Part 6 (1/2)
”When I was a kid,” she said, ”I took a stick and poked it in a hornets' nest.”
”There's smarter things to do,” old Tex Haven said.
”What we've done today,” his daughter told him, ”amounts to the same thing.”
”Eh?”
She told him what had happened. Her voice was disgusted when she explained that Horst had been clever enough to divine that they would attempt to involve Doc Savage. When she came to the appearance of Henry Peace, she crackled rage.
”The big red-headed hooligan,” she said, ”seemed to expect me to fall on his neck.”
”Can't blame him.”
”Well, I didn't care for his manner.”
”'Pears you're a mite prejudiced. Mind explainin' what was wrong with his manner?”
”He wanted to marry me.”
”That,” said old Tex Haven, ”sure don't prove he was crazy.”
”Yes, but he told me his intentions thirty seconds after he met me.”
”Reckon you never seen a sparrow after a bug,” Tex Haven said. ”A sparrow don't waste no time.”
”I'm the bug, eh?”
Tex Haven took his pipe out of his teeth, contemplated it, rubbed his jaw.
”Last you seed of Doc Savage's men, they was bein' run into the weeds by this Henry Peace?” he asked.
”Yes.”
”Likely as not, they'll start followin' Horst's men.”
”They're fools if they don't. Horst's men were going to kill them.”Old Tex Haven took a long, luxuriant drag of vile smoke out of his corncob pipe, released it to further befoul the air of the room, and smacked his lips.
”We came out all right, figures as if,” he said. ”We hankered for Doc Savage to take after Horst. He's after 'im.”
”His men are.”
”Same thing.”
”Which brings us around,” Rhoda Haven said grimly, ”to what we do next, whatever it is.”
Tex Haven went to the window shade and pulled it down. The bit of shark skin, which had been rolled up in the shade, fluttered out. He caught it.
”Jep Dee sent us this for a reason, strikes me,” he said. ”Jep Dee ain't the boy to do things without reason.”
His daughter took the piece of dry, freckled-looking hide and scrutinized it thoughtfully. She felt of it, held it up to the light, shook her head.
”Beats me,” she said.
There was a knock on the door.
Tex Haven blinked, muttered, ”Last time somebody knocked on the door, h.e.l.l broke loose.”
He hastily rolled the bit of freckled shark skin up inside the window shade.
Then he looked at his daughter.
”You positive,” he asked, ”that n.o.body could've followed you back from that place where they was gonna throw you in the cistern?”
”Positive,” Rhoda Haven said firmly.
The room was L-shaped. Old Tex Haven got at the angle of the L, stood there where his hands could get at his guns freely. He knew, from the construction of the hotel, that there was a steel beam at the angle of the L, which would stop bullets.
Rhoda Haven got out on the fire escape.
The knuckles banged the door again.
”Come in,” Tex Haven called.
Henry Peace brought his big, freckled grin into the room.
OLD Tex Haven was standing slack-shouldered and sleepy-his deadliest att.i.tude, incidentally. His long jaw sagged, his corncob fell out of his teeth, and one of his palms cupped instinctively and caught it.
”Drat it!” he said.
Henry Peace squinted at him. ”What's the idea? Ain't I welcome?”
Old Tex Haven swallowed, apparently could think of nothing to say.
”Where's my fiancee?” asked Henry Peace.
”Your what?”
”My future wife-your daughter,” Henry Peace explained.
Rhoda Haven came in from her hiding place, her heels tapping the floor angrily.”I'm getting tired of that wife stuff!” she snapped. ”The more I see of you, the less I can stomach you. In fact, you distinctly irritate me.”
”Them pains you feel,” Henry Peace a.s.sured her, ”are probably the sprouting of a great love.”
Rhoda Haven turned angrily to her father. Knowing old Tex as she did, she thought it might be a good idea to explain again that she felt that it was impossible for Henry Peace to have followed her here.
She said, ”This air-minded tramp couldn't-”