Part 3 (1/2)
Chapter IV.
THE gentlemen's room in Grand Central Railway Station was not doing much business.
”Put that key in your pocket, Henry,” Mr. Mayfair said. There was an expression of fierce joy and extreme suspicion of everybody on his apish face. He was enjoying this, if n.o.body else was. ”I'm gonna case the joint before we look in that locker. They might have a reception committee here for us.”
”They? Who do you mean?”
”The holder-uppers and the fat-man-shooters, or their siblings,” he replied ferociously. And he added, ”I hope! Them guys didn't give me a good chance at 'em.”
He was the most unlike a learned chemist of any I had known.
We had left Miss Farrar outside, naturally.Enroute, they had pumped the whole story out of me, all about Dido Alstrong's unexpected entry into my life after all these years, with a demand for a favor. They had been entertained, it seemed to me, by my att.i.tude toward Dido Alstrong, and once-much to my resentment-Mayfair had remarked, ”He sounds like a guy who knows where your push-b.u.t.tons are located, Henry.”
Mr. Mayfair, having skulked like a panther around the place, peering into booths in a most ungentlemanly fas.h.i.+on, returned.
”You're exaggerating this, Mr. Mayfair,” I suggested.
”Call me Monk, dammit,” he replied. ”And it takes a bigger liar than me to exaggerate a bullet.”
”Er-I dislike nicknames. But if you insist, I will endeavor-”
”Where's the key, Henry?” he interrupted. ”What's the locker number on it?”
”Forty-one,” I said, producing the key Dido Alstrong had entrusted to me.
Mr. Mayfair s.n.a.t.c.hed the s.h.i.+ny bit of metal from me, prowled down the line of grey steel lockers, found the correct one, inserted the key, and turned his head to say, ”Hold your hat, Henry. Maybe there's a nice bomb fixed up in here for you.”
A horrible thought. Not, in view of the other incidents, too unreasonable. ”Wait!” I gasped wildly. ”Wait!
Let me get away-”
He did not wait. He turned the key, whipped open the locker door, and peered inside. He must have noticed my look-my heart had temporarily stopped functioning-because suddenly he banged a hand against the lockers with a great crash and yelled, ”Boom!”
My reaction could not have been as funny as he seemed to think it was. Not possibly.
IT was a box. Or presumably so, because the outlines felt like a box, cardboard, inside the heavy covering of brown wrapping paper. I have, because of my scientific work, fallen into the habit of thinking of measurements in metric terms, and this box was about five decimeters in width, one hundred and fifty centimeters in depth, and slightly less than a meter in length. It's weight, judged roughly, was about seven kilograms.
”About the size,” Mr. Mayfair remarked, ”of one of them boxes the store puts your suit in when you buy one.”
”A bit heavier,” I suggested.
”Uh-huh. . . . Okay, Henry. Let's blow. And keep your eyes peeled.”
Miss Lila Farrar was waiting at a soda fountain, and a young gentleman had obviously been attempting to strike up an acquaintance with her. This fellow noticed me, and was not impressed, but then he saw Mr.
Mayfair, and he literally fled.
”Wolf?” Mr. Mayfair asked suspiciously.
”Junior grade only,” admitted Miss Farrar. ”So that's the package?”
Mr. Mayfair handed me the package and said grimly, ”You guard Henry and the package, honey. I'mgoing to follow junior grade wolf for a minute. I may test him for innocence.”
He departed. He made, undeniably, a formidable figure of a man of the more primitive sort.
Miss Farrar stared after him. ”Quite,” she announced, ”some guy.”
”An interesting type,” I admitted reluctantly.
”I would,” said Miss Farrar, ”like to meet his chief. I'll bet that would be something.”
”Chief?”
”Doc Savage.”
”Oh.”
”You knew Monk Mayfair is one of Doc Savage's a.s.sociates, didn't you, Henry?” she asked.
”I-ah-believe it was mentioned.”
”I'd sure like to meet Savage,” she declared. ”But there's a fat chance, I suppose. He's every maiden's dream, and I wouldn't have any such luck. My luck runs to characters like Dido.” She glanced at me as if to add, ”And you,” but she didn't.
She was starry-eyed about this Savage in a way that was revolting to me.
”I imagine,” I said coolly, ”that he's an ordinary sort.”
”What!” She stared at me. ”Do you know Savage?”
”I haven't troubled,” I said.
This was not strictly the truth. True, I hadn't met Doc Savage, but it was because there had been no opportunity for me to do so. I must confess that there had been a time when I had considered the man a legendary figure-his work in the fields of science was supposed to be astounding-but I had heard other tales about his possessing enormous physical strength, great energy, and being precipitated into one wild adventure after another. This ruined my illusions. Excitement repels me. I detest adventures. I had never permitted myself to have one-until today-and today's incidents were Dido Alstrong's fault, not mine. I had the impression now that Savage must be a very physical man, and I abhor physicality; I was sure the reports of his amazing scientific accomplishments must be rank exaggerations.
”Henry,” said Miss Lila Farrar thoughtfully. ”Are you wrong about everybody?”
”My judgment,” I a.s.sured her, ”is perfect.”
She whistled. At least her delightful mouth made a whistling shape. And we did not exchange words for a while. I spent the interval wis.h.i.+ng that she were more favorably impressed with me, or rather that her judgment of true worth in a man was more soundly developed.
”What?” she remarked presently, ”do you suppose King Kong has made happen to him?”
”You-er-mean Mr. Mayfair?”
”Yep. He should be back.”