"031 (B060) - The Majii (1935-09) - Lester Dent.palmdoc.pdbTXT" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

An orderly appeared with word, "Doc Savage has arrived."
"Ever seen him?" the plump man asked the grayish one.
"
No."
"Get set for a surprise then. He is one man who looks his part."
The man who entered the room shortly afterward seemed of gigantic size when he was in the door, but there was the remarkable illusion of growing smaller as he advanced.
This was due to the symmetry of a remarkable muscular development, an even construction which seemed to make him a man of ordinary size until he was near an object to which his stature might be compared.
Even more unusual was the man's skin, finely textured and of a bronze color. His eyes ran a close third in the summary of his unique characteristicsЧthey were like pools of flake gold, never still.
He was a man who by his appearance alone would stand out instantly in a multitude. Yet his clothing was quiet, showing not the slightest suspicion of showmanship.
"There is something wrong?" asked the newcomer in a voice of warmth and modulation.
"This woman, Doctor Savage." The plump man pointed. "She has spoken your name a few times."
Both the lumpish man and the small gray man launched into a detailed account of their observations of the case. The woman had been brought in the night before from Temple Nava, where she had collapsed in the middle of a tirade against the mysterious Rama Tura, who was getting columns of newspaper publicity by making diamonds out of less-valuable things.
The woman had at first been thought to suffer from an ordinary fainting spell, but then it had been discovered that she did not respond to the usual reactions and stimulants.
"There seems to be nothing organically wrong," the lumpish man explained. "To tell the truth, it has me baffled."
From that point, the discussion went entirely technical, entering terminology which would have been utterly Greek to an unversed listener.
"I will examine her," Doc Savage said.
EXACTLY one hour and twenty-eight minutes later, he was finishing a microscopic analysis of spinal fluid, doing the work in the finely equipped laboratory which was a part of the hospital.
The bronze man had as observers some half a dozen men, specialists in that line, who were seizing an opportunity to observe a master at work.
Completing his own examination, Doc Savage permitted each of the spectators to scrutinize the extraction.
"You have seen this and the other tests," he said. "What do you make of it?"
"Practically normal," one said.
"Exactly," the bronze man agreed. "According to all conventional tests, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the woman."
One began, "Her heart and respirationЧ"
"Symptoms," Doc told him. "She breathes slowly because she is not moving, and her heart beat is accelerated a trifle due to her mental state."
"Then you thinkЧ"
"Her trouble is entirely mental," Doc said. "At least, the seat of it is in her brain."
"A mental disorderЧ"
"Not in the conventional sense," Doc replied. "Our tests would have shown that. It is something else."
The bronze man moved away from the microscope.
"This woman was brought from Temple Nava, I understand," he said. "She repeated my name, so I was called. Is that right."
"Correct," he was told.
"Has any one tried to see her?"
"No one."
"I see."
A moment later, a small sound became audible, a low, mellow trilling, the pulsations of which ran eerily up and down the musical scale and seemed to come from no definite spot.
Some of those present showed surprise. They did not know that this was the sound of Doc Savage, a small unconscious thing which he did in moments of mental stress.
"You have some thought?" asked one who had heard the sound beforeЧit was the lumpish manЧand knew what it meant.
"I have," the bronze man admitted. "It is rather fantastic, but it is possible."
"Do you mind explaining?" he was asked.
"The thing is hardly in keeping with medical theory," the bronze man said slowly. "It is only a theory, a rather wild one, based on studies which I once made in the Orient. If it is true, it is a thing rather hideous to contemplate."
The listeners looked disappointed.
"We will examine the woman again," Doc said.
They went into the remarkably white bedroom which had held the woman.
The male interne who had been attending the patient lay on the floor. It was plain to be seen that he had been knocked over the head.
The woman was gone.
IT was nearly nightfall when Doc Savage crossed the ornate modernistic lobby of the skyscraper which housed his New York headquarters and entered, through what appeared to be a section of wall panel, his private elevator.
The conveyance lifted him with terrific speed for a time, then stopped so abruptly that the bronze man continued upward a few inches, then dropped back to the floor. He stepped out on the eighty-sixth floor, and approached a plain door which bore, in small bronze lettering:
CLARK SAVAGE, JR.
Before Doc Savage reached the door, it opened without visible aidЧa mechanical phenomenon which was accomplished through the medium of radioactive discs in his pocket and a sensitive electroscope connected to relays.
The opening of the door let out sounds that resembled a miniature riot.