"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 041 - The Black Spot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Andrew Podrey Vandersleeve had only a black spot over his heart. The upper social strata of Westchester,
an exclusive residential suburb of New York, was due for a shock.

Wild merriment rippled the night mist over the hills. The several hundred guests might have been hoodlums
and their molls.

Yet upstairs, beside Andrew Podrey VandersleeveтАЩs inert head, much real money lay undisturbed. There were
a number of century notes and bills of small denomination. These were in a neat pile, with a few pieces of
silver weighting them down.

Because of the character of the party, guards were everywhere. The guns in their low-slung holsters had the
businesslike mark of the law upon them. Four men wore the uniforms of State police.

The State coppers remained on the highway outside the Vandersleeve estate. Their keen eyes surveyed the
occupants of each arriving automobile.

In pairs, the four State policemen were stationed at the front corners of the estate wall. One wearing the
insignia of a sergeant was growling aloud.

"IтАЩve got a hunch somethingтАЩs due to crack wide open before this thingтАЩs over."

"Well, it could happen," said the other policeman.

A swanky car swung past them. The chauffeur was sitting upright, with a scornful expression on his clean
features. His passengers were shouting and singing.

Meeting this sedan head-on another car swung down the road. This, too, had a dignified chauffeur. Its
occupants were roughly clothed. Their faces were masked.

It seemed for a split-second as if the cars would collide. But both chauffeurs were adroit drivers. With an effort
they avoided a direct clash. The fenders grated and rubbed. One car slid into the shallow ditch.

The driver of the other car braked to a stop. Five or six men in masks spilled onto the concrete.

"If it ainтАЩt Happy Joe himself," shouted one of these men, with a laugh. "All right, Joe, shove them dames out
anтАЩ alla you line up!"

Three women were pushed out. They uttered little screams and sent their white hands into the air. Three men
lined up beside them. One of the three men was young, but his eyes were bloodshot. He was the one called
"Happy Joe." He seemed to take some pride in the cognomen.

While three of the masked men kept pistols pointed, the others started relieving the victims of their cash and
jewelry. They met with no resistance. The two State policemen walked closer. They were thinking this
"holdup" was part of the horseplay of the "gangster party."

"Please, donтАЩt take that!" suddenly pleaded one of the women.
She pulled back a slender hand. On one finger was an emblem ring that might have been a family heirloom.

"Says you!" rapped one of the masked men. "There wonтАЩt be any holdinтАЩ out! Oh, you wouldтАФ"