"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 039 - The Seven Agate Devils" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Came the rescue. It was not exactly in the proverbial nick of time. It had been necessary for the dramatics to
reach this crucial point before the thing could be executed properly.

Doc Savage was inside the garage, behind one of the pillars. And it was necessary for the car to come
abreast before he could act without being discovered. He moved now, his form a bronze blur as he leaped.

Both feet thumped the forward edge of the front wheel on the left side. The impact knocked both front wheels
almost as far to the right as they would go, steering wheel spinning in the hands of the man who held it.

Rubber screamed. The car swerved. It hit the front of the garage, the doors. The crash, the yells of the men
inside, made explosive bedlam. The garage doors were fragile, and the car went on through into the loading
areaway.

The driver could think fast. He straightened the wheel frantically, and skidded into the alley. Down came his
foot on the accelerator, and the machine made much noise and departed rapidly.

Doc Savage ran to the town car Monk had parked. But the keys were not in it. Monk had taken the keys, had
lost them sometime during the skirmish.

The two would-be killers and their car were gone before pursuit could be organized.



DOC SAVAGE came back to the pillar where Monk and his fellow victim were roped. Ham was unwinding the
still-dazed chemist.

"What happened, Monk?" the lawyer asked.

"Saw a guy actin’ funny," Monk growled. "I followed him, and him and his pals got me."

"So I see," Ham said, dryly.

"The two guys were fixin’ to kill this fellow here," Monk said, ignoring the sarcasm. "They must have thought I
was wise, and wanted to get me out of the way."

Doc Savage’s metallic fingers were plucking at the lashings which upheld the baggy-suited, gray-haired man
beside Monk. The cords were half-inch cotton rope, and the knots were very difficult to untie. Doc Savage
simply broke them, his cabled bronze hands accomplishing this somewhat amazing feat without much
apparent difficulty.

Doc held the limp form erect. An ominous blue swelling showed back of the senseless man’s left ear. His
eyelids began to flutter. The unconscious man’s face was pinch-lipped, angular. But the startling thing about
him was his skin; it was surprisingly youthful, almost boyish. Yet his rumpled thatch of graying hair went with
advanced years. His eyes were still glazed, but his lips began moving.

"Whereas, the parties of the first part and second part, having with malicious intent—" The man’s dazed,
mumbling words became unintelligible.

Monk said, "Sounds like shyster lingo to me."