"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 139 - Weird Valley" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Ham Brooks laughed again.

The laugh caused the elderly duffer to turn to Ham and ask, “What's so funny, pretty-pants?”

Which got Ham's goat. Ham gave a great deal of attention to his clothes. During normal times he had
spent much effort pursuing the title of Best Dressed Man in New York City, and to win such a
distinction, you had to be distinctly high-class with your dressing. It was crude and jarring to be called
pretty-pants.

The old fellow looked at them. “Now you don't like me,” he complained.

“We don't like you or dislike you, because we don't know you,” Monk told him.

The old gentleman was becoming indignant.

“I come in here to be friends!” he said, his voice getting a little louder with each word. “And you get mad
at me right off the bat.”

“We're not mad,” Monk said, “but you're hot on your way to getting us mad.”

The old chap flapped his arms.

“Get mad!” he bellowed. “Get mad and insult me! Call me a liar! Go ahead, call me a liar! Tell me I'm
not two hundred and ninety years old!”



MONK said, “Oh, sit down and calm yourself. And if you've got any business around here, get it off
your mind.”

The old gentleman snorted loudly. He looked around and picked out a chair and planted himself in it.
“World gets more discourteous every time I come out for a look,” he said angrily.

Ham Brooks frowned at the ancient visitor. “What was that you said a minute ago about how old you
are. Did I misunderstand you?”

“Why should you misunderstand?” yelled the old fellow. “Your hearing is all right, ain't it?”

Monk jumped, recalling that the old fellow had said that he was two hundred and ninety years old.

“Just who are you?” Monk asked.

“Call me Methuselah. Methuselah Brown,” the old fellow said.

“And just what kind of a gag are you trying to pull on us?” Monk continued.

“There you go—call me a liar!” yelled Methuselah Brown.

“So you're two hundred ninety.”