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

"Inspector, would you grant me a favor, one that will perhaps redound somewhat to your credit when some of this mystery has been cleared up?" he suggested.
The Scotchman cooled speedily. Something that might come his way was a horse of a more profitable color. There still was some suspicion in his voice, however, as he replied, "An' thot I wud noo. A' the same, ther-re wud be some questionЧ"
JOHNNY had remained with Monk to one side, talking with the constable. Doc indicated to the inspector; it might be best to remove the small casket to an inner office. He motioned Johnny, Monk and the inspector to accompany him, then he closed the door.
"Johnny, I seem to have received a gift or a token of some considerable value, which I am planning to have the inspector here place in his own private safe for me until later," said Doc. "Now will you have a look at what this vessel contains."
Johnny had not before been close enough to peer into the casket. He walked over. Seldom did his serious, scholarly face betray surprise. But now his first words were almost gasped.
"Well I'll be superamalgamated! It isn't possible, Doc!"
Johnny was looking down at a clear, glasslike block nearly a foot in length and perhaps four inches square.
Doc's reply was extraordinary.
"I fear very much it is exactly what you think it is, Johnny. Which may mean one of the greatest experiments that has engaged the world since the substance first was discovered has at last been successful."
Johnny hardly seemed to be listening. He was bending over the casket closely, inspecting the glasslike block through his powerful magnifying monocle.
"It's true, Doc," he murmured in a low voice. He did not want the Scotch inspector to catch his words. "But I don't believe it is artificial. It is even more astounding. The frayed grain indicates this has been separated, by some medium of which we know nothing, from a natural silicon dioxide strata deeper than man has ever penetrated. I would say some hitherto unknown mountain region has erupted this strata near the surface."
Johnny spoke with the authority of a geologist who could not be deceived. Except for Doc Savage himself, Johnny was probably the greatest living student of geological formations. His authority on this was equaled only by his knowledge of archaeology and the races and living forms of antiquity.
Stepping close to Doc, he said in hardly more than an awed whisper, "If this should ever become known, it would be disastrous. This block is in its natural state, as you've undoubtedly already judged. I see evidence of a bit of jasper in one corner. That means it has been removed from a deposit where carbon originally was combined with oxygen and other elements. It is grayish in character now because of its natural state. It might have been found in an area where chalcedony, flint and jasper are common. Why, faulty as it might be, it could still be cut into a diamond of many, many thousands of caratsЧ"
"Howlin' calamities!" squealed Monk. "You mean that's a diamond? Then it would be worthЧ"
"The world's finest collection of jewels wouldn't be worth a dime a dozen, if this were known," interrupted Johnny.
The Scotch inspector's face had been red and white by turns.
"Ye're intimatin'," he gasped, "thot glass br-r-ick's a dee-mun?"
His one-idea brain was struggling desperately with a computation of values.
"That is it, inspector," said Doc quietly. "And that is why I am asking the favor of putting this away in your private vault and saying nothing. We must find its source. Possibly we may discover a plot to unbalance all the values of the world's gems."
The inspector readily gave his almost reverent promise that the brick of carbonate and its secret would be safe with him. Doc was sure he could depend upon this assurance.
Chapter 5. SNATCHED INTO SPACE
DOC SAVAGE avoided the deep shadows as he walked rapidly along the highway leading to the place where he had purchased a small boat to reach his amphibian plane. This was not for the purpose of evading possible attack. In fact, the bronze man was deliberately making his movements conspicuous.
As Doc turned from a lighted section of North Vancouver into the darker shore road, two other men also passed from the illuminated area. Apparently these two sailors were feeling the effects of an evening of jubilation. One long arm of the taller sailor was laid affectionately across the broad shoulders of his short companion.
The two sang loudly and with bibulous lack of harmony. At an intersection they turned into the same road Doc Savage had taken. In the darkness their singing ceased. They weaved from side to side, but remarkably maintained about the same distance behind the bronze man.
Doc reached the small wharf where his launch was tied up. From this dockage he had about a mile of water along the harbor shore to reach the beached amphibian. The purpose of his visit was to make radio contact with his three other companions. He judged they now should be in the vicinity of Juneau, Alaska.
The two sailors halted about two hundred yards from the wharf. Their apparent intoxication vanished as two shadowy figures darted from bushes near the highway. The latter pair came under one of the infrequent lamp bulbs in this sparsely settled section.
Nothing about either of the pair would have aroused the suspicion of any resident of the neighborhood. Somewhat dirty turbans enwrapped their greasy black hair. Their faces were the dull mahogany hue of the Hindu.
Hindus, being British subjects, perform much of the labor in British Columbia. These two dark-skinned men had come from the vicinity of a lumber mill.
The two sailors cast aside all pretense of intoxication. They sprang aside into the shadows and ran forward. The two Hindus were hiding in the brush just above the wharf where Doc Savage had got his launch motor coughing. They remained motionless until the bronze man cast off and the small launch moved away.
THE Hindus started sliding down the shore. One was untying the rope of another launch when the tall and short sailors plunged down through the bushes.
"Grab that one in the boat, Monk!" commanded the tall sailor.
"O. K., Johnny!" squeaked the pleased chemist. "It ain't much, but it's somethin'!"
By that Monk meant the size of the Hindus promised little excitement. The apelike chemist was sure he could take care of a couple dozen of such natives of India. Monk whisked past the Hindu still untying the short rope and landed with an agile jump in the middle of the launch.
Johnny was close to the man on shore. Now he could see that even the mahogany make-up could not quite obliterate the fine texture of the man's skin. The Hindu's face possessed that same silvery fineness of features of the attackers they had met in the park.
Then Johnny became aware of something else. He had reached a long arm to seize the man. A hissing laugh of mockery greeted his effort. The bogus Hindu moved with the speed of a cat. Johnny heard a solid thump in the launch. That would be Monk knocking the other man down.
Johnny sprang again upon the Hindu who had eluded him. The man laughed again and Johnny identified the voice as that of the leader of the three killers of the previous night. Johnny was quick. He had dropped one of the gas capsules and was holding his breath.
The bogus Hindu squirmed away like an eel. He was speaking.
"The trick of the great Doc Savage will not work again," he mocked. "I speak but I do not breathe. You will fail."
Monk had flattened the other fake Hindu. He was scrambling from the launch to help Johnny. From the boat behind him floated a shrill, ear-piercing series of notes. The man on the floor of the launch had not moved, but a gleaming flute showed in his hands.
Monk pivoted to leap back upon him. His legs seemed to become weak. A dizzying sensation surrounded his brain. It felt as if his skull was swelling suddenly to enormous size.
Johnny had succeeded in getting a grip on the other Hindu. The man appeared to have ceased resistance. He was going to his knees under Johnny's steellike grasp.
Monk went to one knee. From his side pocket he pulled his supermachine pistol with its mercy bullets. He realized this was the only way he could end the eerie wailing music that was robbing him of his strength.
As if the hand of a monster had seized it, the pistol was torn from Monk's grasp. It flew through the air toward the tunic belt of the man in Johnny's grip. At the same instant Johnny's monocle jerked on its cord. It smashed with a tinkling of glass on the same belt where Monk's pistol now hung.
Johnny tried to get his own pistol. His fingers tightened inexorably on the Hindu's throat. The other man seemed to be clawing feebly at the buttons of his tunic. Johnny decided the man was nearly out, and he wanted to keep him alive. That had been Doc's order if they surprised any one following him.
Johnny relaxed his hold. Sinewy arms as powerful as metal rods swiftly pinioned him around the waist. Johnny felt his feet leaving the ground. He attempted to renew his hold, but his arms abruptly had no weight. He was being carried into the air.
MONK was almost unconscious when the flute ceased playing. As his senses returned he could see Johnny and the other Hindu floating near by. In the first moment the big chemist's dazed brain told him they must have fallen into the harbor. Johnny's bony face and the mahogany countenance of the Hindu holding him danced before Monk's uncertain vision.
Monk attempted to direct Johnny.
"Push the greasy Indian under!" he shrilled. "Drown 'im, Johnny!"
He made a supreme effort to give the geologist an example of how to drown a Hindu. His big hands were upon his own opponent's shoulders. Fighting the numbness in his brain and the terrific agonizing ringing in his ears, Monk tried to gather strength to shove the smaller man under water.
Then he discovered his arms had no weight. His stringy, corded muscles had become powerless. The Hindu was still tightly bound to his body by the clasp of persistent hands he could not loosen. Monk gasped chokingly as Johnny and the other Hindu arose from what the chemist had mistaken for water.