"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 107 - The Rustling Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth) THE RUSTLING DEATH
A Doc Savage Adventure by Kenneth Robeson This page copyright © 2002 Blackmask Online. http://www.blackmask.com ? Chapter I. A RUSTLING NOISE ? Chapter II. PLANS FOR DOC ? Chapter III. BEHIND THE INVENTOR ? Chapter IV. TRUFFLE HUNTER ? Chapter V. WARD HILLER LAUGHS ? Chapter VI. BOLT OF DEATH ? Chapter VII. KRAG’S WARNING ? Chapter VIII. INSTRUCTIONS ? Chapter IX. CONFESSION OF GUILT ? Chapter X. VANDERLEE APPEARS ? Chapter XI. STOCKHOLDERS IN DEATH ? Chapter XII. DEATH CHANGES HANDS ? Chapter XIII. HIDDEN TERROR! ? Chapter XIV. DOC DISAPPEARS ? Chapter XV. NEW PRISONERS ? Chapter XVI. BUSINESS BEFORE PLEASURE Scanned and Proofed by Tom Stephens Chapter I. A RUSTLING NOISE NO one realized that Doc Savage stumbled upon the rustling death quite by accident. Had that fact been known, some terror might have been avoided. Or at least delayed. The occurrence in the hotel lobby was really a coincidence. But the small man with the wise face apparently did not think so. He had bushy hair, bushy eyebrows, a long pointed nose that twitched, and small eyes. He stood, as if frozen, in the center of the lobby of one of Washington’s most fashionable hotels. An expression of fear was stamped on his pinched features. The newcomer at whom the pinch-faced man stared did not look like a fearsome creature. He was a tall, handsome man, dressed immaculately. He signed the register: "Theodore Marley Brooks, New York." Then he took the elevator to his rooms with the announced intention of dressing for dinner. A windy sigh escaped the lips of the pinch-faced man. He darted quickly to the desk. Before the clerk had a chance to turn the removable signature card around, he seized it with skinny hands and twisted the card so that he could read it. A ghastly, croaking sound crawled from his lips. The clerk was solicitous in a superior sort of manner. "Are you ill, Mr. Strang?" Strang croaked again. He strove to recover his poise. He darted toward a bank of phone booths. The clerk was still smiling in a superior fashion as the little |
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