Read Online Death out of Thin Air by Clayton Rawson - Free Book Online

Hindu who has been educated at Oxford. “The manners of the American police are distinctly reprehensible. I shall report this behavior to your superiors.”
    That had Church stopped. All he could do was repeat himself. “Oh yeah?” he said again.
    As Church turned his back on the Maharajah, Don allowed himself half a grin.
    But the grin didn’t last. When Church heard that the haughty gentleman from the East had been apprehended scaling the wall outside, he gave the Maharajah a hard look and ordered, “Lieutenant, phone the British consul. Check up on this Maha-whatsis. I’ll bet a sacred white elephant he’s phoney as they come.”
    The lieutenant dialed the phone.

C HAPTER IX
    The Jewels with Wings
    T HE Inspector watched the Maharajah light a gold-tipped cigarette and stroll unconcernedly to the bookcases across the room. He dropped his match into an ashtray there and leaned nonchalantly back against the wall, his hands in his pockets.
    Then the Inspector made a mistake. He turned to listen to the Lieutenant at the phone. When that gentleman had discovered that the consul had never heard of any Maharajah of Vdai-Loo, Church whirled on his heel to face the impostor.
    But where the Maharajah had been, there was now nothing at all — nothing but a long curl of smoke that floated upward from the cigarette lying on the ashtray’s edge.
    Church exploded like a dynamite bomb.
    Twenty minutes later, when the detonation had subsided, four detectives had been demoted for not keeping their eyes open, and the Maharajah was still missing. Church was giving orders to have the walls torn apart in a search for trapdoors when Karl objected.
    â€œYou try that,” he said, “and Don Diavolo’s lawyers will pop up with a suit for damages so fast you’ll think they came in through a trapdoor!”
    Karl was ordinarily a meek person but the Inspector’s order to tear into the walls in which he had carefully and laboriously installed a number of delicately operating, secret mechanisms made him boil.
    Church backed water a bit at this and turned his attention to Pat who was by now nearly recovered, though her eyelids still drooped heavily with a strange fatigue.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with her, Doc?” he asked.
    â€œI wish I knew for sure,” Dr. Graf replied. “She’s been doped and she shows symptoms similar to that of a hypnotic trance.”
    â€œWhat about those marks on her neck? If you try to tell me a bat made them too, I’ll—”
    â€œI wouldn’t know about bats,” Graf said. “I’ve never seen one of their bites. I’m more inclined to believe the marks are those of a hypodermic needle. The dope was probably injected intravenously. What I don’t understand is how the injection could be made if Miss Collins resisted. It’s not something you can do handily if the patients object.”
    Pat’s eyes struggled open. “I’ll tell you that, Dr. Graf,” she said weakly. “The Bat put his hands around my throat and pressed, with his fingers, behind my ears. I lost consciousness at once.”
    Church looked at the doctor. “Yes,” the latter said, “that’s possible. There are two nerve centers there, which, if pressed upon properly, will cause unconsciousness to supervene.”
    The Inspector turned to Pat. “Are you still telling me that this guy looked like a bat?”
    â€œYes, Inspector,” she said defiantly. “I certainly am.” She shivered.
    â€œAnd you are sure you saw him before you were doped, not afterward?”
    Pat nodded. “Karl saw him too.”
    â€œI know. And Karl was knocked out. You could both be dreaming.”
    â€œThe same dream, Inspector?” Pat objected.
    â€œDammit, I don’t know,” Church growled. This bat story was beginning to get him. He’d heard it too often by now. He still didn’t believe it, but