"078 (B078) - The Crimson Serpent (1939-08) - Harold Davis" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Yet all were showing excitement now.
The last course of the banquet had been served. The time for speeches had arrived. And all attention was centered on the man who rose to speak.
Clark Savage, Jr., was the guest of honor. After long urging, he had consented to tell of one of his most thrilling adventures.
"I understand it will be of the time he penetrated the earth to such a distance that he encountered a strange substance never before found," one guest whispered to his companion.
"I've heard rumors," the other replied excitedly. "There was something about a 'living fire' connected with it, that caused men to die in flames without apparent cause."
Sudden silence fell over the assemblage.
THE man who arose did not seem so largeЧat first glance. It was only those near him who realized that the excellent fit of his dinner jacket concealed a body so perfectly symmetrical, so well put together, that it gave the impression of easy flowing strength rather than size.
The man's face was bronze-colored. His hair, only a shade darker, was pressed close to his head. But it was his eyes that first drew attention. Those eyes appeared to be deep pools of whirling gold. They had a strange, almost hypnotic intensity.
Then he began to speak. He did not raise his voice, but it had a peculiar carrying quality that enabled it to be heard in every corner of the large dining room.
"The discovery I wish to tell you about," Doc Savage began, "was made far beneath the southern California desert. It concerns the finding of a substance that, under certain circumstances, transformed men into living fire."
Every listener was leaning forward. It seemed the large audience scarcely breathed.
For several seconds Doc Savage stood motionless. Then he turned, spoke into the ear of the master of ceremonies seated at the table beside him. A moment later and he straightened.
"I am sorry but I must delay the story I had intended to tell," he said quietly. "News of great importance has just reached me that requires an immediate answer. If possible, I will return before you adjourn."
A flustered master of ceremonies started up, called on another speaker. Doc Savage slipped from the room. He did not appear to be moving fast, but he was gone almost before the others present realized what was happening.
A low murmuring filled the dining room. No one had seen a message delivered to the bronze man. That was not surprising. The wrist watch he wore was not the type to attract undue attention but it was useful for receiving emergency messages from his aides when necessary.
Acquired as the result of a previous adventure, the wrist watch really contained a delicate, ultra-violet ray receiver. Messages, flashed by the rays, were transmitted to the back of his wrist in the form of heat waves.
The only disadvantage in the watch Doc wore lay in the fact that it was a receiver only. He had not thought it necessary to wear a larger type that contained a transmitter as well.
Now he sped toward his room in the same hotel. He opened a small suitcase, took out a tiny microphone and donned headphones.
"This is Doc," he said quietly. "Please repeat the message you just sent by ultra-violet ray."
IN New York, Monk and Ham leaned back with sighs of relief. Swiftly, Ham repeated the message they had received over the telephone, the story that had been told Monk by the Arkansas chief of police.
"Ham and me want to beat it down there tonight," Monk put in excitedly. "We'll get whatever it was got RennyЧ"
"Fit out the dirigible," Doc's voice interrupted quietly. "Meet me here in the morning. Bring with youЧ"
Calmly, efficiently, he listed equipment he wished brought along.
Monk and Ham exchanged swift glances. Doc's instructions were indication enough. The bronze man was showing clearly that he did not think the solution would be as simple as Monk believed. Doc said nothing about Renny, but his aides knew the bronze man felt the loss of the big engineer keenly.
The hairy chemist opened his big mouth to speak. The mouth remained open, but no words came forth.
The girl was responsible for that.
She had entered through the corridor door Monk had used and had left unlocked. Small, weighing less than a hundred pounds, with perfectly black hair and large, dark eyes, she stood just inside the door, a look of amazement on features that would have been envied by any movie star.
She was looking at Monk.
"I do not think," she said slowly and distinctly, "that I have ever seen a face so homely, or a person who looked so much like an animal."
Crimson flooded Monk's features. He seemed unable to move. Ham whirled, took in the situation at a glance. The dapper lawyer's head went back, he roared with laughter.
"At last!" he gasped. "At long last a girl finally tells the truth about Monk's face."
The girl's gaze shifted slightly to take in Ham. "And I don't think much of giggling gigolos, either," she said flatly.
Ham's mirth choked off in mid-gasp. He looked as if his collar had suddenly become too tight for him.
"If you will kindly explain this intrusion," Ham began, with cold dignity. "I am sureЧ"
"I am not sure," the girl broke in frigidly. "I am not sure at all that I wish to hire a man gorilla and a laughing gigolo."
"Hire?" Monk blurted stupidly.
"Hire was what I said," the girl snapped angrily. "I really do need a detective. Perhaps you will do, although neither of you look quite bright." She shrugged small shoulders. "However, the task I have is not very difficult. And you were recommended to me highly, although I cannot understand why."
"Lady," Ham began grimly. "I don't know who told you we were detectivesЧ"
"Don't apologize," the girl rapped. "I don't believe much detecting ability will be needed. I want you to find a man for meЧ"
"I don't blame him for runnin'," Monk grunted, almost inaudibly.
"Чand I have reason to believe he has gone to the Arkansas swamp lands," the girl concluded coolly.
MONK'S expression did not change, but huge muscles tightened suddenly under his shirt. Irritation vanished from Ham's face, his expression became urbane, his voice smooth.
"I don't believe you told us your name," the lawyer said crisply.
"Consuelo Manresa," the girl answered, "but now that I think it over, I am not sure that I wantЧ"
"And the person you are seeking?" shot Ham.
"S-sometimes he is called Georges Douter." The girl appeared bewildered by Ham's sudden change.
"Small, with dead black hair, usually well dressedЧ"
Ham shot an inquiring glance at Monk. The hairy chemist shook his head. "Not the guy that made the call."
Consuelo Manresa apparently didn't hear him. "But he is excellent at disguises," she went on. "And he has a rather conceited opinion of himself. Sometimes he describes himself as the OracleЧ"
Monk and Ham both went into action together. That was a mistake. But they were thinking of Renny. And here seemed a connecting link with the man who had told them Renny was dead.