The Three Wild Men 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

AT the third stop, the man left the train. He walked casually down the street and entered a large chain drugstore. The business establishment had a side door, and Doc entered by that route. There was a group of telephone booths in the back, racks containing bargain books, the usual array of bargain counters and drug counters. A soda fountain, cigar stand and news rack were in the front.

The man was standing at the news rack, holding a magazine and again watching to see if he were followed.

Surmising the man's object in entering the drugstore, no doubt, was either to use the telephone or to get something in the line of an unguent for his burns, Doc sidled into one of the phone booths.

Doc took down a receiver, dialed the operator, asked for the wire chief, and said, “This is U-93, Department K. I am talking from"-he glanced at the number on the telephone-"Circle 0-7000. It is one of a battery of booths. Hook me up so I can eavesdrop on any conversation from any one of the other booths. Quick.”

“Yes, sir,” said the wire chief. “Just a moment.”

There was an interval of silence.

The man put down his magazine and sauntered back toward the telephone booths.

The wire chief came back on the wire. “Sorry, sir, but did you say you were U-93, Department K?”

“Yes.”

“Your credentials have been canceled,” said the wire chief. “Sorry, we cannot do anything for you.”

Doc Savage stared at the mouthpiece in blank astonishment. U-93, Department K, was his identification number with the department of justice. He had expected it to get its usual magical results. Canceled? Evidently, there was a mistake.

Mistake or not, there was no time to argue about it. The man was entering a booth. He was cautious and picked the farthest booth.

There was nothing to do but take a chance. Doc Savage took the booth adjoining the man, pulled the door shut, and decided that the other man, alarmed, was not making his call. Doc dialed at random, held the receiver down, said, “Let me speak to Alice. . . . Hello, Alice, this is Joe. How about tonight?”

He went on with the kind of conversation a young man might have with his girl.

Eventually, the man in the adjoining booth, his alarm gone, dialed his number.

Doc did not get the number from the dial clicks. He had performed this feat a number of times; it was not too difficult if one developed an ear for telegraphic clicks. But this time someone in the drugstore burst into loud laughter at the wrong time, and he lost out.

The man's voice was audible, however, by snatches. He made a fairly complete report on what had happened to him. He explained that the man in the hospital room had not been Hooten, but Doc Savage. He described, profanely, the business of the smoke. He was emphatic about his flight being cautious. No one had followed him, he insisted.

The man said, “Did the boys bring in that Monk Mayfair?”

Evidently the answer was in the affirmative, because the man said, “That's fine.

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