"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 074 - World's Fair Goblin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

spiraled up under the base of the massive ball of steel.

When Professor Uppercue next was seen, he was streaking along this ramp.
He now seemed hardly able to run. He was an elderly man, unused to much physical activity, and the
wild running already had him near exhaustion. Once he banked into the side banister of the rising ramp,
but he kept going. He was headed for the point where the elevated structure entered one side of the
towering Trylon.

The Fair police—the Fair cops wore neat uniforms similar to the New York State troopers—and
members of the crowd now set out in pursuit of Professor Uppercue. The crazed scientist—and the
impression that everyone now held was that the scientist was insane—had a head start.

A number of people distinctly saw Professor Uppercue disappear into the Trylon.

A few moments later the police and more fleet-footed members of the crowd arrived at the Trylon.
Everyone was wheezing from the terrific race up the incline. Puffing pursuers crowded into the Trylon.

There was gloom about them, strange modernistic semitwilight. Stretching upward until it disappeared in
the needle point several hundred feet above their heads, was the silent network of steel girders which
supported the great Trylon. The spot where the pursuers stood was a platform built approximately a
hundred feet above the spire’s three-sided base.

"Where’d he go?" a man yelled.

They had all become aware of a strange sound—noise as if several carpenters had gone to work
simultaneously sawing boards.

"Where’d he go!"
The words literally crashed back at them. Everyone jumped, shocked by the increased volume, the
impact of the sound.
"Great grief!" a man muttered. "Some echoes."

The sound illusion of carpenters sawing wood, they realized now, was the noise of their own breathing
that had traveled upward into the space, and sounded back greatly magnified by the unusual acoustics of
the Trylon.

A cop explained, "It’s the way the place is built, I guess. But where’d that nut go to?"

"Search me!" grumbled another cop.

They did not search him, but they did search the Trylon—those parts of it where it seemed conceivable
that a man might be hidden—and then went over the surrounding grounds.

There was no trace of Professor Martin Uppercue or his aluminumlike cylinder.



THEN the goblin walked.

It happened not over fifteen minutes later. Immediately surrounding the Theme Center of the Fair—the