The Secret in the Sky by Kenneth Robeson;Lester Dent

Author:Kenneth Robeson;Lester Dent
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Blackmask Online
Published: 2001-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter IX. MURDER SPREE

THE piping bleat—Quince Randweil had emitted it—had been loud enough to carry to Monk, Ham, and Nock Spanner, and they came up, running on their toes for greater silence.

“Ah, the two gentlemen of mystery,” Ham said dryly.

“They were watching the road,” Doc told him.

Doc Savage had not induced the remarkable paralytic state which he could administer by pressure upon certain spinal nerve centers, so Quince Randweil and Leases Moore soon revived enough to speak. They behaved in a manner somewhat unexpected.

"Boy, I'm glad to see you!” said Leases Moore, who had put false teeth in his mouth and now did not look unhandsome.

“You said it!” echoed Quince Randweil, making it sound like “shedd.”

"Oh,” Monk leered fearsomely, “so now you're glad to see us! Yes, you are!”

“Truly we are,” lisped Quince Randweil.

“And why in blue blazes shouldn't we be?” Leases Moore demanded sourly. “We made a bad move and we know it now.”

“I see.” Monk made his leer more impressive. “An explanation for everything, I bet.”

“Nuts!” said Leases Moore, and began to look mad.

“Now, now!” Quince Randweil lisped excitedly and made admonishing gestures. “It will not do good to get all bothered. Of course you gentlemen are aggravated with us!”

“That's a mild word for it,” Monk told him.

Randweil lisped on as if he had not heard, saying, “It was our rugged individualism which made us act as we did. Yes, our rugged individualism.”

Individualism was a strange sound the way he said it. He made it, “inniwissilissim.”

He continued, “You see, we were mad. Very mad. We had heard that our enemies were coming to San Francisco, to this house at 6932 Fantan Road. We overheard that. So, being very mad and wanting to get even, we came out here. But we have not been having such good luck.”

Monk said, “It's a good thing lightning don't strike liars.”

“You don't believe it?” Randweil sounded hurt.

“Sure I do,” Monk replied, as sarcastically as possible.

Randweil looked at Doc Savage. “Do you believe me?”

Doc Savage asked, “By now, have you any idea of what is behind all of this—the murder of Willard Spanner, the queer streaks in the sky, and the rest?”

“Not an idea,” declared Randweil.

“And that's the truth,” echoed Leases Moore, rubbing the knob which was his missing thumb.

“Of course,” Monk agreed, more sarcastically than before.

Leases Moore yelled, “It is, and all of you can go chase yourselves! I'm not a guy you can horse around!”

Monk looked at Doc hopefully. “Shall I do some of my exercises on this guy?”

Doc replied nothing.

Monk registered cheerfulness, told Leases Moore, “There'll be more than your thumb and teeth missing when I get through with you.”

“Hold it,” Doc said, “while I look around a bit.”

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