"077 (B041) - Merchants of Disaster (1939-07) - Harold Davis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Then came a rumor of strange visitors arriving in Washington. The investigators rushed there, sought trace of those strange visitors.



Two of those who came to the capital did not appear mysterious at all, nor did they seem to be courting secrecy.



In fact, they attracted much attention.



They came in a battered car. It rattled and clattered exceedingly and was covered with signs indicating it had once been the property of some college youth.



"Blondes and brunettes enter at their own risk," read a sign on one sagging door. "Redheads should know better."



The present occupants of the car did not seem interested in female companions of any kind. And certainly none of Washington's attractive stenographers showed any heart interest in them.



The driver was a slender man, clad in garments that would have been the despair even of a junk dealer. They were tattered and torn, as was an ancient felt hat that shaded a dirty face. His companion was no better dressed. He had the build and expression of a gorilla - not a pleasant, agreeable gorilla, but one in a bad mood.



The third occupant of the ancient wreck alone appeared presentable, and he was not human. While bearing a remarkable resemblance to the gorillalike man, this one was without doubt an ape. A bright red hat was on his head, while he squirmed uncomfortably in a vivid green sweater.



At a crowded corner the clattering car drew up to the curb and came to a stop. Solemnly, the big man hunched his way to the sidewalk, flipping one end of a chain. The ape leaped out, a tin cup in his hand.



The slender man behind the wheel also slid to the sidewalk, producing a battered hand organ. Without a word he began turning the crank.



The strains of "The Sidewalks of New York" startled passers-by. The ape danced about clumsily, bowing and scraping, his red hat in one hand, the tin cup held in the other.



"What's the second ape doin' along, he ain't even dancin'," someone snickered in the crowd.



A crimson flush crept up the face of the gorillalike man. His companion appeared to be having difficulty in breathing. Several undignified snorts came from him, and he turned the crank of the hand organ more rapidly.