"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 173 - Once Over Lightly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

impressed by anything!” she snapped. “Doc Savage has a reputation. Some people are scared stiff when
they as much as hear of him. Why by just appearing here, he—”

She bit it off.

She had almost said something, then hadn't. She had nearly said that Doc Savage, by appearing here at
the odd hotel, had caused something. Then she had caught herself, and hadn't said what. That was what
she'd done. It was as clear as the nose on an anteater. But I did a delayed take on it—delayed about half
an hour. At the moment, I didn't even notice that she'd almost said something. All my wheels weren't
turning.

I said, “The great Doc Savage is a thin trickle as far as I'm concerned.” We were still standing over the
safe deposit box and I pointed at it. “That letter is addressed to you. Are you going to open it?”
Glacia opened the envelope that had been in Uncle Waldo's box, and writing on the one sheet of paper
that was in it said:

My dear niece:

Feeling that death by violence may possibly come my way, I am penning these few words with the
intention that they constitute my last will and testament.

I bequeath to you, Glacia Mae Loring, all my worldly property including Keeper. I ask you to take
good care of Keeper. In case Keeper is not in your hands by the time you read this, I direct you to
contact my attorney, C. V. McBride, Lathrop Bldg., Phone Cay 3-3101, Los Angeles, California,
and have Keeper delivered to you.

(Signed) Waldo D. Loring.

(Witnessed) E. P. Cook.

(Witnessed) Royalton Dvorak.

This was dated two days previously.

“Is that a will?” Glacia asked blankly.

“It says so, and probably is,” I told her. “What is this inheritance of yours?”

“Keeper?” Glacia stared at me foolishly. “I don't know what Keeper is. I haven't any idea.”

“Oh, all right,” I said wearily.

She seemed to think she had been called a liar, and said sharply, “I really don't! It might be—oh, I don't
know what. I haven't any idea.”

“A profound mystery, eh?”

“Oh, stop acting as if I was pulling the legs off flies! What's got into you, anyway?”

I told her what was wrong. “I'm just getting a little tired of going in here and coming out there. With the