"046 (B052) - The Vanisher (1936-12) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

She wore a spinsterish hat which allowed only a tendril or two of hair to show, gossamery hair that was almost the color of polished silver. Spectacles did not do justice to a pair of entrancing eyes, and lack of rouge and lipstick did not detract a great deal from the ravishing effect of the rest of her features.
DOC SAVAGE'S examination of the scene inside the prison was rapid enough to surprise almost every one. He seemed to give only a glance here and there.
"The guy ain't half trying to solve the mystery," a reporter in the background grunted.
"Don't fool yourself!" jeered a companion journalist. "That guy is a wizard!"
At this point, Doc Savage said distinctly, so that every one near by heard, "It might be best to interview the twenty men who took the place of the convicts in the cells."
"The twenty men are being detained in my home," said the warden. "I will take you to them."
Doc Savage, the warden and the newspapermen—and the newspaperwoman—made quite a string walking across the prison yard.
Doc asked, "Have you a list of the twenty missing convicts."
"Yes," said the warden.
"We need their pictures, finger prints, and a record of their crimes which caused them to be sent here."
"We'll stop in my office for the dope," the warden replied.
A moment later, Doc Savage's strange flake gold eyes were sifting the data. He had done this only a moment when a small, strange sound became audible—a trilling, tiny and fantastic, tracing up and down the musical scale without definite tune, vaguely remindful of a soft wind going through a denuded tropical forest.
This trilling was a small, peculiar thing which Doc Savage did in moments of intense mental activity. Usually it meant surprise; sometimes it marked advent of a proof which he had sought, and often it precoursed some definite plan of action. The bronze man did this unconsciously.
"Sounds like winter," remarked a reporter, not understanding that the exotic sound was not the wind.
Doc drew the attention of the warden to the records he had been inspecting.
"Did this rather peculiar fact come to your attention?" he asked.
THE warden came over and scrutinized the documents. He started shaking his head, then changed the movement to a sharp nod.
"I see it!" he exploded. "Each of the missing convicts claimed from the time of his conviction that he had been framed!"
"Partly that," Doc admitted. "But there is also another angle—"
A prison attendant came rushing up.
"They're gone!" he howled. "The twenty men who were in the cells are gone!"
"Of course they are!" snapped the warden. "But we'll get those convicts!"
"You don't understand!" gulped the attendant. "The twenty men who took the convicts' place in their cells have vanished!"
Chapter 4. PICTURE SHOT
THE warden blinked stupidly, spat on the concrete underfoot, and smeared the wet spot with his foot.
"If it ain't one thing—" He charged away. "Hell! They couldn't!"
They had. The twenty men had been confined in the warden's house, which was against one wall of the prison, not in the true confines of the institution, but inside the outer wall. No vicious prisoners were ever kept in this outer compound.
The twenty men had been convicted of no crime. It was, of course, strange that they had been found where they had. Nor had their story been any too believable.
The men had been confined to the warden's house under the eyes of two guards.
Both guards had been found senseless. Bars were ripped out of a window in the rear wall. Through this opening, the prisoners had departed.
Word went out to hunt for the twenty men.
They were not found. They had disappeared as completely as if gobbled up by the earth.
Reviving, the two guards explained vaguely that some one had spoken to one of the twenty men from outside the prison, but that the words had not been overheard. Nor had the speaker been seen closely.
One guard, however, believed that the twenty men had been given instructions, as a result of which they had unexpectedly set upon the guards, knocked them senseless, and made good their escape.
Doc Savage was more of an onlooker than a partaker in the excitement which followed the discovery of the escape. He requested and received a list of the names of the twenty men. He got also a set of photographs and finger prints of each man. Each of the twenty had been photographed, as a matter of course, when discovered occupying cells which had lately been tenanted by others.
Doc, after a time, resumed his inspection of the box car near where guard John Winer had been shot.
The young woman reporter had been keeping in the background, making herself inconspicuous. But she chanced to attract the attention of two newspapermen.
"Who is that dame?" one asked.
"Search me. But it strikes me we should know her, don't you think?"
"Let's get a chance and strike up a conversation."
"An idea."
THE two journalists began to maneuver for a position close to the young woman where they could make a remark and thus break into a conversation with her.
The other newspapermen gave a great deal of attention to what Doc Savage was doing as he went through the cell house. The bronze man's actions were puzzling to most of the scribes.
Doc had gotten a metal case from the car which had brought him. This held a number of devices, one of which was what looked as if it might be an ordinary hand spray.
Doc sprayed a film of chemical from this at various points over the cell house floor and on the locks and cell bars. The stuff seemed to harden instantly. He poured other chemicals onto the film, and these hardened, and he peeled the whole thing off. He put the sheets in the metal case.
"What's he doing?" a reporter wanted to know.
"The chemical is picking up microscopic evidence from the floor," explained a reporter who was familiar with such procedure. "He will analyze the stuff later and find out a lot."
Doc sprayed a different type of chemical on the lever which controlled the locks of the cell blocks. It caused the oily deposit left by human fingers to change color, and shortly he had brought out a set of varied finger prints. He examined these, and gave close attention, through a powerful magnifier, to certain smudges.
"The rescuer wore gloves," he decided.
At the guard tower, he found the magazine with the pages open to the story concerning himself. He drew the correct conclusions from this.