Doc Savage: Phantom Lagoon (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Savage for weeks. We think she—well, her head is so full of wild stories we’re not sure what she was going to tell him. Anyway, she up and ran away and this is naturally the first place we thought to look.”
    “Ain’t seen her,” Monk repeated. The apish chemist then addressed the man in the rust-hued overcoat who kept his handkerchief before his face at all times.
    “What about you,” he asked. “Cat got your tongue?”
    “Hab a code,” the man said thickly.
    “Yeah, it sounds like you got yourself a whopper of a cold,” Monk agreed.
    Ham inserted, “Would you gentlemen care to identify yourselves?”
    “We would not,” said the nondescript one. “This is a family matter. Confidential, you understand?”
    “Perfectly,” drawled Ham.
    Monk and Ham regarded the duo, patience written on their faces. The odd pair seemed reluctant to leave.
    Finally, the short one said, “Well, if you’re sure our sister never showed up….”
    “Absolutely positive,” returned Ham crisply.
    “In that case, we’ll be on our way.”
    “Sorry we can’t help,” said Monk.
    “Good luck with your search,” added Ham, stepping aside to allow them to pass.
    The two men then departed in sullen silence. At no point did the tall one allow his features to be viewed clearly. After the door had closed, Monk asked of Ham, “Whatcha make of their story, shyster?”
    The dapper lawyer shrugged. “It sounded like a story.”
    “But it could be true,” Monk suggested contrarily.
    “It might,” allowed Ham.
    THEY consulted Doc Savage in his eighty-sixth floor laboratory.
    The bronze man took in all they had to say in absorbed silence. Then he announced, “It would have been better had you trailed those two rather than stopped to consult with me.”
    The remark was not offered as criticism. Merely as an observation. No tone of recrimination touched Doc’s well-modulated tones. Still, Monk and Ham looked instantly crestfallen. Ham twisted his elegant cane in both hands until his knuckles turned white.
    “Should we give chase?” he asked.
    The bronze man shook his head. “My experiment is too important for me to abandon it without sound reason. The girl did not appear to be in trouble, if her appeal can be believed.”
    “Gotcha, Doc,” said Monk. “We’ll skip it.”
    “If this matter is important, we will hear of Hornetta Hale again,” Doc said, then turned his attention back to the experiment he was conducting.
    Seeing that their leader was immersed in his work, Monk and Ham silently withdrew to the library.
    “For my part,” sniffed Ham Brooks, looking at the ruin that was his garments, “I would just as soon forget that woman ever darkened our door.”
    “Same here,” muttered Monk in rare agreement with his arch-nemesis.

Chapter IV
    THE JAM
    THE NAME OF of Hornetta Hale was not an easy one to forget.
    True, that was not her real name. A newspaper journalist had hung the appellation on her back in the days when she dominated the headlines. That had been several years ago. She was not exactly forgotten these days. Adventuresses of Hornetta Hale’s stripe are hardly ever forgotten. But her luster had dimmed since the short-lived era during which she and her smart racing job of a seaplane had buzzed the world.
    She had been Henrietta Hale then. Which was supposed to make her pretty extraordinary. She had done so much that sometimes she felt old at twenty-nine—people generally believed she was older than that, yet she looked younger. She was a stunningly pretty girl, just a little regal. Most men were scared of her, the average male preferring to wear the chest hair in his family. After an average male heard about the time the Tugeri headhunters of the Dutch East Indies besieged Hornetta Hale for six days, he was apt to crawl away.
    It had been profitable, this freelance adventuring for pay. It had been a calculated and planned business. The idea had occurred to her after she got what she considered a lucky