"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 016 - The King Maker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

The truth was that the gentleman in the topper was scared. He was in the grip of an awful terror.

This frightened, very-much-dressed-up personage stalked rapidly into the vast and ornate lobby of the cloud-piercing
building.

His town car waited. On its door was the coat-of-arms of the ruling house of the kingdom of Calbia, one of the Balkan
countries of Europe. Probably nobody in the crowd knew it, but the uniform of the chauffeur designated him as no less
than a general in the Calbian army.

Now there is something about ragged clothing and shabby attire that seems to label the wearer, the world over, as a
person of lowly station.

This was why those rubbering at the swanky car and the silk-hatted man paid little attention to the old woman who
entered the building at the same time.

She was very short, broad and stooped. There were wrinkles in her face, in which one could almost hide a lead pencil.
A shawl was tied over her head, knotted under her chin. A rent in the top permitted a glimpse of gray hair. Her dress
looked as if she had made it herself. Her shoes were shabby.

The man and the old woman—riches and rags, as it were—entered the same elevator.

“Call your floors,” said the elevator operator.

“Eighty-six,” came from the man in the silk hat.

“Eighty-six,” the old woman echoed, somewhat shrilly.

The two passengers looked at each other. There was nothing in their expressions to indicate that they had ever met
before.

“The eighty-sixth is Doc Savage's floor,” the elevator operator offered, apparently by way of information.

The cage shot upward and stopped. Both passengers stepped out into a plain, yet rich, corridor. It was evident, from
the way they looked around, that neither had ever been here before. They found their way to a door.

The door bore a name outlined in very small letters of bronze. They read:

DOC SAVAGE

Grasping the knob, the man in the silk topper tried to walk in. But the door was locked. He knocked with a brisk
impatience—and the door opened.

The gentleman in the silk hat made a mistake which later cost him his life. He elbowed into the room ahead of the old
lady. This act was anything but chivalrous.

So unusual was the appearance of the man who had opened the door, that both visitors jerked to a stop and stared.

The individual was little taller than a half-grown boy. He came near being as wide as he was high. His hands swung on
great beams of arms well below his knees, and they were covered with hairs which resembled rusty shingle nails. This
gorillalike fellow's face was phenomenally homely. He frowned at the gentleman in the silk topper, showing dislike of