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

"Still O. K.," he rapped. He strutted into the bedroom, the gun going back into his pocket.
A man lay on the bed. It was hard to tell what he really looked like. His features showed the marks of a recent beating. He was spread-eagled on the bed, each hand and each foot tied to a bedpost. His eyes were blank, but occasionally an arm or leg would jerk convulsively. That, evidently, had caused the noise the others had heard.
The thin-faced man looked at him judiciously. "He's comin' out of it, I think," he said. "Maybe we oughtta give him another shot."
A frown creased the bigger man's homely face. "We ain't supposed to give him too much of that dope," he protested. He walked over, leaned down to look into the bound man's eyes.
Several things happened at once.
Ropes appeared to fly apart at both ends of the bed. The bound man was no longer bound. He reared up, looped one arm over the head of the bending figure, slapped the other fist into the man's face and head. The big man sat down.
The thin-faced man jerked for his gun. He had it half out of its holster before the man on the bed got up. Then the other cracked him with a right that threw him clear across the room.
The erstwhile prisoner started to run toward the door. He didn't get there. The bouncer was only groggy. He caught the other by the legs, brought him down in a football tackle.
After that, fists appeared to be flying from all directions.
The bouncer tried to get up. That was a mistake. His opponent flexed his legs, caught the bouncer in the belly and threw him into a wall so hard that his neck cracked.
Then the former prisoner, more battered than ever, weaved to his feet. The words he muttered were almost indistinguishable, but once in a while it seemed that he said, "Doc Savage."
Groggily, he moved toward the door and freedom. He didn't see the newcomer just outside the door. That newcomer drew a gun, stepped to one side and brought the butt of the weapon down hard as his victim came into range.
MONK and Ham spent a peaceful night. They hadn't expected anything to happen in Chicago.
They came down at an airport off the usual track and telephoned Doc. That was when they got their first surprise. They had expected Doc would come out at once and that the three of them would head immediately for Arkansas.
"Our plans are changed. Join me at the hotel here," Doc instructed crisply.
The dapper engineer and the hairy chemist were more bewildered when they reached Doc's suite. The bronze man wasted no words. Without explanation, he showed them the listening device and handed each a magnifying glass.
A low whistle came from Ham. Monk's jaw dropped. "Renny's fingerprints," the chemist ejaculated in amazement.
"But howЧ" Ham started.
In crisp sentence, Doc explained how the listening device had come into his possession.
"Could those prints have been made after Renny was dead?" Monk demanded.
Doc shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "They contain the natural oil of fingerprints made by a person who is alive. Also, it seems apparent that they had been made within an hour or two at the most before I first saw them."
"Then Renny's not dead! He's here!" A delighted grin spread over Ham's face. He pounded Monk on the back. "We won't have to go to that swamp, after all."
"Always thinkin' of your clothes," Monk grumbled.
"Perhaps it was intended that we should believe it unnecessary to visit the swamp," Doc put in quietly.
Ham's eyes flickered, then narrowed. "It could be. That would mean Renny is a prisonerЧand naturally he is, or he would have shown up. So we will have to take time out to find him. But why would anyone go to that much trouble to keep us away from the swamp? What could be behind it?"
Doc did not answer. His aides shrugged. They were accustomed to the bronze man's habit of apparently failing to hear questions that he did not wish to answer at the time.
A slow grin was spreading over Monk's homely face. "Renny's alive, but still there may be some fighting," he piped.
Ham frowned thoughtfully. "The bringing of Renny here would seem to indicate that more than just opposition of the swamp dwellers is behind all this. We should check and see if there was any real strong outside opposition to the flood-control project."
"I did," Doc said simply. "Through newspaper friends here I checked with all congressmen who had anything to do with recommending the dam. Their answer in every case was the same. The only opposition came from those who lived in the swamp."
"What now?" Monk demanded.
"Ham is right," the bronze man said. "We know Renny is alive. But our first step must be to find him. We willЧ"
The bronze man broke off. The door to the room had opened. Monk and Ham whirled to face it. They, too, showed surprise.
Two men were entering the room. One was medium-sized, well dressed, with a look of sleek efficiency on his round face. He wore a pink carnation in his coat lapel.
The other was a veritable giant, but a giant who looked as if he had been run through a sausage grinder, or else had been the object of a gang attack.
It was Renny!
DOC and his aides were not the only ones who were surprised.
From a room down the hall a head was projecting cautiously. It was the head of a black-haired girl with large, dark eyes. Just now those eyes were open even wider than usual.
"It couldn't be!" she gasped uncertainly. "That is the one that must be known as Renny. And he is dead!"
Then the girl's lips snapped together in a very businesslike gesture. She glanced cautiously up and down the hallway. From her purse reappeared the small gun she had used on Monk and Ham.
A moment more, and she floated down the hallway silently. She stopped just outside the door to Doc's suite. After a brief hesitation, she put the gun back in her purse, drew out lipstick and powder instead.
Had anyone seen her, it would have appeared she merely had stopped to apply some make-up. But her ear was very close to the door.
Monk and Ham were bubbling excitedly. The stranger who had entered with Renny was standing at one side, smiling amusedly. Only Doc showed no emotion.
Renny's eyes were slightly fogged. He appeared to have difficulty in speaking, as though his tongue was thick.
"I found him down the street a few minutes ago," the stranger said quite smoothly. "I recognized him, knew he must be looking for you, Mr. Savage, so I brought him here."
Doc's gold-flecked eyes turned inquiringly toward the stranger. The bronze man did not speak, but the other appeared to lose some of his self-assurance. A faint glow of color came to his cheeks.
"I am Fletcher Carter, a private detective," the stranger explained hurriedly. "Knowing faces is part of my job. This man of yours looks as though he had been beaten and drugged."
Doc nodded, "He has been drugged." he said. The bronze man turned to a small bag, selected a hypodermic and a vial of almost colorless liquid. He made a small injection in Renny's huge forearm.
Almost immediately the big engineer's eyes cleared, he stood more erect.
"What happened to you? How did you get here?" Monk was demanding heatedly. "Say something, can't your
Renny looked around slowly. "I've been fighting," he said at last.