"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 001 - Man of Bronze" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

This looked like the head and shoulders of a man, sculptured in hard bronze. It was a startling sight, that
bronze bust. The lines of the features, the unusually high forehead, the mobile and muscular, but not
too-full mouth, the lean cheeks, denoted a power of character seldom seen.

The bronze of the hair was a little darker than the bronze of the features. The hair was straight, and lay
down tightly as a metal skullcap. A genius at sculpture might have made it.

Most marvelous of all were the eyes. They glittered like pools of flake gold when little lights from the
table lamp played on them. Even from that distance they seemed to exert a hypnotic influence through the
powerful binocular lenses, a quality that would cause the most rash individual to hesitate.

The man with the scarlet-tipped fingers shuddered.

"Death!" he croaked, as if seeking to overcome the unnerving quality of those strange, golden eyes. "The
Son of the Feathered Serpent has commanded. It shall be death!"

He opened the black box. Faint metallic clickings sounded as he fitted together parts of the thing it held.
After that, he ran his fingers lovingly over the object.

"The tool of the Son of the Feathered Serpent!" he chortled. "It shall deliver death!"

Once more, he pressed the binoculars to his eyes and focused them on the amazing bronze statue.

The bronze masterpiece opened its mouth, yawned—for it was no statue, but a living man!

THE bronze man showed wide, very strong-looking teeth, in yawning. Seated there by the immense
desk, he did not seem to be a large man. An onlooker would have doubted his six feet height—and
would have been astounded to learn he weighed every ounce of two hundred pounds.

The big bronze man was so well put together that the impression was not of size, but of power. The bulk
of his great body was forgotten in the smooth symmetry of a build incredibly powerful.

This man was Clark Savage, Jr.

Doc Savage! The man whose name was becoming a byword in the odd corners of the world!

Apparently no sound had entered the room. But the big bronze man left his chair. He went to the door.
The hand he opened the door with was long-fingered, supple. Yet its enormous tendons were like cables
under a thin film of bronze lacquer.

Doc Savage's keenness of hearing was vindicated. Five men were getting out of the elevator cage, which
had come up silently.

These men came toward Doc. There was wild delight in their manner. But for some sober reason, they
did not shout boisterous greetings. It was as though Doc bore a great grief, and they sympathized deeply
with him, but didn't know what to say.

The first of the five men was a giant who towered four inches over six feet. He weighed fully two fifty. His
face was severe, his mouth thin and grim, and compressed tightly, as though he had just finished uttering a
disapproving, "Tsk tsk!" sound. His features had a most puritanical look.