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

HUGE and apelike, Monk trailed along behind Ham. Great cables of muscle curled
and uncurled under the simian fellowТs coat with each movement of his arms. Monk
was tremendously strong. He had an impressive trick of taking silver dollars
between a thumb and forefinger and folding them neatly.
Came a rattling noise at the front door.
"Who in blazes is that?" Monk grunted. "CanТt be one of our outfit. They all
know the location of the secret catch which opens the door from the outside."
A fresh banging drifted to them.
"They sound impatient," Ham said, and started for the door, sword cane tucked
under an arm. Monk trailed along behind.
Inset in the front of the warehouse was a periscope device. Unnoticeable from
without, this permitted a view of the warehouse front to those within.
A truck had rolled up to the building. Several men had alighted from this and
were clustered about the doors. They were tanned fellows; all wore greasy
coveralls.
Monk counted. "Six of Сem," he grunted.
Monk and Ham now noticed that the side of the truck bore the name of a prominent
concern manufacturing aircraft engines.
"Doc mustТve ordered somethinТ we donТt know anything about," Monk said, and
manipulated a lever which opened the doors.
"This Doc SavageТs place?" asked the spokesman of the crowd with the truck. "Zis
address was give us, mТsieuТ."
"If you have anything for Doc, weТll see that he gets it," Monk grunted.
"We Сave ze engine for MТsieuТ Savage." The man tugged papers from his pocket.
"You weel sign for it, non?"
He came forward.
Monk reached for the document. He was ordinarily a canny fellow, hard to take
unawares. But this incident, which seemed an ordinary business transaction,
fooled him.
The papers suddenly fluttered from the manТs hand. They had concealed a small
revolver. The ugly blue snout centered on MonkТs midriff.
"Get zem up!"
Undecided, Monk bounced up and down like an angry gorilla. But good sense
triumphed, and he hoisted furry arms.
The other overalled men had drawn guns; they menaced Ham. The lawyer lifted his
arms rigidly above his head; there was nothing else to do. But the canny
barrister retained a clutch on his sword cane.
The overalled men crowded into the hangar. They were a wolf-faced crew.
"Zat airplane engine story is smart trick, non?" queried one.
Monk and Ham knew accents. They marked this fellow as a native of northern
Canada, a breed of French descent. The others seemed to be of the same
nationality.
"You lookinТ for a compliment?" Monk growled.
"We look for Doc Savage," said the other. "Where is he, mТsieuТ?"
"No savvy," said Monk. "Splickee English."
"Doc Savage," snarled the other. "Where he is? Quick!"
"What in blazes is this all about?" Monk countered.
The man with the gun opened his mouth to make some answerЧthen closed it. He
peered about. His hand which did not hold the gun drifted up vaguely and touched