"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 044 - South Pole Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Derek Flammen stared, blinking, at the single other person in the room.

"Velma Crale!" he gulped.
VELMA CRALE had frequently been called the female Amazon of the twentieth century, because of the feats
which she had performed. She did not look the part.

She was a small girl who looked as harmless as a mouse, and who had, just now, about the same coloring.
Her arms did not bulge with muscles, despite the manner in which she had been whacking Derek Flammen
about. Her features were regular, but not outstanding.

Velma Crale, just now, did not look like a heart smasher over whom two dignified Englishmen had fought a
duel, and for whom an Indian nabob had renounced a province and twenty-two wives. This was because
Velma Crale had dyed her hair to a nondescript hue, and was wearing no make-up, besides wearing some
very plain clothes.

Velma Crale, when she had on her war paint, was really something to look at. What was more effective, she
had glamour, personality, and a nice quota of brains.

Velma Crale was, incidentally, noted for her lack of interest in men. Thus far, her heart had been a rock on
which luckless admirers had dashed themselves unavailingly.

She waved the big pistol which she held, and with which she had been clubbing Derek Flammen.

"IтАЩve shot men before!" she said, meaningly.

This was true. She had, singlehanded, fought off a war party of cannibals on an occasion when her plane was
forced down in a New Guinea jungle.

Derek Flammen wet his lips. He kept his eyes on the gunтАЩs muzzle. The girl seemed to be considering her
next move. They stood thus for some moments.

During those moments, something happened that neither of the two in the room noticed. The window raised a
fraction of an inch. This was especially remarkable since the window opened on the side of the hotel which
was sheer for twenty stories down and ten upward.

Derek Flammen sighed loudly.

"You are not going to get away with this!" he growled.

Velma Crale sniffed. It was the same kind of a sniff she would give a toothless dog who made out as if he
were going to bite.

"You are as conceited as all men," she said, scathingly. "IтАЩm not afraid of you."

"Not with that gun, you wouldnтАЩt be!" Flammen grumbled.

Velma Crale smiled nastily. Then she did a thing which was indicative of the spirit which had earned her
reputation.

She tossed her loaded gun on the bed. Then she walked toward Derek Flammen with her fists up. Flammen