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

little kid, you used to slip me candy whenever I came in the store? Remember why
you did that?"
The other nodded. "Sure, Steve. You swiped a peppermint stick out of the case
once, and I caught you at it. You never did it again."
"No. I remember what you told me--that there was always a right way and a wrong
way of getting things, and the wrong way wasn't ever necessary. You said if I
wanted candy, you'd give it to me. Well--I owe you plenty, Uncle Tobe. I've
thought of what you said a lot of times. And--"
The bell tinkled. Mickey went to the curtain and turned back a white face. "It's
Stohm. Uncle Tobe--don't go. I'll go--"
THE old man shook his head, smiling, and went past the boy into the shop. Mickey
followed. Vane stepped to the curtains, parted them a trifle, and peered through
the aperture.
Uncle Tobe was talking to a hulking, unshaved man who looked like a
prizefighter. His cauliflower ear seemed to verify that conclusion. His neck
made a beefy roll of red fat over a dirty collar. Small black eyes, embedded in
little pits of gristle, watched the old grocer.
Stohm's hand lay palm up on the counter. He turned it over and smacked it
against the wood.
"I can't help that," he grunted. "I want the dough. And now."
"I'd give you all I have," Uncle Tobe said. "I'll make up the rest next week."
Stohm said nothing, but waited. Mickey stood against the counter and glared, his
freckles standing out against rage-pallid skin.
Slowly the old man counted out greasy bills, silver, and pennies into the fat
palm. Stohm thrust the money carelessly into his pocket.
He said, "Just to make sure you don't forget to make up the difference next
week." His heavy foot pushed against a showcase, and it fell over with a
shattering crash. Candy showered the floor.
Uncle Tobe sprang forward as Stain turned to another case. The blue-veined old
hand clutched a brawny arm. With a contemptuous grin the gangster swung his fist
and knocked the grocer down.
From his hiding-place behind the curtain, Vane watched, feeling a hot tide of
rage surge through him at the sight. Before he could move, however, Mickey had
leaped forward and drove his small, hard fist into Stohm's somach[sic].
The thug grinned. He picked up Mickey by the shirt, holding him helpless in
midair.
Stohm said, "Don't get smart with me, sprout. I'm gonna twist your ears off--"
Vane's hand lifted. He brushed the hat off his head. The Stone from the Stars
flamed with unearthly crimson light.
The lawyer's lips moved silently. And Stohm stood helpless, frozen, still
gripping Mickey . . .
"Don't move, Stohm," Vane whispered softly. "Don't move a muscle. Just stay like
that . . ."
The gangster's eyes were wide. His face was twisted into a grimace. He glared at
Mickey as the boy twisted and struck out with his small, fury-driven fists.
They drove into Stohm's face. They flattened his nose and split his lips. They
blacked his eyes and raised red welts on his cheeks.
"Leggo o' me!" Mickey shrilled. "Lemme go!"
But Stohm didn't relax his grip, He couldn't. He couldn't even yell for help.
Only his eyes spoke of stark horror as he continued to hold the boy before him.