"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 009 - The Czar of Fear" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The railroad was electrified. The current, instead of being carried by an overhead line, was conducted by
a third rail which ran close alongside the track. Use of such third rails was common in the vicinity of New
York, where the presence of numerous switches and sidings made overhead wiring too intricate. The
charged rail was protected by a shedlike wooden shield.

A light came on. A wad of black cloth between Cash's jaws kept him from crying out.

He was thrown headlong at the electrified rail. With a frenzied contortion of his muscles, he managed to
avoid landing upon it.

The somber figures pounced upon him, and again hurled him at the rail. Again he saved himself. He was
fighting madly for his life. The shed protector over the rail helped him.

But one touch upon the strip of metal beneath, which bore a high voltage, would mean instant death.

The third time, Cash got an arm across the wooden shed and preserved his life. He tore the gag from his
jaws with a desperate grasp and emitted a piercing bleat for help!

The Green Bells swarmed upon him, silent, murderous. This time, they pitched him at the rail feet first.
One of his legs fell across the highpowered conductor.
There was a tiny hissing play of electric flame. Cash's body seemed to bounce up and down. It
convulsed, tying itself in a tight knot around the rail of death.

It stayed there, rigid and still. A wispy plume of brownish smoke curling upward might have been the
spirit departing from his body.

The Green Bells eased away in the rain-moist night like dread, voiceless ghouls from another existence.

Chapter II. VISITORS
THE TRIPLEX was New York's newest, gaudiest, and most expensive hotel. It catered to its guests
with every comfort and convenience.

Guests arriving by taxi, for instance, did not find it necessary to alight at the sidewalks and enter before
the stares of hoi polloi. There was an inclosed private drive for the cabs.

This drive was a semicircular tunnel done in bright metals and dark stone, after the modernistic fashion. In
it, a taxi was disgorging a passenger.

The newcomer was a tall snake of a man. The serpentine aspect was lent by the fact that his body was so
flexible as to seem boneless. His hair was carefully curled, and had an enameled shine. His eyes were
ratty; his mouth was a crack; his clothes were flashy enough to be in bad taste.

He paid the taxi with a bill peeled from a fat roll. Entering the lobby, trailed by a bell boy bearing two
bags, he leaned elbows on the desk.

"I'm Mr. Cooley," he said shortly. "I wired you for a reservation from Prosper City."

The man was conducted to his room. The bell boy was hardly out of hearing when he picked up the
telephone.