjusted his hair till a lock of it fell
over the jewel that flamed on his forehead. Still he was not satisfied. He
picked up the black Homburg that lay on the seat beside him, turned down the
brim, and pulled it over his eyes. Peering into the rear-view mirror, he nodded,
satisfied. It would do. The gem was hidden from casual scrutiny.
Vane was whistling softly as he slid the car into gear and began the long
journey into Kentonville....



Chapter 3
The Man Who Was Dead



SIX hours later, at five-thirty, Vane reached his destination. He paused on the
outskirts and bought a paper from an excited newsboy.
"Big mystery, mister," the kid was yelping. "Men from Mars--escaped
convict--jeez!"
"Sure," Vane said, and gave the boy a dollar he found in his pocket. Later he
parked under a street light and examined the headlines. A worried frown puckered
his brows.
There was trouble he had not anticipated. His plan had not been successful. The
three guards had awakened ten minutes after he left them and started plodding
back to the prison. But before they topped the rise they were halted by
reinforcements the warden had sent out, The newcomers saw the spaceship, and,
worse, they had followed the tracks in the snow.
They read the signs correctly. One of the escaped convicts had fallen into the
gorge. The other had escaped; his tracks ended at the highway, where he had
obviously boarded an automobile. The dragnet was still out. The mystery of the
surviving convict's identify wasn't solved by Hanley, Jaeckel, or Bester. In the
face of plain evidence and sane logic, they continued to contend firmly that
both Apollo and Vane had fallen into the gorge.
The spaceship made headlines. Wild guesses were made as to its origin.
Naturally, the three guards added little light to the problem. They had never
seen the ship before. Obvious they were lying, since their tracks in the snow
told a different story. Jaeckel, Hanley, and Bester were now protesting against
their confinement in the observation ward.
Vane grinned
There was a watch in his vest pocket, he found. Five-thirty-five. And, as the
newspaper showed, this was Thursday. The lawyer shoved the car into gear.
"Unless Pasqual has changed his methods since I was sent up," he murmured, "his
boys are making the rounds on East Third Street right now. Wonder if Uncle
Tobe's still in business?"
He had decided on a definite plan. Swiftly he treaded the familiar streets of
Kentonville, feeling an odd sense of pleasure at seeing well-known sights again.
The City Hall--the old Mattingly mansion--Curlew Park--and the slums.
The tenement district, where Vane had been born and where he had fought his way
up from the gutter. The slums were part of Vane. Beneath the squalor and the
filth he saw something else, a high, unwavering courage that kept on where all