"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 004 - The Polar Treasure" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The flat-chested man, cowering and fearful, knew little of Victor Vail. He only knew the music affected
him strangely. Once it made him think of how his poor mother had sobbed that first time he went to jail,
long years ago. He nearly burst into tears.

Then he got hold of his emotions.

"Yer gettin' goofy!" he sneered at himself. "Snap out of it! Ya got a job to do!"

SOON AFTERWARD, a taxi wheeled into the side street. It looked like any other New York taxi. But
the driver had his coat collar turned up, and his cap yanked low. Little of his face could be seen.

The cab halted. The small man scuttled out to it.

"Ya ready for de job?" he whined.

"All set," replied the cab driver. He had a very coarse voice. It was as though a hoarse bullfrog sat in the
taxi. "Go ahead with your part, matey."

The flat-chested man squirmed uneasily. "Is dis guy gonna be croaked?" he muttered anxiously.

"Don't worry about that end of it!" snarled the driver. "We're handlin' that. Keelhaul me, if we ain't!"

"I know - but I ain't so hot about gettin' mixed up in a croakin'

A thumping growl came out of the cab.

"Pipe down! You've already shipped with this crew, matey! Lay to an' do your bit of the dirty work!"

Now that the man in the taxi spoke excitedly, one thing about his speech was even more noticeable. He
had been a seafaring man in the past! His speech was sprinkled with sailor lingo.

The small man shuffled away from the cab. He entered the stage door of the concert auditorium.

Victor Vail had finished his violin playing. The audience was applauding. The hand-clapping was
tremendous. It sounded like the roar of Niagara, transferred to the vast hall.

The flat-chested man loitered backstage. Applause from the delighted audience continued many minutes.
It irked the man.

"De saps!" he sneered. "You'd t'ink Sharkey had just kayoed Schmeling, or somethin'!"

After a time, Victor Vail came to his dressing room. The blind maestro was surrounded by a worshipful
group of great singers and musicians.

But the loitering man shouldered through them. His shoving hands, none too clean, soiled the costly
gowns of operatic prima donnas, but he didn't care.

"Victor Vail!" he called loudly. "I got a message for yer from Ben O'Gard!"

The name of Ben O'Gard had a marked effect on Victor Vail. He brought up sharply. A smile lighted his