Read Online The Avenger 10 - The Smiling Dogs by Kenneth Robeson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kenneth Robeson
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standard bedroom, save that it had no windows.
He lay in bed, dazed, staring around. The door opened and a man with a neat goatee and a super-neat small mustache came in.
That stirred the Senator. He sat up with the dull-red of rage in his cheeks. “Fram!” he rasped. “You damned, double-crossing—”
He stopped. “Fram” was taking something curious from his eyeballs. Two small, tissue-thin glass cups with pupils painted on them like the pupils of Fram’s eyes.
The eyes that were revealed were not the eyes of the psychiatrist. They were like stainless steel chips in the emotionless countenance so cleverly resembling Fram’s face. They were—the eyes of The Avenger, otherwise disguised as Dr. Fram.
Man of a Thousand Faces, Benson was called. And once again he had proved his right to the title.
“I heard Dr. Sherman talk to your butler yesterday,” Benson said calmly. “I tapped your telephone wire. I heard the butler tell all about the way your gun went off ‘accidentally’ the other night, and I suspected something like this was in the wind. So I prepared for it. A substitution of Fram’s features for my own, a bit of gas for the men in the ambulance, and here we are.”
“You saved my life,” mumbled Burnside, eyes profoundly grateful.
“Perhaps not,” said Benson. “Perhaps you were only to be thoroughly frightened. But I couldn’t take a chance. I didn’t know.”
Burnside clutched The Avenger’s arm as his first fear came back. It was a good deal like clutching a length of tapering steel cable.
“You don’t think I’m insane, do you?” he implored. “You haven’t taken me—just to shut me up in a private sanitarium?”
“I think you are quite sane,” Benson said.
“Where am I?” said Burnside, relaxing again.
“In the storage room of an office suite I keep rented here in Washington. No one knows it is mine. You will have this room, and two outside, to wander in. But I don’t want you to leave the suite.”
“But you just said you didn’t think I was crazy.”
“I don’t. But others may. It would be safest for you to lie low here for a time.”
“I’m a busy man,” protested Burnside.
“When matters come up in the Senate making your presence there imperative,” said The Avenger, “you can go there from here, doubling on your tracks so that you can’t be traced. You can return the same way. But this hide-out must be your temporary quarters. I have assigned my two servants to take care of your needs.”
He nodded and went out, with authority and power so dominant in his average-sized body that even a man like Senator Burnside was left incapable of questioning it.
Outside, he drew Josh Newton aside. “You and Rosabel will tend the Senator’s needs,” he said. “Burnside knows something that he doesn’t seem to want to tell. I want you two to try to find out what it is.”
CHAPTER IX
Wings of Death
Nellie Gray was an excellent judge of character. She had talked quite a little with Nan Stanton, her fellow prisoner in the basement of the garage, and was sure Nan could be trusted.
The two girls had told a little about themselves to each other. Nan kept dwelling on the phrase the bony man had used to describe her.
“ ‘Dope from the front office,’ huh!” she repeated for the dozenth time. “Well, they’re right. I certainly was a dope.” She stretched slim, shapely arms. “It begins to look as if Dr. Fram sent me up to the New York office for the sole purpose of getting me grabbed off by those men.”
“So Dr. Fram’s a phony,” mused Nellie Gray.
Nan shook her sleek dark head doubtfully. “He’s not a phony—at least in his profession. That’s what makes it puzzling. He’s a bona-fide psychiatrist with a fine reputation. And his reputation has been earned. He is good.”
“It certainly looks as if he’s mixed up in this, somewhere,” shrugged Nellie. “Why would he want you kidnapped, though? What do you know about his
He lay in bed, dazed, staring around. The door opened and a man with a neat goatee and a super-neat small mustache came in.
That stirred the Senator. He sat up with the dull-red of rage in his cheeks. “Fram!” he rasped. “You damned, double-crossing—”
He stopped. “Fram” was taking something curious from his eyeballs. Two small, tissue-thin glass cups with pupils painted on them like the pupils of Fram’s eyes.
The eyes that were revealed were not the eyes of the psychiatrist. They were like stainless steel chips in the emotionless countenance so cleverly resembling Fram’s face. They were—the eyes of The Avenger, otherwise disguised as Dr. Fram.
Man of a Thousand Faces, Benson was called. And once again he had proved his right to the title.
“I heard Dr. Sherman talk to your butler yesterday,” Benson said calmly. “I tapped your telephone wire. I heard the butler tell all about the way your gun went off ‘accidentally’ the other night, and I suspected something like this was in the wind. So I prepared for it. A substitution of Fram’s features for my own, a bit of gas for the men in the ambulance, and here we are.”
“You saved my life,” mumbled Burnside, eyes profoundly grateful.
“Perhaps not,” said Benson. “Perhaps you were only to be thoroughly frightened. But I couldn’t take a chance. I didn’t know.”
Burnside clutched The Avenger’s arm as his first fear came back. It was a good deal like clutching a length of tapering steel cable.
“You don’t think I’m insane, do you?” he implored. “You haven’t taken me—just to shut me up in a private sanitarium?”
“I think you are quite sane,” Benson said.
“Where am I?” said Burnside, relaxing again.
“In the storage room of an office suite I keep rented here in Washington. No one knows it is mine. You will have this room, and two outside, to wander in. But I don’t want you to leave the suite.”
“But you just said you didn’t think I was crazy.”
“I don’t. But others may. It would be safest for you to lie low here for a time.”
“I’m a busy man,” protested Burnside.
“When matters come up in the Senate making your presence there imperative,” said The Avenger, “you can go there from here, doubling on your tracks so that you can’t be traced. You can return the same way. But this hide-out must be your temporary quarters. I have assigned my two servants to take care of your needs.”
He nodded and went out, with authority and power so dominant in his average-sized body that even a man like Senator Burnside was left incapable of questioning it.
Outside, he drew Josh Newton aside. “You and Rosabel will tend the Senator’s needs,” he said. “Burnside knows something that he doesn’t seem to want to tell. I want you two to try to find out what it is.”
CHAPTER IX
Wings of Death
Nellie Gray was an excellent judge of character. She had talked quite a little with Nan Stanton, her fellow prisoner in the basement of the garage, and was sure Nan could be trusted.
The two girls had told a little about themselves to each other. Nan kept dwelling on the phrase the bony man had used to describe her.
“ ‘Dope from the front office,’ huh!” she repeated for the dozenth time. “Well, they’re right. I certainly was a dope.” She stretched slim, shapely arms. “It begins to look as if Dr. Fram sent me up to the New York office for the sole purpose of getting me grabbed off by those men.”
“So Dr. Fram’s a phony,” mused Nellie Gray.
Nan shook her sleek dark head doubtfully. “He’s not a phony—at least in his profession. That’s what makes it puzzling. He’s a bona-fide psychiatrist with a fine reputation. And his reputation has been earned. He is good.”
“It certainly looks as if he’s mixed up in this, somewhere,” shrugged Nellie. “Why would he want you kidnapped, though? What do you know about his
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