"042 (B046) - The Midas Man (1936-08) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

"Ps-s-st!"
came out of the bushes.
The streetcleaner stopped and peered. He saw a young man on all fours in the bushes, apparently hunting for something.
"I'm trying to find something," the young man called softly. "There's five bucks in it for you, if you'll help me."
The streetcleaner hastily trundled his can to the curbing, left it and walked into the bushes to stop and look down at the young man who was on all fours. Since the latter had not looked up, the streetcleaner had failed to see his face as yet.
"Whatcha huntin?" asked the streetcleaner.
"It would be rather hard to explain," said the young man.
He then reached inside his clothing and brought out a small glass phial. He emptied the contents of this, a liquid, on the ground beside him. Simultaneously, he held a handkerchief over his own mouth and nostrils.
"What the heck?" demanded the streetsweeper. "You nuts or something?"
The young man made no reply to this.
The streetsweeper seemed to grow sleepy. He yawned. He shut his eyes. Then he fell to the ground and began to snore.
The young man bent over the streetsweeper and began removing the latter's rather ample white uniform. The streetcleaner was a large man, and the uniform had been made larger than was necessary for him, since he wore it over his regular clothes.
The man playing the part of Alex Mandebran donned the somewhat soiled white uniform. The cap had "Department of Sanitation" on the band. He pulled it well down over his eyes.
He started away, paused, then came back. From a pocket he withdrew a wallet. The contents of this must have been thousands of dollars. The man extracted a twenty, folded it, and tucked it in the sleeping streetsweeper's vest pocket.
NONE of the excited group about the apartment house paid particular attention to the large man in the white uniform of a Department of Sanitation employee who trundled his trash can past them. A great deal of microscopic trash was cleaned up in the vicinity during the next few minutes. It did not take an extraordinarily keen pair of ears to ascertain what the excitement was about.
The newspaper reporters were squabbling with the doorman. The trouble seemed to be that Sylvan Niles did not want to be interviewed. She had given the doorman ten dollars to keep the gentlemen of the press out. The reporters were trying to outbid the young woman, but the doorman had now gotten mad and was telling them specifically where they could go.
The man in the streetcleaner's uniform now trundled his trash can around to the back. He peered furtively into the delivery entrance of the apartment house. There was a service elevator, with an operator. Two newspapermen were trying to persuade the operator to take them up. They were having no luck.
The man in the streetcleaner's uniform now hurried to a neighborhood grocery store. He brought a small quantity of groceries, which were placed in a spare cardboard carton. He carried these on his shoulder, so that the box half hid his face, and entered the apartment house.
"Fourth floor," he said. "I wanta collect some money, so I gotta take 'em up myself."
This ruse got him into the apartment house. He searched rapidly and found a door with the name card:
SYLVAN NILES
He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again.
The door whipped open and a feminine voice snapped, "I told you newspaper—"
The voice stopped. The young woman stared, her eyes widening. Suddenly she drove her hand into the neck opening of her frock and brought out a small revolver. She pointed this at the man in the streetcleaner's uniform.
"Come in, Alex Mandebran," she said. "I can't think of anybody I would rather see, right now!"
Chapter V. A DIFFERENT COFFIN
SYLVAN NILES was a young woman with horror in her eyes.
She was also a young woman who achieved the unusual combination of being extremely pretty, and still managing to look efficient. She would never have made a movie actress. She was too tall. Movie directors are chary of having heroines taller than heroes.
"Come in," she repeated. Her voice was queerly hoarse.
The man in the white uniform carried the groceries in, put them on a table in the living room of an apartment which looked as if it had been rented furnished.
The girl held the revolver steady.
"I've been reading the newspapers!" she said, hoarsely. "It has come to me what this terrible thing is all about."
The young man shrugged. "If you know, you know more than I do."
"Turn around!" ordered Sylvan Niles, grimly.
"What?"
"Turn around. Put your hands over your head and press you palms against the wall. Better still, step back about four feet, and lean forward, resting your weight against the wall. I don't want you moving quickly."
The visitor hesitated, then complied. The young woman slapped a hand over his person, obviously searching for a weapon. She found none.
"All right," she said. "Now we're going places!"
"What if I don't choose to go?" the man demanded.
"I don't know," said the girl. "I might shoot you."
"They electrocute people here for that."
"They wouldn't electrocute me," Sylvan Niles said, grimly. "Not if what I suspect is true."
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," she retorted. "The world thinks that Jethro Mandebran has absconded, or possibly been kidnaped. There is not the slightest suspicion of what is really behind it. If the truth should come out, right now, and the newspapers publish it—well, it wouldn't be believed."
"Why not?"
"Too incredible! Too fantastic!"
"What about Hando Lancaster?" asked the large young man.
This had a remarkable effect on the young woman. She cocked her gun.
"You do know what's behind this!" she gritted.
The captive shrugged resignedly.