The Avenger 22 - The Black Death Read Online Free PDF

to join us in investigating the cause, I think it can be arranged. You can stay here if you please.”
    “Thank you very much,” said Marcy, getting up. He was all friendliness and gratitude. It was hard to remember that, a moment ago, he had flown at Benson’s throat in an effort to take his life.
    “Show Mr. Marcy to a suite,” Benson said expressionlessly to Josh.
    As he said it, the little finger of his left hand half curled as it hung naturally by his side. That meant: “Don’t let him out of here. Observe everything he does.”
    Marcy went cheerfully, politely out in the wake of Josh. The Avenger said to Cole, “Check on him.”
    With Wilson gone, Nellie said to their pale-eyed chief, “What in the world made him jump at you the minute he got in here?”
    “I think I know,” Rosabel said, her intelligent eyes going to the corner by the rear windows. “He looked around the room. When he saw the big television cabinet, his gaze stopped. Then he went berserk.”
    “That is right,” said Benson. “It was the sight of our special television set that made him attack.”
    “Oh-ho!” Nellie said. “Then he’s in with that devil gang and their mumbo-jumbo. He saw that we had a set capable of receiving their ritual, and he wanted to kill you and destroy it.”
    The Avenger didn’t answer. Nellie sighed. Then the television screen began to glow, indicating that someone in MacMurdie’s drugstore wanted to communicate with the Bleek Street headquarters.
    They went to the cabinet.
    MacMurdie’s homely face showed on the screen. His bleak blue eyes stared at them as if he were in the room. The sandy ropes of eyebrows over them were bunched a little in perplexity, and his lips opened.
    But no words came out. Just as they were about to come, Nellie and The Avenger heard a faint scream, from somewhere behind the pictured image. They got a glimpse of the back of Mac’s sandy-thatched head as he whirled to see what was wrong. Then the Scot was gone, and the screen glowed blank again.

    Mac was puttering around his laboratory behind the store part when Smitty entered with the black orchid. In front, tending the counters, was the clever, close-mouthed youngster Mac employed. The giant nodded to the boy and went into the rear laboratory, closing the heavy iron door that shut laboratory from story.
    Mac looked at the black orchid.
    “An exotic posy,” he commented. “One of yer many admirers sent it to ye, no doubt?”
    Smitty reddened. “It came from a dead man,” he growled. “The chief wants it analyzed to see if there’s any poison on it. Maybe this is the thing that caused death.”
    He brought Mac up to date on events, and the bony Scot whistled. “‘Tis queerrr enough,” he burred. “Well, let’s see if the posy can tell anythin’.”
    It was a pleasure to watch the man with the big feet and big, sail-like ears work. But in this case it was an empty pleasure.
    Mac, in a series of tests such as few men alive were capable of making, figuratively and literally tore apart the bloom with the blackish petals that shaded into gray-white down near the stem. And he found nothing murderous.
    “If ’tis poisoned,” said Mac, “then somethin’ has been used that evaporates without trace in a few hours. And I don’t believe there is such a poison.”
    “Then you exonerate the black orchid?” said Smitty.
    “Yes. Somethin’ else must have killed the mon—and turned him black. And I can’t guess what would have done that, either!”
    He went to the television cabinet to report to The Avenger. He switched it on, opened his mouth to begin—
    And then that scream sounded!
    Mac whirled from the cabinet. Again the scream came, faint but unmistakable through the iron door. It seemed to be laden with fear, with hopelessness. It was a ghostly, deathly scream.
    The giant Smitty was already leaping for the door. Mac jumped after him. Smitty got the door open.
    “Mr. MacMurdie! Mr. Smith!” the boy in the store