"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 104 - Birds of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Benjamin Boot was impressed. If Doc Savage had an assistant the caliber of Ham Brooks—Brigadier
General Theodore Marley Brooks, his full title—the man himself must be extraordinary.

He said, "I want to see Mr. Savage about a mysterious thing that has happened. A business associate has
disappeared, and a young lady of whom I am . . . er . . . fond, who is also the associate’s daughter, has
become strangely terrified. On top of that, two men have just sought to kill me."

Ham examined Boot’s face thoughtfully. "That sounds urgent enough," he said.



DOC SAVAGE exceeded any of Benjamin Boot’s expectations. The name of Clark Savage, Jr., had
come vaguely to Boot’s attention several times in the past, but his actual knowledge of Doc Savage was
not extensive. He had heard that the man was a scientist, student, something of a mental wizard—and
had a unique hobby of righting wrongs and punishing evildoers in the far ends of the earth. Savage had a
name of being the man to go to when in trouble of such a nature that the police might be helpless for one
reason or another.

"Goodness!" said Benjamin Boot. "I didn’t expect a giant . . . er . . . I mean, how do you do, Mr.
Savage. My name is Boot—Benjamin Boot."

Doc Savage’s unusual features included remarkable flakegold eyes that were like tiny pools of the metal
always stirred by tiny winds. His size was huge, yet proportioned so that it was not apparent until one
came close. His skin was deeply bronzed, and his hair was straight, a bronze hue a little darker than his
skin. The total effect was almost that of a man made out of metal.

"Please be seated, Mr. Boot," he said.

Boot sat down. He held his hat in his hands. He said, rather embarrassed, "I—ah—your associates
passed me. I had heard of Mr. Brooks, the attorney. The other man—Mr. Monk Mayfair, I believe he
said his name was—was a stranger."

Doc Savage said, "Monk Mayfair is probably the most skilled industrial chemist in the world."
Two things about the remark astonished Benjamin Boot. First, the idea of a fellow as dumb-looking as
Monk being a famous chemist. And secondly, the rather amazing quality of control and vitality in the
bronze man’s voice.

"I’ll try not to waste your time," said Boot. "Is it all right if I start my story?"

"Proceed."

"I am Benjamin Boot, and I am a rather wealthy man, owning a number of enterprises. I am not saying I
am wealthy because I am proud of it. In fact, the contrary. I happen to be wealthy because I was born
into this world such a homely, stupid-looking fellow that there was nothing for me to do but devote my
time to making money. Girls would never have anything to do with me, and I have few men friends,
because they invariably make cracks about my looks, and I do not like that. So I’m a lonely man, and a
rich one. I love beautiful things. I spend much time in my greenhouses with my flowers, or in my aviaries
with my birds, or listening to fine music and admiring fine paintings."

Doc Savage nodded. His flake-gold eyes had traveled over Benjamin Boot completely, from head to