Part 17 (1/2)
The man doing the choking looked around. He had a tremendous beak of a nose which hooked down over his chin. He came to his feet with cat speed, his hand diving at his coat pocket.
But he never drew the gun. Bronze fingers, the grip of them bringing blind agony, trapped his wrists. The gunwas torn from his pocket.
It was a revolver with almost no barrel-a belly-buster.
The Hindu squirmed, gulping air.
Doc's golden eyes gazed intently. The moonlight was faint, yet he could tell that this man bore a startling resemblance to the man who had appeared in New York under the name of John Acre.
”John Acre?” Doc asked.
The man glared.
” Si, si! Who are you?”
”Clark Savage,” Doc told him.
Bueno!” grunted the man. He kneaded the wrist Doc had grasped.
”A John Acre perished when an earthquake sank a destroyer,” Doc said sharply.
The man smiled without humor. ”I was not aboard-I left her during the night. A trick, senor, to fool my enemies.”
”Why are you in Colon?” Doc asked.
John Acre spoke rapidly, precisely. He told of the series of mysterious murders by quakes in Chile. He described the attempt to summon Doc. His manner was surly, but his voice frank.
”The servants of this devilish Little White Brother are everywhere!” he finished. ”I decided to go to New York in person to get you.”
”You came north by plane?” Doc guessed. ”You had to, to reach Colon so soon. Antof.a.gasta is as far south as New York is north.”
Si, si!”
Speaking rapidly, Doc gave an outline of what had happened in New York.
”Can you clear the mystery about this other John Acre?” he ended.
”No, senor, I cannot understand it. You say he is dead?”
Doc Savage had a small habit of ignoring questions put by others. It a.s.serted itself now. Instead of answering, Doc indicated the moaning Hindu.
”What about him?” he asked.
John Acre said shortly: ”I saw him talking to one of my enemies-a big man with a great scar across his face, and two round holes for nostrils. I followed him. And I was merely choking him to induce a frame of mind favorable to questions.”
Doc trickled his flash beam over John Acre from head to foot, then clicked it out.
”I am the genuine John Acre!” a.s.serted the hawk-nosed man. ”You may doubt me. I saw in an Antof.a.gasta newspaper where a John Acre was slain in New York. I know nothing of that man. As headof the secret police, I have agents here in Colon. It was one of them who put me on the trail of the scar-faced man, Biff by name. Biff is clever. He evaded me. So I trailed the Hindu.”
THE Hindu got up at that instant and tried to run. He was in mid-air on his first jump, when steel bars seemed to enwrap his neck. He was jerked backward. He thought he saw a chance to hit the bronze giant who held him a terrific blow in the midriff. He did so.
Ha'e!” moaned the Hindu, and wrung his aching fist. It had been like hitting a stone.
John Acre leveled an arm at the brown fellow. ”This snake can lead us to our enemy!”
Doc shook the Hindu. ”How about it?”
Doha'e! Mercy!”
”Return my gun!” snarled John Acre. ”I'll give him mercy!”
The frightened Hindu eyed Doc pleadingly in the flash glare. ”Aye chahte ho! What do you want? Save me from this hawk of a man, and I will talk freely, sahib.”
Who hired you?” Doc demanded.
”A man with a scar across his face, sahib. He gave me two chemicals which I was to put in your gas tanks.
They would mix and cause-”
”Can you find the man who hired you?”
Han, sahib! Yes! I will take you to the man with the scarred face.”
”That is Biff,” said John Acre. ”His pard is named Velvet.”
Without delay, the three men moved away. A few minutes later, they trod gloomy streets which reeked with fruity smells of the tropics.
”Return my gun, please,” requested John Acre.
Doc seemed not to hear him.
The Hindu stopped suddenly. ”Ahiste chalo!” He pointed. ”Go slowly. Our destination is yonder.”
Doc Savage drew John Acre into the shadow of a wall. ”You'll guard the Hindu.”