17

him any lies, it was an accident due to ex-zanine with an assistant hotel manager citement.

throwing ice-water in my face.”

He said: “So you don’t know what it’s “And you do not know where Gross all about?”

went?”

“That’s right.”

“Nobody seems to know.”

“You have nothing on me,” he said. “I Doc Savage asked, “Did you see what don’t know either.”

happened in the sky?”

“Sky?” Monk shook his head carefully.

“All I saw was stars—from the blackjack.”

HE opened the elevator door, and we “Did you ever hear of a Mr. Spatny?”

stepped out into the lobby. He laid a hand on Doc Savage inquired.

my elbow, about as gently as a blacksmith’s “Who?”

vise, and guided me across the lobby. Then “Never mind,” Doc Savage said.

we stopped.

“Monk!” he said.

The fellow who had followed Albert THE assistant hotel managers were Gross out of the banquet room upstairs, the fluttering around us now, looking as if they short and wide man who looked like an ape, would have liked to wring their hands, and was sitting in a lobby chair. He seemed a introducing a Mr. Casey, the house detective.

little battered. He had a thumb stuck in his Casey fitted the picture of a house man, five mouth, feeling to learn how many teeth he feet seven and tapered at both ends like a had left.

seal. He was no help.

“Doc,” he said. “I must be losing my Doc Savage spoke briefly to Monk manhood.”

Mayfair in a language I did not understand.

The bronze man said nothing.

Evidently the bronze man had suggested that “Or that Gross guy is specially tough,”

it would be more private in his car parked in Monk added.

the street, because that was where we went.

“I could have told you that,” I said.

The automobile, a large sedan and not Doc Savage introduced me to the ba-a new model, had an unusually solid quality boon. “This is Monk Mayfair, a friend and that I noticed when I was boosted in. I looked associate of mine.”

at one of the windows where it came up Monk pointed a finger at me. “The through the body, and it was more than an waiter!” He had a big finger, attached to a inch thick.

hand that was also large and covered with “Is this thing armored?” I asked.

almost as many bristles as a toothbrush.

“That’s one of your lesser worries, “The nosey waiter. What does he know about bud,” Monk Mayfair said.

this?”

They got in, one on either side of me, “He has a funny story,” Doc Savage and the car door sounded like the door of a said.

bank vault when it closed. Doc Savage “It better not be too funny.”

flicked a switch, presently a radio speaker “What happened to you?”

was hissing, and Savage said into a micro-

“Gross somehow got the idea I was fol-phone: “Police radio from Special 243.” They lowing him, which I was,” Monk explained. “I answered him. He gave the police a specific got in the elevator with him. I acted as inno-description of Miss Fenisong, Albert Gross, cent as anything, and while I was doing that, Alec McGraff and J. B. C. McCutcheon. It he hit me between the eyes. It felt like he was a wonderful description; I could almost used an anvil. I guess it was a blackjack. Did see them from his words. He said: “I dislike you know a man could be knocked sillier than making extra work for somebody, but I would a coon by getting hit between the eyes with a certainly appreciate a rundown on the name blackjack?”

of Spatny. Probably a man. I have nothing “Where did Gross go?”

but the name, but I’d like it checked against Monk said bitterly, “The guy had his anything you might have.”

nerve. He told the elevator operator, who “Don’t worry about making extra work, hadn’t seen me get hit, that I just gave a Mr. Savage,” the cop’s voice said. “We’ll get jump and keeled over. When I woke up, I the stuff for you. What do we do with the was in a nice comfortable chair on the mez-other four if we pick them up?”