The Avenger 10 - The Smiling Dogs by Kenneth Robeson

Author:Kenneth Robeson [Robeson, Kenneth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0446741426
Publisher: Warner Books

Burnside, in The Avenger’s own hideout, was most accessible for questioning. So Benson went to his secretly held office suite with the windowless storage room so conveniently fixed as a bedroom.

But he did no questioning. For Burnside wasn’t accessible after all.

Benson opened the door, started to go into the first room of the suite, and stopped with his icy eyes taking on their crystalline glitter.

On the floor of this room lay Rosabel Newton. The pretty negress was deeply unconscious. The cause of the unconsciousness was plain enough: it was a deep welt on the side of her head where she had been slugged.

There was no sign of Josh. Nor was there any trace of Senator Burnside.

Both were gone! The Avenger went swiftly through the two rooms and the storage room, and found that out in a hurry.

Gone! But where? Why?

He went back to Rosabel. From his pocket, the pale-eyed man who was as eminent in the field of medicine as in all other fields, drew a small hypodermic case. The needle went deftly into Rosabel’s arm.

In two or three minutes Rosabel’s soft dark eyes opened. They rested on the white, dead face of The Avenger. She struggled up with a cry.

“Josh! Where’s Josh?”

It was typical of Rosabel. The first thought of Josh Newton was for her—always. And that went double for Rosabel.

“Josh isn’t here,” said Benson gently. “What happened? Why are he and Burnside gone?”

“Some men came.” Rosabel closed her eyes in pain and moaned a little. “They must have taken Josh out with them. And Senator Burnside, too. But they hit me when they first came in; so I can only guess.”

“Some men?” repeated Benson. “But how could they have located Burnside here?”

“He telephoned,” said Rosabel.

“Telephoned!” Benson’s pale eyes were steely chips. “Why on earth did he do that? He was hiding out. Didn’t it occur to him that there was a big chance of this place being discovered by his enemies if he went phoning all around Washington?”

“Josh and I tried to stop him,” said Rosabel. “But we’d have had to knock him down and tie him to keep him from it, he was so determined. And you hadn’t left any orders about it—”

“It’s not your fault,” Benson said, “but Burnside—he should have known better.”

He stepped to the phone. In a few seconds the exchange was tracing that call, spurred on by the magic name of Richard Henry Benson.

“He telephoned Congressman Coolie,” said the Avenger, after a moment. “Coolie is also from Montana, near Bison. And he is also interested in conservation projects, as Burnside himself is. How soon were you raided after the call?”

“Less than half an hour,” said Rosabel.

Benson’s pale eyes had been darting around the room. They rested now on a little white thing under a table. He went to it and picked it up.

The little white thing was half a handkerchief. In it were four pennies.

Four pennies and half a handkerchief. The Avenger’s pale eyes glittered. Josh had left these as a message.

“Get Mac and Smitty over here.

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