"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 027 - The Secret in the Sky" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

automatically recorded the exact time of the message on a paper roll; then the apparatus stopped and set
itself for another call, should one come.

The time recorded was two minutes past twelve, noon.

Thirty minutes later, approximately, the newspaper press association wires hummed with the story of the
mysterious seizure of Willard Kipring Parker Spanner in San Francisco. Willard Kipring Parker Spanner
was a nabob, a somebody, a big shot. Anything unusual that happened to him was big news.

The newspapers did not know the half of it. The biggest was yet to come.

Financially, Willard Kipring Parker Spanner did not amount to much. A post-mortem examination of his
assets showed less than five thousand dollars, an insignificant sum for a man who was known over most
of the world.

Willard Kipring Parker Spanner called himself simply, “a guy who likes to fiddle around with
microscopes.” It was said that he knew as much about disease germs, and methods of combating them,
as any living man. He had won one Nobel prize. He was less than thirty years old. Scientists and
physicians who knew him considered him a genius.

When Willard Spanner was found dead, many a scientist and physician actually shed tears, realizing what
the world had lost.

When Willard Spanner was found dead, the newspapers began to have fits. And with good reason.

For Willard Spanner's body was found on a New York street—less than three hours after he had been
seized in San Francisco! Seized in Frisco at noon; Eastern Standard Time. Dead in New York at ten
minutes to three, Eastern Standard Time.



A NEWSBOY with a freckled face was first to convey the news to Doc Savage. The newsboy was also
cross-eyed. Neither the newsboy, nor his freckles, nor his crossed eyes had other connection with the
affair, except that the lad's reaction when he sighted Doc Savage was typical of the effect which the
bronze man had on people.

The boy's mouth went roundly open with a kind of amazement when he first saw the bronze giant; then,
as he sold the paper, his demeanor was awed and very near worshipful.

“I know you, mister,” he said in a small voice. “You're Doc Savage! I've seen your picture in the
newspapers!”

Doc Savage studied the boy as he paid for the paper. He seemed particularly interested in the crossed
eyes.

“Wear glasses?” He asked. He had a remarkable voice; it seemed filled with a great, controlled power.

“Sure,” said the newsboy, “They give me headaches.”
Doc Savage produced a small business card. The card was not white, but bronze, and the printing—his
name only was on it—was in a slightly darker bronze.