"026 (B016) - The Spook Legion (The Ghost Legion) (1935-04) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

THE SPOOK LEGION
A Doc Savage Adventure by Kenneth Robeson


Chapter 1. THE FIRST SPOOK

LEO BELL was a counter clerk in a Boston telegraph office. Leo was level-headed. He certainly did not believe in spooks. At least, he did not believe in spooks at precisely ten o'clock at night, as he moved behind the counter straightening the books of message blanks.
At five minutes past ten Leo's disbelief in spooks received a rude jarring.
It happened that Leo Bell was an ambitious young man who had studied the finer points of selling, so, of course, he knew the importance of making things convenient for a customer, even the small things. It was Leo's habit to place three or four books of message blanks on the counter top so that prospective senders of telegrams had merely to step up and start writing.
As he went along tidying the counter, Leo examined each of these books, because careless customers sometimes went off and left scribbling on them. At this particular examination, all of the blanks were clean and fresh, showing unmarked sheets. Leo was sure of that. He remembered it particularly.
Leo stood at the end of the counter and waited for a customer. None came in. Leo was positive of that, also.
No one even passed on the street outside. It was very quiet.
Then the wastebasket upset.
The wastebasket was not placed exactly where it should have been - near the writing table - but was out about a yard from the table. It upset noisily. Trash fell out.
Leo Bell leaned over the counter and his eyes popped. He licked his lips. Then he rubbed a hand over his eyes. Finally, he walked around the counter. He thought a cat or a dog might have gotten into the wastebasket. But there was no cat or dog.
Leo straightened the basket, then stood and scratched his head, trying to decide what had overturned the basket, and failing to reach any satisfactory conclusion, he moved over to the counter. There, he got his next shock.
The telegraph blanks there had borne no writing when he arranged them a moment before. But one now bore a message printed in heavy but somewhat uncertain strokes. It read:
DOC SAVAGE
NEW YORK CITY
MATTER OF VITAL DANGER TO THOUSANDS MERITS YOUR ATTENTION STOP PLEASE BOARD BOSTON TO NEW YORK PASSENGER PLANE OF EXCELSIOR AIRWAYS AT NOON TOMORROW STOP GET ABOARD IN BOSTON STOP SUGGEST YOU USE DISGUISE AND BE PREPARED FOR HIDEOUS AND AMAZING EXPERIENCE
A N ONYMOUS
(1440 Powder Road)
Leo Bell stared at the message, noting that it was marked to be sent collect at destination. He was dumfounded. He felt as if cold water had trickled unexpectedly down the back of his neck. He eyed the address on the message and shook his head, because he knew, from past experience, that a telegram addressed to one man in a city as large as New York had very little chance of being delivered.
Leo carried the message back to the night manager.
"I have here a straight telegram addressed to Doc Savage in New York City," he told the night manager. "I think we should get a better address."
"Where have you been all your life?" demanded the manager.
"Huh?" Leo blinked.
"I thought everybody had heard of Doc Savage," said the other.
LEO asked, "Who is this Doc Savage?"
The night manager opened his mouth as if to speak, but did not.
"Wait," he said. "I'll show you something."
The night manager walked to his desk in the rear. The night manager was a studious individual. There was a large book open on his desk. The counter clerk knew this book was a late work outlining in brief the discoveries of scientists during the past ten years or so. The night manager was interested in different branches of science. He riffled through the pages, and opened them to the section marked, "Light."
"Read this," he advised, and pointed out a paragraph.
Some to the most advanced study of the dispersion of doubly refracting and naturally gyrating substances has been conducted by Clark Savage, Jr., (better known as Doc Savage).
Leo Bell asked, "What are naturally gyrating and doubly refracting substances?"
"Never mind," said the night manager.
He opened the book at another section marked, "Chemistry," and said, "Read this."
Great impetus has been given colorimetric analysis by recent work of Doc Savage.
Before Leo could speak, the night manager turned to another part of the book marked, "Electricity," and pointed out an item:
To Doc Savage, the field of electric science is indebted for new theories concerning velocity of propagation of electro-magnetic effects through air.
The night manager hurriedly shifted to a portion of the volume designated as dealing with "Surgery."
One of the greatest methods of recent years for the intravenous administration of hypertonic solutions in delicate brain operations is credited to Doc Savage.
Leo Bell exploded.
"Whew!" he gulped. "That guy Doc Savage seems to be tops at everything!"
The night manager grinned. "There's a note at the front of this book about him. It says that Doc Savage has one of the most remarkable brains of any man ever to live. It says he is a mental marvel."
They both re-read the telegram which had been found on the counter blank. Leo Bell now broached the subject of the upsetting wastebasket and the mysterious appearance of the missive, but he spoke hesitantly, and none too firmly, because the whole thing seemed ridiculous.
The night manager laughed him down.
"Somebody came in and left the message," he said. "Of course we'll send it!"
They sent it.