"050 (B033) - The Terror in the Navy (1937-04) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

As an afterthought, he went to the fireplace. It was a gas log. He turned it on, touched a match to it, and adjusted the flame so that it was not too high.
"That makes it even simpler," he said.
"I don't get it," said the man. "I don't see any death trap."
Fuzzy chuckled.
"That piece of porous note paper is impregnated with a chemical which, when it is burned, releases a gas that will kill a man instantly," he said. "The minute Doc Savage burns that paper, he will die."
THEY went down to the street. It was almost dawn. Shade, black hat brim bent down over his eyes, waited behind the bakery truck wheel.
He extended a newspaper.
"Newsboy came past minute ago," he said. "I got a paper off him. Thought you might be interested."
Fuzzy took the journal. Headlines were large.
FOURTH NAVAL DISASTER OF
NIGHT. NAVY SUPPLY SHIP
CRASHES IN PANAMA CANAL
hint of mysterious force driving vessel
into locks rumored as navy has
fourth disaster of night.
"Four!" Fuzzy laughed heartily. "If they only knew what is coming!"
They got into the truck.
A man glanced anxiously at the apartment house and asked, "Are we gonna hang around and see if the trap gets Doc Savage?"
"Hang around and have the bronze guy spot us!" snorted Fuzzy. "Don't be naяve!"
He pronounced it "navy," then laughed over his own pun. They drove away.
A man asked, "What about this fellow Johnny?"
"We'll see how bulletproof he is, as soon as Doc Savage is done for," Fuzzy said, calmly.
Chapter 7. INDIA ALLISON
WHEN Doc Savage approached the Parkview Hotel, morning sun had flushed the sky. A newsboy stood in front of the place, howling headlines.
The "newsboy" was perhaps fifty years of age. He was plump, had gray hair and a face that did not look very pinched by care. His clothes were shabby, and he wore glasses with enormous shell rims.
Doc Savage bought a paper. He was recognized.
"You're Doc Savage!" the newspaper vender exploded excitedly. "Say, what's happening to all these battleships?"
"Imagine a good many people would like to know that," Doc told him, and went into the hotel.
A hallway directory gave him the number of Captain Blackstone Toy's apartment. A thin lock-picking probe let him into the apartment. He wore gloves.
Doc made a search of the place, found no one.
From inside his clothing came a tiny atomizer device with which he blew fine spray over the doorknob. This promptly became crusted with a brownish deposit.
Doc went to the picture of Lieutenant Bowen Toy. He sent a spray from the tiny atomizer over parts of the picture. The brown deposit appeared again, not in a smooth film, but in scattered patches.
The brown deposit was simply oily film left by human hands, as acted upon by chemical reagents from the atomizer. An infinitesimal oily deposit is left by the touch of almost any human hand.
The nature and consistency of the film naturally changes with time. The oil vaporizes, dries up. The less the oily film had vaporized, the more intense the brown deposit. Thus, Doc could judge accurately how long since hands had touched an object.
In the present case, he decided that men had been in the apartment not more than half an hour earlier, and had touched the picture. Close examination showed that the picture had been taken down from the wall. There was no dust on it, and there was never an ordinary housekeeper who dusted behind pictures regularly.
Doc did not use his bare fingers to remove the brads holding the cardboard backing of the picture. Brads can be poisoned. He used tiny pliers, also taken from inside his clothing.
He got the piece of porous note paper, and read it by the leaping flames of the gas fire in the fireplace.
To whom it may concern:
In case of this note being read, something will probably have happened. My brother, Captain Blackstone Toy, will be able to give valuable information on the matter. Please burn this note and examine the ashes.
LIEUT. BOWEN Toy.
Doc Savage gave close attention to the last sentence, the one about burning the note and examining the ashes. His glance went to the fireplace, to the flames leaping merrily within.
Doc strode over and touched a corner of the note to the flames. The thing burned rapidly. It gave off much smoke, which curled up around Doc's face.
The man of bronze fell to the floor and lay utterly still.
AN electric clock in the room continued its noise of tiny machinery running. The gas log in the fireplace hissed and its flames sounded windy.
The window came up.
"Oh!" choked a voice back of the window. "Oh!"
The owner of the voice came in. It was India Allison. More than ever horror was in her eyes as she flung across the floor and dropped beside Doc Savage.
"Why did it work?" she gasped. "What made it overcome you? I thought it was harmless paper?"
She reached for Doc Savage, as if to shake him.
Doc Savage, moving his metallic hands only a short distance, caught her wrists.