"063 (B064) - The Motion Menace (1938-05) - Ryerson Johnson" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Moe stopped. He showed his teeth, lathered his gums with a red tongue, burped, then lurched around and retreated.
"You can't tell me Moe is a pet!" Pat said shakily.
"His temper may not be the best," the old man said sorrowfully. "You see, his stomach has been bothering him. He likes that strong brown Chinese beer, but we unfortunately ran out of it."
One of the bearded men then stooped and began working on the floor. The interior of the cave was veined with cracks, that being the nature of the stone.
The man working on the floor lifted a slab of stoneЧa trapdoor.
"You see," said Pat's informant, "any one finding this place with Moe in it would think it a mere bear's den."
Pat almost remarked that as far as she was concerned it was anyway, but didn't.
AFTER several polite bows, Pat was guided into the hole in the floor. She expected steps. There were none here.
Pat discovered herself standing in what seemed to be a metal bucket about seven feet deep and three across. There were handholds around it, and the sides were padded.
Three of the old men got in with Pat. The bucket lacked the size to hold all of them. The others said they would wait for the second trip.
Some one operated a switch or a lever. The bucket sank. But the way did not lie downward much of the distance, either. Instead, the bucket traveled on one side. Pat appreciated the padded sides and the handles then. Because she had the sensation of standing on her head, she knew the bucket was being pulled upward.
They came out in a twilight, and Pat looked around. What she saw was amazing enough that she somewhat forgot about being mad.
She stood in a giant crack. There were walls of stone on each side, the natural rock sides of the crack, which Pat judged to be four hundred feet high, or more. The width at the bottom was nowhere more than two hundred feet. Strangely, the crack seemed narrower at the top. Pat decided this might be an optical illusion.
Suddenly Pat became so interested in listening that she forgot all else. There was a sound in the air. A weirdly fantastic sound. An orchestration. The vibrations did not rise and fall. They were steady.
Pat was escorted to a mass of stone which looked as if it had fallen into the crack, but hadn't. It proved to be a box of a hut, carefully camouflaged. There was a door, but no lock on the door.
"Unfortunately, madame, we never prepared to keep prisoners," an old man told Pat.
"Listen here, you old goats!" Pat snapped. "Why did you bring me here?"
"It is very simple, madame. You are associated with Doc Savage indirectly. You started to the Orient and began inquiring for Captain Wizer. Obviously, you knew something. So we set about apprehending you."
"But," Pat exclaimed, "I only wanted to hire Captain Wizer to build beauty apparatus!"
"In that case, we took some lives needlessly."
Pat looked horrified. "Then you did wreck the China Rocket?" she gasped.
"That was an unfortunate bit of futility, it seemsЧif you only wanted Captain Wizer to build beauty machines," the old fellow said calmly, and walked away.
Pat stood and stared after him. She turned away. Utter revulsion was on her features. All those innocent passengers aboard the China RocketЧ
There was a noise at the door. Pat turned.
"Captain Wizer!" she gasped.
CAPTAIN WIZER was a tall affair of bones and wrinkled hide. He had no beard. He did have piercing eyes and a forehead of almost remarkable size. He wore big horn-rimmed spectacles and they had thick lenses which magnified his eyeballs, giving them a weird aspect. He wore a long white smock, very heavy rubber gloves and a strange sort of mask of some kind of metal that resembled lead was dangling around his neck.
"Ay yust bane learn 'bout you," he said.
"YouЧyou're one of these butchers!" Pat snapped grimly. The old manЧWizer was past sixtyЧblinked soberly.
"It vars too bad dis had to happen. Ay don't vant to see you ha'ar."
"Who are these old men?" Pat asked.
"Ve oll bane Elders," said Wizer.
"So you old reprobates call yourselves the Elders, eh? I think murderers would be more apt."
Old Wizer blinked owlishly at her behind his thick spectacles.
"It yust bane too bad," he muttered. "Oll you can do bane to hope. MaybeЧ" He fell silent.
"What have I done?" Pat demanded angrily.
"You got yourself mixed up in somet'ings so big dot you can't do anyt'ings 'bout her. Ay vould not tell you any more."
"But I only came to China to get you to design beauty apparatus!"
"Ay know. But ve make mistake. Ve bane tank Doc Savage send you to investigate us."
Pat could think of nothing to say to that. Old Wizer stood there squirming.
"Ay don't tank His Highness bane here now," he said finally. "Vhen he come, Ay bane try to see you don't die. You bane awful pretty girl to die."
He shuffled away, head down, looking sorrowful.
PAT stood and thought. She had accidentally come upon something sinister. The old men thought she had been sent by Doc Savage. They were scared of Doc. That was not strange.
Doc Savage, the man of bronze, the man of mystery, the mental marvel, as the newspapers called him, had a reputation which was capable of frightening crooks. For evildoers were Doc's specialty.
These Elders were taking no chances.
Pat snorted, and went back to the door. It did not have a lock, she had noted. She craned her neck and looked through the ventilating slit. Then she opened the door the merest crack. It did not make a noise.
An old man stood beside the door, on guard. The fellow must have been made a trifle deaf. He had not heard the door. No other Elders were in sight.
Pat was an impulsive young lady. She picked out a spot behind the old gentleman's right ear and let him have it.
She grabbed, jerked him inside. No need to hit him again, though. He was out. She shook him out of his gaberdine and lifted off his fur cap, which had not been knocked off. Under the gaberdine he wore a rather startlingly brilliant uniform. There was much gold braid and many medals, some of them jeweled. She looked closely at the medals. Genuine!
Pat stepped out clad in the gaberdine and the white fur hat.
She had not taken a dozen steps when one of the old men saw her. He was the fellow guarding the tunnel mouth. But he did not give an alarm, and she went on, satisfied she had fooled him. She headed toward the upper end of the crack and quickly rounded the bend.