"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 015 - Mystery on the Snow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Mahal was an oily specimen. He had a head like an almond, and many fine white teeth. He claimed to be an
Oriental and, probably, he was. He also claimed to be a mystic. On that point, he was, beyond doubt, a liar.
But he had made a little money out of the gullible with his fakery.

The police had a time or two considered putting a detective to watching him. It was too bad they did not do
this. A sharp-eyed sleuth on Mahal’s trail might have made some interesting observations.

Mahal was careful to pick a clipping agency which did not inquire too carefully into the motives of its
customers.

"I am Mahal," he announced. "Yesterday I telephoned you for clippings concerning a certain individual. You
have them, sahib?"

Mahal spoke excellent English, but he affected occasionally a word of his mother tongue of the Orient. It lent
color to him.

He was handed an envelope, stuffed full with paper.

Mahal seemed surprised by the number of clippings the envelope obviously held. But he thrust the container
in the outside pocket of his immaculate brown topcoat, paid the rather exorbitant fee requested, and walked
out.

The clipping agency was on the seventeenth floor of an office building. Mahal took an elevator down.

In the elevator, a strange thing happened. There were numerous passengers aboard the car. Among these
was a stooped gentleman with a flowing white beard. His clothing was extremely well-cut. He seemed rather
feeble, for he leaned heavily on a plain black cane. He looked benign, peaceful.

The white-bearded gentleman’s cane slipped on the smooth floor of the elevator, and he stumbled heavily
against Mahal.

"
Burha bakra!" growled Mahal, and gave the elderly-looking one a shove.
Respect for age is one of the finer qualities of Orientals. But Mahal did not have it. He had called, in his
native tongue, the bearded fellow an old goat. He would have called him an old goat in English, but he
did not want trouble. He thought the white-whiskered one could not understand the Oriental words.

But he would have been surprised. For the benign old chap with the snowy beard had now the envelope
of clippings. He had slipped it expertly from Mahal’s pocket during the collision.


THE elevator reached the ground floor and discharged its passengers.

Mahal strode out to the street and glanced about for a taxi. He had not as yet missed the envelope.

The elderly-looking gentleman now showed surprising agility in scampering around behind a cigar stand. This
concealed him from the door.

The envelope was not sealed. He opened it, drew out the clippings. There were scores of them. Headlines on
the topmost read: