"015 (B069) - The Mystery on the Snow (1934-05) - Lester Dent (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Mahal was an oily specimen. He had a head like an almond, and many fine white
teeth. He claimed to be an Oriental and, probably, he was. He also claimed to be
a mystic. On that point, he was, beyond doubt, a liar. But he had made a little
money out of the gullible with his fakery.
The police had a time or two considered putting a detective to watching him. It
was too bad they did not do this. A sharp-eyed sleuth on MahalТs trail might
have made some interesting observations.
Mahal was careful to pick a clipping agency which did not inquire too carefully
into the motives of its customers.
"I am Mahal," he announced. "Yesterday I telephoned you for clippings concerning
a certain individual. You have them, sahib?"
Mahal spoke excellent English, but he affected occasionally a word of his mother
tongue of the Orient. It lent color to him.
He was handed an envelope, stuffed full with paper.
Mahal seemed surprised by the number of clippings the envelope obviously held.
But he thrust the container in the outside pocket of his immaculate brown
topcoat, paid the rather exorbitant fee requested, and walked out.
The clipping agency was on the seventeenth floor of an office building. Mahal
took an elevator down.
In the elevator, a strange thing happened. There were numerous passengers aboard
the car. Among these was a stooped gentleman with a flowing white beard. His
clothing was extremely well-cut. He seemed rather feeble, for he leaned heavily
on a plain black cane. He looked benign, peaceful.
The white-bearded gentlemanТs cane slipped on the smooth floor of the elevator,
and he stumbled heavily against Mahal.
"
Burha bakra!" growled Mahal, and gave the elderly-looking one a shove.
Respect for age is one of the finer qualities of Orientals. But Mahal did not
have it. He had called, in his native tongue, the bearded fellow an old goat. He
would have called him an old goat in English, but he did not want trouble. He
thought the white-whiskered one could not understand the Oriental words.
But he would have been surprised. For the benign old chap with the snowy beard
had now the envelope of clippings. He had slipped it expertly from MahalТs
pocket during the collision.

THE elevator reached the ground floor and discharged its passengers.
Mahal strode out to the street and glanced about for a taxi. He had not as yet
missed the envelope.
The elderly-looking gentleman now showed surprising agility in scampering around
behind a cigar stand. This concealed him from the door.
The envelope was not sealed. He opened it, drew out the clippings. There were
scores of them. Headlines on the topmost read:
DOC SAVAGE SMASHES
TIBETAN MENACE
Another story was captioned:
DOC SAVAGE ON MYSTERY MISSION
GOES TO ARABIA BY SUBMARINE
His white beard shook as the reader said something explosive under his breath.
He worked toward the back of the clipping sheaf and studied another headline:
DOC SAVAGE, MAN OF MIRACLES, GIVES SURGERY NEW OPERATION METHOD