"036 (B027) - Mystery Under the Sea (1936-02) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

He tried to sound puzzled, earnest, but he was not a very good actor.
"Listen, guy," said the other, "don't lie about it. We know she hired you."
"No," the man insisted.
"She sent you aboard to open the sea-cocks of our hooker, while all hands were ashore," the other told him, grimly. "You went her one better than that. You smuggled a keg of acid aboard."
"And dumped the acid in the bilge," echoed another. "The cursed stuff ate the plates right out of the bottom of our hooker. She's leakin' like a sieve!"
"This is all a mistake," insisted their captive.
"We found the empty acid keg," he was told. "It was glass lined. It was a keg you said held your private stock of liquor."
The prisoner rolled his eyes wildly.
The captive was a small man, but he had very large bones which gave him a sturdy aspect. There was a bald spot as round as a plate on top of his head. His clothing was rough and his pants legs had large bottoms, sailor fashion.
One thing about his appearance was particularly strikingЧhis skin: it looked as if some weird phenomenon had brought all blood vessels to the surface. This gave a purple complexion which was rather hideous.
He struggled slightly, and there was a great horror coming over his features.
"I'm gonna die, if you don't let me go," he wailed. "After what you scuts done to me, there's only one thingЧ"
A captor kicked him, snarled, "Put lashing on that tongue!"
The masked group seemed to be undecided about what to do next.
"Puttin' a knife in his 'midships is the quickest way out," one suggested.
"Nix," another objected. "We want to give that Diamond Eve dame somethin' to think about. We had him fixed, only he's tougher than we expected."
"He's done for," said a third. "It may take a little time, but he's done for."
The one who had suggested the knife snorted.
"What if he gets to a hospital? Some of them Manhattan hospitals are fitted up to take care of what's gonna happen to him."
They thought that over.
Suddenly, one grunted and drew a bottle from his clothing. He shook the bottle, so that the liquid inside gurgled.
"This is a sample of what's left in that glass-lined keg," he said. "I was keepin' this stuff to show the big shot. But I got an idea."
He fell upon the prisoner, wedged the fellow's mouth open with a gun barrel, uncorked the bottle and poured some of the contents into the captive's mouth. The result was grisly. The unfortunate man emitted a series of horrible shrieks, until they clamped a coat over his face. It was some moments before they removed the coat.
The captive's mouth, lips, and the lower part of his face were hideously burned. His whining and gagging noises were pitiful.
"
ACID," said the man with the bottle. "It'd eat the flukes off an anchor."
"What about his hands?" a man objected. "He'll write a note asking to be taken to a hospital."
The man with the bottle leered. "I'll fix that, too."
He flashed a sheath knife and used it.
"Scuttlin' our ship is nearly gonna make us lose out on that Taz thing," he growled. "This pays you back for that. And it'll teach Diamond Eve a lesson!"
He released the victim and the man staggered away, making small, unearthly noises. Agony from his burned mouth was so great that he was oblivious of the trickle of scarlet from his wrists. He began to run as best he could.
His hands were now useless. The tendons had been severed.
A shout, ugly, full of threat, came from those who had maltreated him. But it was doubtful if he heard.
"Tell the dameЧif you canЧthat she'll get worse than that, if she don't furl her sails!" advised the one who shouted.
The mutilated man's run was more of a stagger, which an average walk would have outpaced. He came, unexpectedly, out of the brush and found himself on close-mown grass, beyond which glittered light on a great shedded platform which stood on steel stilts.
The victim's eyes were running with tears of pain and he had to peer for some moments before he recognized the structure as the terminus of an elevated line. He ran toward it.
There was a crowd of sweltering citizens, bound for the parks, the beaches. Many gasps of horror were brought by sight of the mutilated man. A woman fainted. Strangely enough, no one touched the fellow or offered to help him. Possibly, the hideous sight of him kept them away.
The metal steps of the elevated stairway were slippery with scarlet before the man got to the top, and he had fallen twice. The crowdЧthose who had stout stomachs, followed him up, but kept their distance, as if he were some poisonous thing. The man faced them, made his horrible sound at them, but nothing that could be understood.
Below, they were shouting for policemen, for an ambulance. A woman was screaming that a maniac was at large and had butchered himself.
The mutilated man was plainly desperate. He roved his pain-hazed eyes.
And at this point, fate stepped in. Probably the fact that the victim observed a certain poster, could not be attributed to anything but a combination of circumstances. But it was certain that he saw the poster. For he stumbled close to it, let his blurred eyes observe it more closely.
It was merely one of the large posters exhibited on railway station platforms in the metropolitan area for advertising purposes. This one was plugging a certain popular national magazine. The man plainly was not interested in the title of the magazine. His attention was centered on the words which described the leading features in the magazine for the month. It read:
DOC SAVAGE'S AMAZING SAGAЧ
ASTOUNDING DETAILS ABOUT THE
MAN OF MYSTERY
IN THIS MONTH'S ISSUE
What he had read suggested something to the mutilated man. He dived into a train which had been standing at the platform.
The train was due to leave and the conductor must have been unaware of what was happening, because he applied the current and the string of cars clanked away. The victim huddled in the rear of a coach and rebuffed those who sought to aid him.
Chapter 2. THE MUTE AND THE DEAD
An argument was taking place behind a door on the eighty-sixth floor of a towering midtown skyscraper. The lettering on the door read: