Part 22 (1/2)
There was nothing in Doc's metallic features to hint at the ugly shock the words gave him.
The hawk-nosed man shrugged. ”They told me to stay here and tell Dido Galligan what had happened-if they didn't see Galligan downstairs.”
”Dido was not here when the second phone call came?”
”No.” The hard mouth made a fierce, small smile under the beak of a nose. ”He left a few minutes before that.”
”Why?”
John Acre hesitated meaningly, then said: ”He gave no reason.”
Tip Galligan vented a hissing sound of angry disgust.
”You're trying to insinuate that my brother had something to do with that fake call!” she snapped.
The chief of the secret police spread his hands. ”Senorita, I am merely telling the truth.”
”Tell it, then!” Tip gritted. ”And let others draw their own conclusions!”
After this outburst, the young woman looked around. Apparently her intention was to a.s.sure Doc that her brother could not be guilty of any spurious phone calls. Instead, she stared in surprise.
Unnoticed, the bronze man had quitted the hotel room.
Chapter XVI. A GATHERING SINISTER.
IN the street in front of the Taberna Frio, a Chilean gentleman started slightly when a metallic Hercules of a man materialized before him with a suddenness that made him think of striking lightning.
”The running Yankees,” asked this giant, ”which way'd they go?”
The Chilean pointed. He opened his mouth to give directions, then closed it. His gesture had been enough-the mighty man of metal was gone; already he was a score of yards distant.
Doc Savage traveled swiftly for a hundred paces before he asked another Antof.a.gastan the course taken by five excited Yankees. In this fas.h.i.+on, Doc trailed his five aids the equivalent of half a dozen blocks. Then thetrail came to its ugly end.
Dios mio!” exclaimed a questioned man. ”They ran no farther than this point.”
”Ran no farther?” Doc echoed.
Si, si! A large covered truck pulled up to them and kindly gave them a lift. The Yankees did not seem very grateful, but they got in.”
A tiny storm seemed to hit the flake-gold pools that were the bronze giant's eyes. He asked: ”Is it not possible that men pointed guns at them from inside the truck and forced them in?”
En verdad!” gasped the informant. ”Perhaps that is why the five Yankees were so reluctant to accept the truck ride!”
For twenty minutes, Doc tried to trace the truck. It was a hopeless task. In the excitement of the night, no one had noticed it.
Returning to the Taberna Frio, the bronze man located the desk clerk. ”Did the five Yankees who left so hastily leave papers in your safe just before they departed?”
The clerk nodded, went to the safe, and came back with a bulky envelope.
”This is it, senor.”
The envelope bore no name.
”Do you deliver articles from your safe to whoever calls for them?” Doc asked sharply.
”No,” said the clerk. ”This envelope was left here for you. I was told specifically to hand it only to you.”
Doc's golden eyes remained fixed on the clerk. ”You still have that other package of mine in the safe, haven't you?”
The parcel to which Doc referred was the one containing the wax cylinders which bore the recordings taken in the New York warehouse-hangar-at the supposed murder of the first John Acre.
”It is still there,” the clerk declared.
”Be very sure to surrender that to no one but me,” Doc ordered.
”Si, si.”
The bronze man now opened the envelope, spilling out the contents. There were several graphs on which were wavy inked lines, and half a dozen sheets bearing columns of meter readings. Some of these were records from instruments planted in the earth by Johnny, the gaunt geologist. Most of these were seismographic devices.
A man who had proper training along such lines could study the records and secure an accurate idea of what had happened far beneath the earth during the quake.
The other papers were records of meters which Long Tom, the electrical wizard, had attached to the local electric-lighting circuits and high-tension lines. These registered not only volt and current pull, butalso such fine details as alterations in the magnetic fields surrounding the conveyors.
Just how satisfactory Doc found these results of work done by his a.s.sistants was shown, not on the bronze features, but by another sign-one peculiar to this remarkable bronze man of metal.
For a brief moment, Doc's low, mellow, trilling note was audible. The hotel clerk was looking directly at Doc's lips as the sound came. Yet the fellow, not realizing from whence it emanated, peered about curiously.
Doc slipped the papers back in the bulky envelope. He gave them to the clerk.
”Lock these with the package,” he said. ”And watch them closely. They are very, very important.”
Pretty Tip Galligan, a strange figure in her gold evening gown, with the bottom torn off, and with the gaudily colored poncho about her shoulders, appeared at the head of the lobby stairway.
”Mr. Savage!” she cried excitedly. ”John Acre has disappeared.”
DOC SAVAGE raced to the young woman's side.
”When?” he demanded.
”At least five minutes ago,” she explained. ”He stepped into the other room. I thought he had a strange expression on his face. I waited a couple of minutes, then I looked. He was gone! Since then, I've been waiting for you to come back.”