"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 008 - The Sargasso Ogre" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Long Tom scraped thoughtfully in his thin hair. "You think that getting in touch with the ships named on
the belt will cast a light on this mystery?"

"I believe Scotland Yard's answer to this radiogram will throw light on something a good deal more
horrible than these present difficulties of ours," Doc replied quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I have heard of most of those ships -- heard something which suggests a very unpleasant possibility. We
will know more about it when we get Scotland Yard's reply."

Long Tom would have liked to probe for more definite information, but knew it would be futile. Doc was
not in the habit of giving voice to idle theories. When he had proved his suspicions to be facts, word
would be forthcoming.

They went out on deck, after filing the wireless message for immediate transmission.

The lights of Alexandria receded rapidly in the warm night. Monk and the others joined Doc. Together,
they stood at the rail and conversed, speculating on whether or not their troubles had been left behind.

The Cameronic rapidly quieted, for the passengers -- mostly tourists -- had spent a strenuous day
sight-seeing, and were quick to retire. The liner plowed silently through the night. Somehow, it had the
aspect of a shiny, new coffin fitted with lights.

The tomblike atmosphere, enwrapping a ship so new and so elaborate, lent the impression that they were
starting a voyage of death.

Not until the light on the Cape of Figs, at Alexandria harbor, was a winking white eye in the distance, did
Doc and his men retire for the night.
 Chapter V. THE SCALP BELT
AN hour before dawn. Doc Savage arose and. attired in a bathing suit, went up to the sun deck for his
daily routine of exercise. The deck was deserted at this early hour.

In a remote spot in the forest of elevators and funnels, Doc began his usual ritual.

These exercises were the explanation of Doc's amazing physical and mental powers. They lasted a full
two hours. Every second of that time he was working out at full speed. He had done this sort of thing
daily from childhood.

He made his muscles tug, one against the other, until all of his mighty bronze body glistened under a film
of perspiration. He juggled a number of more than a dozen figures in his head, multiplying, dividing,
extracting square and cube roots. This intricate mental arithmetic sharpened his ability to concentrate.

He employed an apparatus which created sound waves of frequencies above and below those audible to
the normal ear. Thanks to his lifetime of practice, Doc was able to hear many of these sounds. His
hearing was unbelievably keen.

He named numerous odors contained in a case of small vials. He read pages of Braille print -- the system
of upraised dots which is the writing of the blind. This sharpened his sense of touch.