"051 (B034) - Mad Eyes (1937-05) - Laurence Donovan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"And when you get those fellows, then what?" inquired Ham sarcastically. "They haven't done anything to us but throw a little smoke in our eyes."
"I'm findin' out what kind of juice throws that smoke screen," announced the stubborn Monk. "Maybe we could use some of it."
Ham was watching the red tail-lights of the other car.
"I wouldn't be too sure we'll catch up with that fellow," he announced. "There's something funny about that motor. You haven't been gaining an inch."
Monk had the gas in his car wide open. The big chemist was mad all the way through. He knew Ham was telling the truth. For ten miles, he hadn't gained an inch.
"Suppose we call it off and get back to meet Doc," suggested Ham. "The message said midnight. That isn't far away."
Monk was holding the car at close to a hundred. The lights bored around a curve. They picked up a pair of brilliant red reflectors. Ham's fingers gripped Monk's right arm.
"Grade crossing, insect!" he rapped. "Pull her down!"
The red reflectors told where the highway crossed the lines of the railroad.
Monk had made no movement to slacken the speed.
Abruptly, the red reflectors disappeared. They were blotted out as if a giant hand had' smashed them off the crossing. The night was shattered with a rending, crackling crash. Two red tail-lights went up in the air.
These lights acted as if they were attached to pinwheels.
The crash died suddenly into a grinding drag. It sounded as if steel and glass were being dragged along the ground. One wild, human scream of pain came out of the darkness.
"Howlin' calamities!" exploded Monk, jamming on the brakes. "That car got hit at the crossin'! It's smashed to splinters!"
"Hit by what?" Ham grated. "There isn't a train in sight! Pull over, Monk! We'll have to look into this!"
The highway swung onto the railroad on a slight grade. Both of the red reflectors had been broken off. Nearly a hundred yards from the road crossing a bright flame flared up.
"Hurry up, Monk!" shouted Ham, running along one railroad track. "It's that car, an' it's on fire! They'll be burned up!"
Ham was correct in part. The blaze was shooting from what had been a part of an automobile. Other parts were scattered along the track.
Monk had twisted the headlight beams of his own car to cover part of the space. Ham was using one of Doc Savage's special generator flashlights. Both men were prepared for the shock of coming upon a scene of horror.
MONK and Ham reached the blazing fuel tank together.
"Good grief!" rapped Ham. "What became of the people in that car? Say! You don't suppose they jumped and made their get-away before the car crashed?"
Monk was standing in the middle of a track, scratching his head.
"It's confounded funny," he muttered. "Ham, there ain't any sign of anybody havin' been in that car, an' if there was, what hit 'em?"
"Why, it had to be a trainЧ" Ham began, then stopped. Then he blurted, "Monk, we didn't see any train! That car couldn't have been hit! It's been fifteen minutes since that last train passed us!"
"Daggonit!" growled Monk. "I don't like this! I looked all along the road where we stopped! There ain't any place the people in that car could have jumped out! Their lights were movin' as fast as ours all the time!"
Examination of parts of the car's seats showed no marks of blood. Monk took out a small bottle. He shook a greenish powder over the plush of the wrecked car's seats. Immediately, there appeared a faint glowing.
"Every seat was occupied," he announced. "There were five persons in that car within the past few minutes. So where did they go?"
Ham was kicking at the tire of one wrecked wheel. He bent down and ran his hand along the rubber.
"Listen, Monk!" he stated emphatically. "This is one of Doc's own cars! That tire's sponge rubber and can't be punctured! Have a look at this!"
Ham's foot kicked over a badly shattered infra-red beam projector among the wreckage.
"Howlin' calamities!" squeaked Monk. "You don't suppose Doc could have been in that car? I've been all around, an' nobody got hurt! Ham, I'll betcha something's happened to Doc! We'llЧ"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Ham. "Here comes something!"
The something was a thumping, banging gasoline car running on one railroad track. It came from the direction of Manhattan. The lantern of a railroad worker illumined a man in overalls.
The gasoline car chugged to a stop. The man climbed off.
"Hey! What's all this?" he demanded. "Somebody smack off them crossin' lights?"
Ham prodded Monk's ribs.
"About five minutes ago one of your trains smashed an automobile, and these pieces along here are all that's left," stated Ham. "The train didn't stop, and neither did the occupants of the car, so far as we can ascertain."
THE railroad man held up his lantern and looked closely at Ham's lean face.
"You're screwy, brother," he announced. "There ain't been no train up the line or down it since the express, an' that went north more'n twenty minutes ago. I guess I oughta know, because I'm the track inspector on this line. I just come buzzin' up the road an' there ain't a wheel turnin' in this ten-mile stretch."
"Is that so?" complained Monk. "That car could've smashed itself, but it didn't scatter the pieces a hundred yards along the track!"
The railroad track inspector walked up and down muttering.
"It's screwy, that's what it is," he repeated. "No automobile could be hit by a train where there ain't been no train. It's as nutty as what happened a while ago down in the yards. The watchman at that loony place they say is bein' run by Doc Savage was knocked off tryin' to climb over an express an' one of the bulls got himself caught in a door that don't have no locks, an'Ч"
"Good gravy!" rapped out Ham. "Monk, come on! Now we have got something to dig into! What did they find inside that Spargrove plant, if that's the place you mean?"
The track inspector rubbed his dazed eyes.
"So far, they ain't been able to bust in," he said. "But the police is lookin' for the fellow they call Doc Savage, andЧ"
Monk was loping back toward the car. He stopped abruptly.
A girl's voice had cried out. It came from a clump of bushes several yards above the railroad. This was on the opposite side from the parts of the wrecked car.
"Howlin' calamities!" yelled Monk. "Ham, there was somebody left from that car! It's a woman!"
Monk's flashlight beam picked out a face. It was the white, round face of a young woman. Her eyes were as snappy as black opals in the light.
"Well, can't one of you help me out of here?" she demanded.