"Doc Savage Adventure 1938-08 The Munitions Master" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

Once more the little man's head jerked around. He swung his bread out of the way of an overenthusiastic celebrator, swore at him fiercely, while the palms of his hands were damp suddenly.

No one paid any attention. That is, no one human did.


THE peculiar-appearing creature could hardly have been called human, even if it was clad conventionally. Its hairy face indicated it was of simian, not human descent.

A tail hat was perched grotesquely on the creature's head. Long arms, half crooked, fell below the knees. It moved erect, but with a gliding motion.

It saw the bread, and its tiny eyes lighted. It slid resolutely after the thin man. A long arm reached out. A paw opened.

The little man's head turned. He saw, just in time. He gave a frightened scream, snatched the bread away.

There was a sudden commotion. Two figures plowed through the crowd.

"Chemistry!" shouted one. "Daggonit, ain't you got better sense than to try and steal food?"

The little man's eyes goggled. His head jerked forward like a turtle's. And from around him came a roar of good-natured amusement. The little man's amazement was justified.

For the man who had called out startlingly resembled the ape who had reached for the bread. He was a little thicker, but he was also wearing a tall hat. His arms, likewise, fell below the knees. And his eyes appeared buried in gristle until they were as tiny as those of the ape.

Behind him, a tall, slender man, immaculately dressed, doubled up in laughter.

"He thinks he's seeing double!" he roared. "And I don't blame him!"

A gasp of recognition came from the crowd. "Les assistants de Doc Savage!" came an incredulous whisper. "Doc Savage's men!"

The little man heard. He seemed to shrink back; his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hate.

The two men facing him did not notice. The tall, fashion-plate appearing man was apologizing in his best French. The other, who looked like an ape himself, was holding onto the simian, complaining plaintively.

"Daggonit, Ham," he bleated, "I told you to leave this ape at the hotel."

"Ham," otherwise known as Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks, Harvard's gift to the legal profession, snickered delightedly.

"And deprive Parisians of the pleasure of seeing twins, Monk?" he asked, with exaggerated politeness.

"Monk," known to the scientific world as Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Blodgett Mayfair, an outstanding chemist, swallowed hard.

Ham had dressed Chemistry, his pet ape, to resemble Monk as nearly as possible. And for once, in good-natured ribbing that had been going on for years, Monk knew Ham had the edge. And as Habeas Corpus, Monk's pet pig, was homesick, the hairy chemist, worried, was behind in his digs.

The little man with the bread disappeared in the throng. Neither Monk nor Ham saw him go.


IN an office on the third floor of the building across the street, a man was removing binoculars from his eyes. He had witnessed the little man's narrow escape at losing part of one loaf of bread.

A sign on the office door said, "Carloff Traniv, Avocat." But the office was a queer one for a lawyer to use. And the man himself did not appear to fall into that category.

Carloff Traniv stood almost six feet four. His frame was that of a soldier, more than an attorney. His shoulders were squared, his stomach lean. His morning clothes fitted him as if he had been poured into them, but he gave them the effect of a military uniform, not a civilian dress.