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

"Just let go of that cannon!"



THE scrawny-necked man let his arm bend down, and the gun fell out of his hand.

Ham darted to the dropped revolver, scooped it up, and used it to gesture its discomfited owner inside the
room.

Monk’s pleasantly unlovely features were now wearing a smirk of supreme satisfaction.

"Boy, was my ventriloquism good!" he chortled. "If I had a stuffed doll to sit on my knee, I’d join a circus!"

The turkey-necked man and the attractive girl registered surprise. They stared at the door, as if loath to
believe that no one was there, and that the voice had merely been a ventriloquial effort on Monk’s part.

Then Monk proceeded to spoil everything. He reached for the leather document folder, which the girl still held.
She extended it toward him, as if glad to get rid of it.

What happened next gave the homely chemist one of the genuine shocks of his career.

The girl dropped the leather folder. And before Monk could stiffen, resist in any way, she had seized his arm
and the arm had become a lever by which he was yanked toward her, twisted, and sent spinning across the
room. It was beautiful jujutsu.

Monk’s bulk crashed Ham. The big revolver filled the room with noise, and its bullet dug plaster out of the
ceiling.

The girl had lost her hair. In the sudden exertion, the wig which she wore had been dislodged. The girl’s head
was absolutely bald.

She started forward, as if to seize the document case.

"No!" barked her companion. "The dude’ll use the gun before you can get it!"

The girl surrendered ideas of securing the case, spun, sprinted out of the room. Her companion followed, and
they made quite a clatter running down the corridor leading to the outside.



MONK and Ham were as tangled on the floor as a pair of quarreling octopuses. Their separation was delayed
somewhat by the tendency each displayed to be as rough with the other as possible. Finally they separated,
stood erect, and ran in pursuit of their two assailants.

"She was bald-headed," Monk gulped. "Notice that?"

Ham stared at Monk, and a quick succession of emotions swept his face—rage, utter scorn, superior
contempt. Then—most galling of all to Monk—derisive mirth. Ham emitted a roar of laughter.

"He flies through the air with the greatest of ease," he jeered. "When the lady his arm does seize—"