Mad Eyes: A Doc Savage Adventure Read online

  “I believe you, Miss Davidson,” interrupted Ham. “You’ve got Doc all wrong, but I guess you think you’re telling the truth. Monk, put Miss Davidson in our car. I’m having a look around. She couldn’t have come here alone.”

  “I won’t go with you in any car!” snapped Jane Davidson.

  Sheets of rain whipped down on gusts of wind. The track inspector grinned a little.

  “Maybe I could give you a lift, miss,” he suggested.

  “On that thing?” said the girl, looking at the rain-swept gasoline engine. “I should say not!”

  Jane Davidson appeared to be an extremely contrary young woman. She suddenly changed her mind. And from the loose folds of her coat she produced a stubby-looking automatic.

  “All right!” she stated. “I’ll go with you in the car!”

  She walked along the tracks toward the highway crossing. Monk ambled beside her. Though the ugly chemist was worried about what might have happened to Doc, he was wearing a crooked grin.

  Monk liked young women with spirit.

  “Daggonit!” he said plaintively. “You don’t have to wave that pistol! We were on our way to meet Doc! We’ll take good care of you!”

  “You certainly will!” announced Jane Davidson grimly. “And if something’s gone wrong at the laboratories, I’m sure Doc Savage knows about it!”

  The track inspector’s one-lunged gasoline car chugged away. The railroad man was going to the nearest point where he could report the crossing smash. He acted as if he were glad to get away from the place and the company.

  Ham, meanwhile, climbed the steep bank above the railroad. He used his flashlight around the place where the girl had been tangled in the thorny bushes. The only evidence of her having been there was a scrap of her dress hanging on a branch.

  “It’s confounded crazy,” murmured Ham. “There are her tracks in the mud after Monk lifted her out, but there are none coming up. So she must have been thrown out of that car.”

  Ham saw Jane Davidson and Monk walk into the headlight beams of their own car still standing on the highway. At that instant, the lawyer became conscious of a peculiar note on the wind.

  The sound was like the wind had suddenly blown across taut, melodious strings. It was eerie, something like a tune, yet having no clear melody. It seemed to proceed from a point back of some near-by rocks.

  “Doc!” exclaimed Ham. “That sounds like him, and yet it isn’t exactly the same!”

  In moments of stress, danger or concentration, Doc Savage nearly always emitted a weird trilling. The sound was a part of the bronze giant.

  But something warned Ham to proceed with caution. The lawyer whipped a few yards toward the rocks in the darkness. As he moved, the smooth, black cane he carried separated. In his right hand played a gleaming, pointed sword blade.

  The sword cane was Ham’s favorite weapon. The point of the blade was covered with an anæsthetic drug. The lawyer needed only to touch an enemy to render him instantly unconscious.

  Ham slipped between two large rocks. The trilling sound had not been repeated. Rain slapped into the lawyer’s eyes. He could see only a few feet ahead. But by concentrating on one point, he was sure he had seen a shadow move.

  “Doc!” Ham called out softly. “You in there?”

  A husky, whispering laugh came from close behind Ham. Something like a human foot crunched on the rocks. The lawyer whipped around, bringing the sword blade into play.

  Ham was aware he had been tricked. He was surrounded by what seemed only swiftly moving shadows in the drenching rain. He thrust at one of these with his sword. To his astonishment, the keen-pointed blade passed directly through one of the shadows.

  The bright steel jammed into a rock. The blade snapped. Something made a hissing noise in the rain. Ham was forced to drop both his cane and the broken blade. A soft, hairy noose of some kind had dropped over his head and tightened around his throat.

  The noose cut off Ham’s breath. He attempted to let out a yell. Somehow, he got his fingers under the cord. But he could not free enough breath to utter a warning.

  Again there came a hoarse, whispering laugh. This was more like the wind than a human voice. A coarse, sacklike affair descended over Ham’s head. Kicking and threshing around, the lawyer was pulled to the ground.

  The inside of the sack had a sweetish smell. In a few seconds, Ham lay still.

  Monk looked up at the hill above the railroad. He could not see where Ham had disappeared. He called out several times.

  “Now I’ve got to go an’ find that daggoned dumb shyster,” growled Monk. “You get in the car an’ keep dry.”

  Jane Davidson started to climb into the car. She still held her stubby automatic. An unearthly squeal came from the car’s rear seat. It was followed by a coughing grunt of rage.

  “Good heavens!” exclaimed Jane Davidson. “I might have known there was some trick!”

  She backed hastily into Monk’s arms. The ferocious, small eyes of Chemistry, the tailless baboon, were shining at her, as well as those of Habeas Corpus.

  “They won’t hurt you,” assured Monk. “That’s Habeas Corpus, my pig, and Chemistry, Ham’s pet baboon.”

  For the first time, Jane Davidson seemed shaken.

  “I—I guess I’ll wait out here,” she said. “I’ve been in enough trouble to-night without mixing up with a menagerie.”

  Monk quieted Habeas Corpus. He dragged the pig out by one ear.

  “Now you’ll be all right,” he promised. “Come on, Chemistry, we’ve gotta find Ham.”

  Jane Davidson got into the car out of the rain. She kept a tight hold on the stubby pistol. Monk loped across the railroad toward the hill. Habeas Corpus did not seem to mind being toted by one long ear.

  The tailless baboon grumbled and grunted. But he followed. His ambling movement was not much different from that of Monk. The baboon had sense. He hunched ahead of Monk.

  In the rocks above the tracks, the baboon halted. He pounded his hairy breast and whined much like a human baby. Monk called Ham’s name, but got no reply.

  The tailless baboon had picked up some object. He was hitting a rock with it. There was a metallic sound. Monk used the powerful generator flashlight.

  Chemistry was whipping the hilted half of Ham’s broken sword blade against a rock. Monk found the remainder of the sword and the cane sheath.

  The big chemist whipped out the superfiring pistol which looked like a small drum with a tube sticking out of one side. He called and moved with infinite caution among the rocks.

  The stones showed no footprints. Monk attempted to use chemical tracing powder, but the rain had washed out possible marks.

  The chemist produced a small, flat box. When he moved a switch, nothing apparently happened. But in the invisible ray of black light emanating from this box some queer marks appeared on the hard ground.

  These looked like the prints of a man’s heels. They showed where Ham had come up the hill. Where he had stood between the rocks, the marks were all mixed up. They glowed with blue light.

  This was simply a substance contained in the spongy rubber heels of Ham’s shoes. It was one of several chemicals which fluoresced under the black light.

  “Howlin’ calamities!” squealed Monk. “Ham didn’t walk away from here!”

  This was apparent. The imprints of Ham’s heels ceased abruptly in the confusion of marks where the broken sword had been picked up.

  Monk loped back and forth among the rocks. The tailless baboon was even more excited. But from that one point in the rocks, Monk could find no trail.

  Perhaps Monk would have remained, searching all night. But from the highway below came the strident whine of a radio. The whine became two words.

  “Ham—Monk! Ham—Monk!”

  With a last, fruitless look around, Monk ran back down the hill. The baboon followed, pounding his breast and chattering.

  Jane Davidson was huddled miserably in the seat of the car when Monk returned.
br />   “The radio’s been calling you,” she said. “It couldn’t be possible, but I’m sure it’s Doc Savage’s voice.”

  The radio speaker under the dashboard of the car still whined out the call for Ham and Monk. It sounded like the voice of Doc Savage.

  Monk immediately tuned in with a reply.

  “Ham—Monk!” came the order. “You will proceed at once to the Spargrove Laboratories. Renny and Johnny will join us there.”

  Monk gave an O. K. to the summons. But his homely face was twisted like a crossword puzzle.

  “That couldn’t have been anybody but Doc,” he stated. “But you think Doc was with you in that smashed car. And now Ham has been grabbed!”

  “Ham has been seized?” said Jane Davidson. “I don’t believe it! And if that was Doc Savage on the radio, then he had some one else bring me out here and try to kill me on that crossing! I’ll bet Ham went away with whoever brought me out here!”

  Monk glared at the girl. The big chemist liked most pretty women. But Jane Davidson was plainly rubbing his fur the wrong way.

  “Doc!” said Monk over the radio. “Ham’s been grabbed out here! One of your cars——”

  Doc’s voice cut in on the other end of the broadcast.

  “I know all about the car. Ham will be all right. You will do as directed. Bring with you the young woman who was in the wreck at the crossing!”

  Monk let out a gasp. Jane Davidson spoke with a sneer.

  “So, your wonderful Doc Savage didn’t have anything to do with trying to kill me?” she jeered. “You’d better do as you’re told, and if you make one wrong move, I’ll be driving this car back alone!”

  Jane Davidson jabbed the stubby automatic emphatically into Monk’s ribs. Monk was too puzzled to even grunt.

  Chapter IV

  MISSING GLOBES

  As Monk headed his car reluctantly toward the Spargrove Laboratories, another small car was reaching the locked doors of the tomblike structure. From this small vehicle climbed an odd figure.

  The man was short of stature. He wore a shabby, hairy overcoat. The fuzzy hair of this coat seemed to continue where it touched his neck. The hair on the man’s head was thick and bushy.

  The man wore what once was known as a mutton-chop beard. This stuck out belligerently on both sides of his face. It made his face look smaller and runnier than it would have been. It was small and funny, anyway.

  The man’s little eyes jumped around under bushy brows. He came to the group around the small locked door of the Spargrove Laboratories.

  “What’s this? What’s this?” he sputtered. “Who called the police to interfere with my work? Where’s Jane? If you wanted in, why didn’t you get hold of John Corbin?”

  “Well! Well! Well!” gabbled Inspector Higgins. “Wasn’t you told this John Corbin went bugs an’ tried to bump an express train offa the track? An’ this infernal trap of yours murdered one of the railroad bulls, an’ you can’t be runnin’ any place that won’t open its doors when duly constituted authority wants to get in!”

  “John Corbin’s been killed?” said the hairy man. “I’m Professor Spargrove, of course. Well, why didn’t you have the young woman or Doc Savage let you in? They’re both inside.”

  “Yeah?” rasped Inspector Higgins, hopping around. “An’ what other crooked contraptions you got in there? Unlock this door before we get a few sticks of dynamite an’ blast hell out of it!”

  Despite the news about John Corbin’s sudden and untimely end, Professor Lanidus Spargrove had a will of his own.

  “I want to see John Corbin’s body,” he announced. “Then perhaps I will open the door, if Doc Savage consents.”

  “You’ll perhaps?” yelled Inspector Higgins. “If Doc Savage consents? I’m representin’ the law in this end of the county!”

  “Let me see John Corbin’s body,” said Professor Spargrove mildly. “I will then take up the matter of opening the door. I don’t believe I’d try dynamite if I were you, inspector. It is possible there are some elements in the building which might cause you inconvenience.”

  “Inconvenience?” shouted Inspector Higgins. “Two bumpoffs already, an’ this crooked dump all locked up, an’ you talk about inconvenience! What inconvenience, Professor Spargrove, if that’s your right name an’ not some alias?”

  Professor Spargrove was nervous and excited, but he still spoke calmly.

  “In other words, an attempt to blow those doors probably would set off an explosive that would make TNT seem like a penny firecracker,” he stated.

  A few of the railroad men were beginning to ease away from the spot. The mild deputy coroner spoke.

  “Whether it would blast this place or not, inspector, I don’t believe I’d try crossing up any property belonging to Doc Savage.”

  Inspector Higgins’s Adam’s apple jumped. Inspector Higgins hopped.

  The body of John Corbin had been covered with canvas. Professor Spargrove swept back the protective cloth with quick but gentle hands. The eyes under his bushy brows missing no detail of his dead watchman’s corpse.

  One hand rubbed across John Corbin’s cold forehead. Into the eyes of Professor Spargrove came a speculative gleam.

  “He was like this when the express hit him?” questioned Professor Spargrove.

  “Well, he was jumping around and fighting pink elephants or something,” volunteered a railroad brakeman.

  “Yes?” said Professor Spargrove slowly. “Coroner, have you removed anything from the body?”

  The mild deputy coroner bristled.

  “It is not my custom to disturb a corpse more than necessary!” he said.

  “Curious, most curious,” murmured Professor Spargrove. “So John Corbin was running away from something?”

  “That’s it! That’s it!” piped up Inspector Higgins. “An’ my men are bringin’ up half a case of powder! In about one minute I’m going into that crazy plant of yours!”

  Rain slashed across Professor Spargrove’s hairy face. The deputy coroner remarked that Doc Savage himself had examined the body of the watchman.

  “Then I think Doc Savage went away down the road in a blue sedan,” said the deputy coroner. “If there’s explosive inside, that Higgins will play the devil. He’s a stubborn guy.”

  Sticks of the yellow-wrapped dynamite were being piled in front of the small, chromium steel door. Inspector Higgins yapped at his men.

  “You’re being detained, Professor Spargrove!” he rapped out. “Just in case you’ve really got explosives contrary to duly constituted authority inside this joint!”

  Inspector Higgins had slashed one end of a stick of powder. In this he had stuffed an explosive cap.

  “You’re right, inspector,” stated Professor Spargrove. “We would be detained. Too much detained, in fact. So now——”

  The hands of the professor fumbled under his hairy coat. He was looking at the chromium steel door. The door swung silently open. A low passage appeared. It was lighted by a row of small incandescent bulbs.

  “My gosh!” grunted a railroad man. “The hairy guy just looked at it! An’ them cops have been buttin’ it with a railroad tie!”

  But something else was taking place. Professor Spargrove seemed to have lost his mind. He seemed to be talking into his own mutton-chop whiskers.

  “Spargrove speaking. Is it all right, Doc, to permit the police to enter?”

  Out of the rainy air came a voice. It might have been an emanation from the hairs of Professor Spargrove’s beard. It was a compact radio set attached to his body.

  “Let the authorities investigate in your own judgment.”

  “Come in, Inspector Higgins, and you other gentlemen,” invited Professor Spargrove. “I will find my assistant. Undoubtedly she is informed of what has taken place. You will do well to remain in this main room. I will not be responsible for trouble if any one enters other compartments.”

  The interior of the Spargrove Laboratories appeared to be of cellular construction.
One central room seemed to be the assembling compartment for several types of ponderous machinery.

  Professor Spargrove directed the body of John Corbin be brought into the main room. He spoke to Inspector Higgins.

  “You say my watchman is reported to have seen various strange things which caused those who observed him to believe him suffering from liquor or hallucinations?”

  “Well! Well! Well!” grunted Inspector Higgins. “There ain’t any doubt but what he had the D. T.’s or somethin’! He was seein’ things that wasn’t there!”

  At this moment Professor Spargrove himself looked a bit off.

  “John Corbin really saw those things,” he said quietly. “Only I didn’t know my assistant knew of the secret. I shall have to inquire into this. You will please wait here.”

  Professor Spargrove whisked himself through a small inner door. Like those outside, this seemed to open as he looked at it. In less than ten seconds, Professor Spargrove leaped back into view. For the first time, he appeared greatly excited.

  He opened another door and shouted. “Jane Jane! Where are you? Come here at once!”

  Professor Spargrove was running from one small room to another. He dashed back into the central chamber. This time, all his calmness had departed.

  “My whole life’s work—all gone!” he yelled. “I tell you, it’s impossible! All of it’s gone! Jane! Jane! Why didn’t Doc Savage stop them?”

  Inspector Higgins imposed a hard hand on one of the excited professor’s shoulders. This copper was not so dumb. He knew the time to break a case was when he had the other fellow somewhat out of his head.

  “All right! All right!” snapped Inspector Higgins. “So your whole life’s work is gone, is it? What’s gone?”

  Professor Spargrove led the way through a small door. Here was another large room. Along one side was a loading platform. Switch tracks penetrated all of the vaultlike building.