"033 (B015) - Murder Melody (1935-11) - Laurence Donovan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"It was death music," stated Doc. "But this man was not playing it."
Chapter 2. THE FLYING CORPSE
JOHNNY and Monk stared at Doc Savage. The bronze man was testing the metal of the slender instrument taken from the dead man's belt. He had seen the metal was of a hitherto unknown alloy before Johnny had announced his long-worded conclusion.
"It is not only of a strange alloy," Doc stated, "but the texture of the grain indicates it contains at least two elements never before employed in a metallic combination. The tunic this man is wearing also is of woven metal of the fineness of sheerest silk."
"Well, I'll be dag-goned!" squealed Monk. "Some kind of a new bulletproof vest?"
"Perhaps that is it," assented Doc, but he did not tell quite all his perceptive hands had revealed.
Under the silken, metallic tunic he had touched a dozen or more compact devices. These were so made as to fit the contour of the dead man's ribs. Not the slightest bulge appeared. But one of these devices Doc had instantly identified as a new form of radio communication diaphragm.
The other devices would have to await closer examination. They were constructed mostly in the forms of coils wound like springs of watches.
"But how did you know it was not this man playing that thing?" questioned Johnny. "It seems as if it might have made that sort of weird music."
Johnny's scholarly interest had been aroused. He had placed a monocle in his eye and was bending close to examine the texture of the dead man's tunic.
Johnny's monocle was in reality a powerful magnifying glass.
Doc replied to Johnny's question.
"This man was seeking us. He died too quickly to have been playing this instrument. He could not have replaced it in his belt. The metal shows no trace of moist lips having touched it. The surface still retains a recent polish."
Johnny arose from examining the metallic tunic.
"This is also a new alloy, but it is different," he said. "But both have a strange, almost unbelievable, carboniferous texture. Look, Doc, here is blood on the man's neck. It must have come from his ears."
"So I had observed," Doc smiled. "You may have noticed something peculiar about these glassy buttons."
He cast the ray of his flashlight upon the tunic close to the dead man's belt. One bronze hand touched one of the buttons experimentally.
Johnny was standing beside the bronze man. Monk was peering between them.
Doc's metal flashlight was apparently snatched from his hand. He had been holding it loosely. Monk emitted a squawking grunt. He had been carrying one of Doc's supermachine automatic pistols loosely in his side pocket, hoping for trouble.
The pistol flew through the air. Monk's frantic grab for the weapon missed it altogether.
Johnny's monocle with its metal rim suddenly started dancing at the end of its cord. Only this prevented him from losing the glass.
"Holy calamities!" howled Monk. "The corpse has grabbed my gun! I'llЧ"
THE pistol and Doc's flashlight plunked against the belted section of the dead man's tunic. They remained suspended there. Monk caught the pistol with one hand. His effort only pulled the corpse toward him, almost upsetting it onto the gravel.
Doc again touched the button which had caused the seeming magic. He caught his flashlight as it fell. Monk's pistol came free so suddenly the big chemist tottered backward on his heels. His lower jaw dropped loosely. He looked more than ever like some ancestral ape man.
Johnny's monocle ceased to snap on its cord.
"I've never before heard of a magnet like that, without tremendous electrical force back of it," said Johnny.
"I've sometimes believed this might be done," stated Doc, unperturbed. "Tons of steel are lifted by such force as you mention."
His bronze hands rippled lightly over the other buttons on the tunic. He turned one slightly. Monk was standing beside the corpse. He had pushed one hairy hand against the dead man's shoulder.
As Doc turned the second button, Monk sprang back, staring at his hand. He had hardly more than flicked his thumb. The body had left the bench. But it had not fallen to the ground.
Instead, the corpse seemed suddenly to become weightless. It was as light as a child's toy balloon. The dead man was floating clear of the ground, the head bobbing with ghastly nods on the raglike neck.
Doc was still close enough to reverse the turn on the button he had touched. The dead man instantly plumped back onto the bench.
"I've thought some day there might be something would overcome all specific gravityЧ" Johnny was saying.
A blinding light shot from among the trees. Johnny stopped speaking as the wide ray enveloped them, throwing their figures into relief against the shadowy background of the bushes.
Three men stepped quickly into view. One man, a little ahead of the others, was operating a flashlight which seemed to play from the front of his body rather than his hand. The other two men had slender metal flutes like that on the body of the corpse.
Doc's own flashlight whipped across the three faces. The men's skin was of the same silvery color as the dead man's.
THE leader operating the light spoke quickly, but in a controlled tone of voice. It was much the same as the bronze man's own voice, having a carrying, penetrating quality without the speaker making extra effort.
"You are the great Doc Savage," stated this leader. "We have come for you. You will do as I command and no harm will come to you. Make any resistance and you shall hear the death song."
Doc's pencil light played over the ears of the three men. He noted these were filled with thick blobs of yellow wax. The men were of normal size. Raincoats swathed their forms, but through the folds gleamed metallic garments close to their bodies.
In the direct light, the men's eyes showed a curious black-and-white quality, as if the pupils were greatly enlarged.
"And who do you fellas think you are?" squealed Monk. "Doc, will I take them and their little tin flutes apart an' see what it's all about?"
Doc glanced swiftly sidewise at the face of the dead man. The blood from the corpse's ears had formed distinct scarlet threads along the silvery skin of his throat. There was no other evidence of violence which might have been responsible for death.
"Perhaps we should obey, brothers," Doc remarked calmly.
One of his hands was touching the roll of gold leaf he had taken from the dead man's mouth. The movement with which he sent it into the mat of bushes behind him was too fast for the human eye.
The three men twisted their heads, glancing at each other with startled question. Perhaps each thought one of the others had started playing his instrument. For all around them was weird melody.
The exotic, vibrant music touched the notes of the scale. Yet it was something like a wind wailing in the distance through the trees of a leafless forest.
Johnny and Monk knew what it was. Doc's face was in plain view of his three threatening foes. They could see that his lips were not moving. But Johnny and Monk knew the sound came from Doc. They were fully aware what he meant.
Again Doc's hand had moved. There was a faint tinkling on the gravel trail.
"You think then to trick us?" said the man with the light. "I have warned youЧ"
The three men started toward Doc and his companions. One man lifted his flute. It touched his lips, but no sound came. This man's eyes suddenly became dull, as if he were seeing nothing.
The leader hesitated. He spoke a few words with an apparent great effort. They were in a tongue which neither Doc nor his men had ever before heard. This was surprising. For Doc could understand nearly all of the world's languages.