is this all about?”
“Perhaps you’re aware, Mrs. Dahler, that several prominent scientists in the Bay Area have apparently committed suicide recently.”
“Yes,” she said, putting a hand on the arm of a chair to steady herself. “You don’t mean my husband has—”
“As far as I know nothing has happened to your husband . . . yet,” said the Avenger. “But we have information that he may be the next victim.”
“Victim? I don’t understand . . .”
“Somebody’s making these guys knock themselves off, Mrs. Dahler,” explained Smitty. “They got a machine that hypnotizes folks into suicide.”
“You mean . . . none of these others really did kill themselves?”
“That’s right,” said Benson. “Can you tell us where to find your husband?”
She touched her fingertips to her pale cheek. “Well, yes,” she said. “More or less, You see, he’s taken a few days off. It’s the first free time he’s had and I told him he really must go some place and relax. I’d have gone with him except I’ve had a touch of the flu and am really not up to the kind of rugged vacation he enjoys most. So he and Professor Markowitz have gone—”
“Holy cow!” said Smitty. “Both of them together.”
“What do you mean . . . ?”
“Professor Markowitz is also on the list of victims,” said the Avenger.
The woman sat down in the chair she’d been holding onto. “You know, I usually pride myself on being able to sense what’s coming . . . little hunches and premonitions. But this time I really had no hint of anything bad coming. I was pleased that they’d—”
“Where did they go?” asked Benson.
“My husband is fascinated by ghost towns, Mr. Benson. The deserted towns that are the lefovers of the various gold rushes. He and Professor Markowitz left yesterday morning for a town about two hundred miles north of us. It’s called Nolanville.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of that,” said Benson. “Now, is there any way you can reach your husband, get a message to him?”
She shook her head forlornly. “No, none. That was one of the advantages of this sort of vacation for him . . . no one would be able to reach him. He’s been working so very—”
“In case he should contact you, tell him to be very careful. We’ll be in Nolanville tomorrow sometime.”
“Is he . . . really in danger?”
“Yes,” said the Avenger.
Yawning, Smitty said, “They could use a couple skyscrapers around here to break the monotony.”
The country they were driving through was flat and yellow. Low, bare hills rose up along the horizon, and an occasional stunted tree grew nearer at hand. It was midday and hot.
“People don’t come out to these spots for the pleasures of civilization,” said Dick Benson.
“As long as we got a civilization, more or less, I figure we might as well use it.” Smitty drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel for a moment. “You don’t suppose Unc is on anybody’s list, do you?”
“Since he’s not involved in government work, it seems doubtful.”
“I still don’t get why he wasn’t hanging around my hotel room when I went back to grab a little shuteye last night.”
“You have been urging him to get a room of his own someplace or go back to his rented place in Berkeley.”
“He would have left some message if he was moving out,” said Smitty. “And I hope he didn’t go back to Berkeley. From what we heard from Cole and Nellie before taking off on this jaunt of ours, it ain’t too healthy over there. What with robust frat types dropping over dead and all.”
The Avenger leaned back in his seat, steepled his finger beneath his chin. “When we get back from Nolanville I’d like to look into the background of the boy who killed himself.”
Smitty asked, “What do you think about that clue Cole says he found when he was going through the kid’s stuff?”
“It’s worth following up.”
“Yeah, but those college kids nowadays drink a lot. Maybe that
“Perhaps you’re aware, Mrs. Dahler, that several prominent scientists in the Bay Area have apparently committed suicide recently.”
“Yes,” she said, putting a hand on the arm of a chair to steady herself. “You don’t mean my husband has—”
“As far as I know nothing has happened to your husband . . . yet,” said the Avenger. “But we have information that he may be the next victim.”
“Victim? I don’t understand . . .”
“Somebody’s making these guys knock themselves off, Mrs. Dahler,” explained Smitty. “They got a machine that hypnotizes folks into suicide.”
“You mean . . . none of these others really did kill themselves?”
“That’s right,” said Benson. “Can you tell us where to find your husband?”
She touched her fingertips to her pale cheek. “Well, yes,” she said. “More or less, You see, he’s taken a few days off. It’s the first free time he’s had and I told him he really must go some place and relax. I’d have gone with him except I’ve had a touch of the flu and am really not up to the kind of rugged vacation he enjoys most. So he and Professor Markowitz have gone—”
“Holy cow!” said Smitty. “Both of them together.”
“What do you mean . . . ?”
“Professor Markowitz is also on the list of victims,” said the Avenger.
The woman sat down in the chair she’d been holding onto. “You know, I usually pride myself on being able to sense what’s coming . . . little hunches and premonitions. But this time I really had no hint of anything bad coming. I was pleased that they’d—”
“Where did they go?” asked Benson.
“My husband is fascinated by ghost towns, Mr. Benson. The deserted towns that are the lefovers of the various gold rushes. He and Professor Markowitz left yesterday morning for a town about two hundred miles north of us. It’s called Nolanville.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of that,” said Benson. “Now, is there any way you can reach your husband, get a message to him?”
She shook her head forlornly. “No, none. That was one of the advantages of this sort of vacation for him . . . no one would be able to reach him. He’s been working so very—”
“In case he should contact you, tell him to be very careful. We’ll be in Nolanville tomorrow sometime.”
“Is he . . . really in danger?”
“Yes,” said the Avenger.
Yawning, Smitty said, “They could use a couple skyscrapers around here to break the monotony.”
The country they were driving through was flat and yellow. Low, bare hills rose up along the horizon, and an occasional stunted tree grew nearer at hand. It was midday and hot.
“People don’t come out to these spots for the pleasures of civilization,” said Dick Benson.
“As long as we got a civilization, more or less, I figure we might as well use it.” Smitty drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel for a moment. “You don’t suppose Unc is on anybody’s list, do you?”
“Since he’s not involved in government work, it seems doubtful.”
“I still don’t get why he wasn’t hanging around my hotel room when I went back to grab a little shuteye last night.”
“You have been urging him to get a room of his own someplace or go back to his rented place in Berkeley.”
“He would have left some message if he was moving out,” said Smitty. “And I hope he didn’t go back to Berkeley. From what we heard from Cole and Nellie before taking off on this jaunt of ours, it ain’t too healthy over there. What with robust frat types dropping over dead and all.”
The Avenger leaned back in his seat, steepled his finger beneath his chin. “When we get back from Nolanville I’d like to look into the background of the boy who killed himself.”
Smitty asked, “What do you think about that clue Cole says he found when he was going through the kid’s stuff?”
“It’s worth following up.”
“Yeah, but those college kids nowadays drink a lot. Maybe that
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