"coffinfortheavenger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepperman Emile C)

chauffeur?"

"I don't know, Nellie. He said he'd explain when he met us."

"But if that's all--"

"It's not quite all, Nellie. He also said something about not knowing where to turn;
that the only man he could have looked to for help had been killed today in a plane crash."

"Ah!" Nellie's eyes narrowed. They were pretty blue eyes, but they were keenly intelli-
gent. Indeed, she had to be intelligent to be able to work with a man like Benson.

"The teletype!" she exclaimed. "I saw it on the teletype before we left. Admiral Miles,
of Naval Intelligence, was killed in a plane crash at Pensacola this afternoon!"

In their headquarters in New York they had a teletype machine which received, in addition
to all the news services, the latest flashes from the police departments of nine States, and
the confidential releases of the F.B.I.

For that headquarters, located not far from New York's East Side, was known throughout
the world as Justice, Inc. And Dick Benson, its guiding genius, was known as The Avenger.
To that building on Bleek Street in New York, came men and women from all the far corners
of the world--men and women who could not find justice anywhere else; men and women who
found themselves beaten in a hopeless fight against criminals in high places, beyond the
reach of the law. Those men and women The Avenger helped. For he could go where the police
dared not. His justice was neither blind nor shackled.

And so it was that the poor man came to Justice, Inc., when he had not the funds to hire
a lawyer in a ten-dollar case, while the millionaire came when it was his only hope.

Of all these Benson selected those matters which plainly demanded his peculiar kind of
justice. With untold wealth at his command, and ably assisted by a close-knit circle of ass-
istants, he had made the name of The Avenger a synonym for ruthless war upon injustice.


He had chosen to answer Crawford's call tonight, because he had known Crawford well in
other years; and though the man was wealthy, he had mentioned over the phone that this was
a matter which might well involve the country's safety.

But now he was late, and Benson knew that the web of the Fates was being tightly spun.

Nellie Gray stiffened as she glimpsed a car which appeared over the rim of the hill,
heading down toward town, with the sun splashing golden behind it.

"Dick!" she exclaimed. "There's a car. It's a Rolls-Royce. It must be Crawford!"

As they both watched the car, Nellie spoke over her shoulder. "When Crawford called,
you told me to listen in on the extension, but I had to leave it for a moment to answer
another phone. I just caught part of something he said to you about--it sounded like a
black tulip."