"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 150 - The Wee Ones" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

outfit for one woman. A young woman. Slippers, hose, panties, garter belt, brassiere, and a beige dress
in a sculptured model. All just piled there. But not arranged as if they had been casually dropped there.
Not quite.

The scarf, John Fain thought . . .

The scarf was missing.

At the south end of the room, the window was down from the top, and the haze was gradually drifting
outdoors. The stuff was clearing out of the laboratory. The apparatus was making noise. The generators,
two of them, were whining, and a condenser was leaking now and then with a popping sound, and tubes
were humming.

Fain shook his head violently. “Nuts,” he said.

It didn't do much good. He didn't fool himself.



THE dog was still barking. He sounded excited, but puzzled, too.

Fain discovered the hole in the window screen. Slashing hadn't made the hole in the screen. Actually,
there was not a hole in the screen; the screen wire had been loosened by prying away the moulding, or
forcing it outward by a blow, then bending up the loosened corner of the screen wire. The opening thus
made was about large enough to pass a man's two fists held close together.

Fain put his hands in his coat pockets. He could feel them shaking there, actually knocking against his
ribs.

“Lys!” he called.

The name burst out of his throat, jumped past the constriction there, loud enough to be a shout. But it got
no answer.

“Miss Smith!” he tried again.

He did better, a little, that time, but it drew no response. Fain shut down the apparatus, threw switches
and pulled plugs. He did this more from habit than from conscious thought, because he had spent most of
his life working in a laboratory, It was the same sort of a gesture a motorist makes in switching off his
engine after he has had an accident.

“What the hell kind of a gag is this?” he demanded loudly.

The silence, for that was all there was now, made the nap of his neck creep.

Gag. Sure, a gag. He began telling himself that was what it was, because he wanted to believe that was it.
A gag. Couldn't be anything else.

He went over to look at the hole in the window screen. He had to make himself go, and he didn't like
that. He examined the window sill, and there was a little dust there, he saw. The laboratory didn't get a