The Giggling Ghosts: A Doc Savage Adventure by Lester Dent (pseud. Kenneth Robeson)

Author:Lester Dent (pseud. Kenneth Robeson)
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: fiction, Doc Savage (Fictional character), adventure
Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada
Published: 1938-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter XII

THE RESCUED

Lawn might not have had the largest house in the country, but it was unlikely there were many houses with more dignity. Lawn’s house was as dignified as an art gallery; it also looked rather like an art gallery, being made of light-colored stone, and it was the shape of a long cube, with no ornate gimcracks or decorations. Everything was so simple and reserved.

The house sat alone on a grassy knob, and there were a few trees. A white gravel driveway wound from the house to a gate in a bleak stone wall. It all looked a little like Mount Vernon, Washington’s home, except that the house was more severe.

There was a gatehouse at the gate, and a gatekeeper.

Johnny pulled up before the gatehouse, stopping his rattletrap by some combination of which he alone was the master.

“An abode of attitudinarianism,” Johnny remarked.

Hart looked at Johnny. “Huh?”

“He means a showplace,” Long Tom translated.

“It would be easier for him to say so,” Hart muttered.

A gatekeeper came out of the gatehouse to frown disapprovingly at the old car.

“We wish to see Birmingham Lawn,” Johnny said.

The gatekeeper went back into the gatehouse and, judging from the sounds, he telephoned an inquiry about whether or not he should admit the visitors, because he put his head out the door to demand their names.

“Mr. Lawn will be glad to see you,” he announced then.

Johnny drove through the gate, along the winding gravel walk.

Johnny looked at Hart. “I thought you said the gang had Lawn prisoner.”

“They must’ve turned him loose,” Hart said.

“Humph!”

Hart made a growling noise and shoved his face almost against Johnny’s.

“You wouldn’t,” he grated, “be insinuating that I’m a liar!”

“You said Lawn was a prisoner. But he isn’t.”

Hart yelled, “I’ll take the hide off anybody who calls me a liar!”

Renny blocked out his two huge fists and shoved them under Hart’s nose.

“You see these?” Renny demanded.

Hart ogled the fists.

“Water buckets!” he muttered.

“They’re the buckets to pour water on that temper you’ve got!” Renny said.

There were no more verbal pyrotechnics. The car arrived before the impressive entrance of Lawn’s house, and stood shaking itself until Johnny turned off the motor. A butler in a resplendent uniform told them that Birmingham Lawn would see them in the library.

Lawn did not seem very enthusiastic about the visit. Lawn stood behind a large library table in a softly lighted study where there were many bookcases. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said.

Hart walked around the table and looked Lawn up and down.

“Last time I saw you,” Hart said, “you were tied up with ropes.”

Lawn looked uncomfortable and swallowed two or three times. He whistled a bar from a popular song.

“They turned me loose,” he explained.

“You saw Doc Savage—killed?” Johnny asked with an effort.

Lawn looked at the floor.

“I—yes, I saw it happen.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?” Johnny grated.

Lawn paled and sank into a chair. “I—well——”

Johnny came over, said, “Why didn’t you?” savagely.

Lawn seemed to shrink. “I—well, I was afraid. They said they would kill me!”

Hart sniffed. “They told me the same thing.

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