"017 (B002) - The Thousand-Headed Man (1934-07) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Opening a door, Doc walked into a store. The proprietor and two clerks stared at him dumbfounded, as he walked through to the street. Their surprise was due to the bronze man's size and obvious strength, rather than to wonder from where he had come.

The reporters and photographers still loitered in front of the hotel, so Doc crossed the street to take up a position behind a parked car. That he was not entirely infallible was demonstrated when he made a typically American mistake.

Preoccupied,, he neglected the fact that London motorists drive on the left hand side of the street. It was by an agile leap that he avoided being run over.

From behind the parked car Doc watched the hotel. His fingers drifted into a pocket and brought out the object which the thin man had thrown at the airport. Unwrapping the oiled paper, Doc scrutinized the black stick, noting its oiliness. The pressure of his finger nails made a small indentation upon the dark material.

Doc gave particular attention to the evidence that the stick had originally been molded by hand.

The orientals now left the hotel, elbowing through the cluster of journalists. A scribe, buttonholing one of the yellow men in hopes of learning something of Doc Savage's movements, was cursed thoroughly in Malayan for his trouble.

Four of Sen Gat's men reeled as they walked. They flagged down two taxis and got aboard.

The driver of a third passing hack received a shock. Hearing the door of his machine bang, he turned his head and discovered he had a passenger - a giant bronze man whose appearance was most striking.


SEN GAT received the returning expedition in the incense drenched vestibule of the house in Shoreditch.

"Back so soon?" He rubbed his palms together, careful of his protected finger nails. "Give me the black key."

There was a general trading of uneasy looks - and silence. Those stricken by Monk's darts had recovered somewhat from their illness.

"Let me have it!" Sen Gat snapped.

"Velly sully," a man mumbled.

"A pa fasal," rapped Sen Gat. "What is the matter?""

"Us fella come alongside evil eye."

Tightlipped with rage, Sen Gat led the way into the room where Maples had been overpowered. Maples was not there now. Neither was Indigo nor the other among whom was the pair who had muttered rebellion against Sen Gat. The sole occupant was the unfortunate whom Maples had struck down at the back door with a cobble. Around his head wag an enormous bandage.

Sen Gat glared, then said fiercely, "I have seen among my men some who seem to think they can do better without me. Maybe you give me - the American cinema calls it the 'doublecross'? That is not conducive to health."

"Pig fella b'long damn evil eye," insisted a man.

The story then came out in great detail while Sen Gat listened, first skeptically, then with surprise, and finally much concerned. He muttered under his breath and tapped his finger nail protectors together.

"You say there was first a tingling? Where?"

The victims pointed out the spots. Their leader stripped open their clothing and found at each point a place where a pin might have jabbed. He seized a knife, and heedless of painful squawls, dug out one of the darts.

"Hell!" he swore explosively in English.

"Evil eye b'long pig..."

"Evil eye nothing!" Sen Gat threw the knife down, stamped across the rug and back again. "That man who you say looked like a gorilla, tricked you! He shot those darts into you and made you sick. But why?"