fashionable Westchester County in exactly one . . .”
“Geeze,” said Smitty. “It keeps getting more and more complicated. I thought Brace Duffly was for sure dead and gone. And if little Jerry is on the sleigh ride I guess they must have fished him out of the cistern okay. I got to start listening to this thing every day.”
The Romance of Mary Joyce, M.D., was at the moment Smitty’s favorite radio show. Cole, who preferred stuff like Fred Allen, kidded him about his taste in radio. The giant persisted in his loyalty to the soap opera.
“. . . ladies, they’ll ask you if you bought the cake at an expensive professional bakery. That’s how moist and fluffy and delicious it’ll be. You can fell them that with new improved Korno Shortening in your recipe you . . .”
“C’mon, c’mon,” urged Smitty. “Let’s get on with the gosh darn show.”
The tracking box began to hum.
“Oops! Those bozos have stopped.” Smitty eased up on the gas pedal. “Yeah, not more than a couple miles ahead.”
Smitty surveyed the scene. Downhill from where he’d concealed his car, and on the other side of a stand of evergreens, rose a brick wall. About six feet high and crusted with twists and twirls of dead ivy, the wall boxed in a four-acre stretch of land. Far from the wall, surrounded by squat dry trees, was a sprawling brownstone mansion.
From his coat pocket the giant extracted a pair of small but very powerful binoculars. “That’s got to be their jalopy sitting in the open garage,” he decided. “Yeah, you can see the fresh tracks in the snow.”
A bronze plaque next to the oaken door of the mansion repeated the legend which Smitty had already noted on the iron gates out front. Steinbrunner Ear, Nose & Throat Hospital. Private.
Even though he might have done some damage to the ears, noses, and throats of the two hoods, Smitty didn’t think they’d come to the private hospital for medical attention.
Very quietly, especially for someone of his bulk, he moved down into the stand of trees. A gray squirrel went skittering across his path and up into a tree, shaking yesterday’s snow down on Smitty.
“Huh, looks like more company’s coming.”
The front gates had rattled open, and a dark sedan was driving around the curving driveway toward the garage.
Smitty watched its progress through his binoculars.
The automobile pulled in beside the hoods’ car. There was only one man in it, a plump man in a checkered overcoat. He got out and went hurrying toward a rear door of the mansion.
“Let’s get a little closer look,” Smitty told himself. “Got a hunch this guy is the boss of the other two.”
He began working his way closer.
CHAPTER XV
“An Interesting Gadget”
The Avenger gave his belt-buckle radio one more try, then shook his head negatively.
Nellie parked their car across the street from the white concrete building which was their destination. “What do you think, Dick?”
“It may be Cole and Josh are in a situation where they can’t respond.”
“Neither one of them has reported in since yesterday,” the little blonde said.
“Yes, which is why I’m beginning to worry.” He stepped out of the auto, and walked around its nose to open the door for the girl.
“Think somebody’s grabbed them? The same way they grabbed Mac?”
“We don’t know for certain anyone has kidnapped Mac.” Benson took her arm and they crossed the street.
“Seems a logical conclusion.”
“That it does.”
A heavyset man just inside the glass door of the white building said, “Let’s see some identification, folks.”
The Avenger showed him a card from his wallet.
“Oh, sure, Mr. Benson. Agent Early’s waiting for you down that hall to the left, in office 26.”
Early was standing beside a wooden table on which was stretched out the Kirby Macauley robot. “This is an interesting gadget,” he said as the Avenger and Nellie came in. “Apparently it’s possible to deactivate it from a
“Geeze,” said Smitty. “It keeps getting more and more complicated. I thought Brace Duffly was for sure dead and gone. And if little Jerry is on the sleigh ride I guess they must have fished him out of the cistern okay. I got to start listening to this thing every day.”
The Romance of Mary Joyce, M.D., was at the moment Smitty’s favorite radio show. Cole, who preferred stuff like Fred Allen, kidded him about his taste in radio. The giant persisted in his loyalty to the soap opera.
“. . . ladies, they’ll ask you if you bought the cake at an expensive professional bakery. That’s how moist and fluffy and delicious it’ll be. You can fell them that with new improved Korno Shortening in your recipe you . . .”
“C’mon, c’mon,” urged Smitty. “Let’s get on with the gosh darn show.”
The tracking box began to hum.
“Oops! Those bozos have stopped.” Smitty eased up on the gas pedal. “Yeah, not more than a couple miles ahead.”
Smitty surveyed the scene. Downhill from where he’d concealed his car, and on the other side of a stand of evergreens, rose a brick wall. About six feet high and crusted with twists and twirls of dead ivy, the wall boxed in a four-acre stretch of land. Far from the wall, surrounded by squat dry trees, was a sprawling brownstone mansion.
From his coat pocket the giant extracted a pair of small but very powerful binoculars. “That’s got to be their jalopy sitting in the open garage,” he decided. “Yeah, you can see the fresh tracks in the snow.”
A bronze plaque next to the oaken door of the mansion repeated the legend which Smitty had already noted on the iron gates out front. Steinbrunner Ear, Nose & Throat Hospital. Private.
Even though he might have done some damage to the ears, noses, and throats of the two hoods, Smitty didn’t think they’d come to the private hospital for medical attention.
Very quietly, especially for someone of his bulk, he moved down into the stand of trees. A gray squirrel went skittering across his path and up into a tree, shaking yesterday’s snow down on Smitty.
“Huh, looks like more company’s coming.”
The front gates had rattled open, and a dark sedan was driving around the curving driveway toward the garage.
Smitty watched its progress through his binoculars.
The automobile pulled in beside the hoods’ car. There was only one man in it, a plump man in a checkered overcoat. He got out and went hurrying toward a rear door of the mansion.
“Let’s get a little closer look,” Smitty told himself. “Got a hunch this guy is the boss of the other two.”
He began working his way closer.
CHAPTER XV
“An Interesting Gadget”
The Avenger gave his belt-buckle radio one more try, then shook his head negatively.
Nellie parked their car across the street from the white concrete building which was their destination. “What do you think, Dick?”
“It may be Cole and Josh are in a situation where they can’t respond.”
“Neither one of them has reported in since yesterday,” the little blonde said.
“Yes, which is why I’m beginning to worry.” He stepped out of the auto, and walked around its nose to open the door for the girl.
“Think somebody’s grabbed them? The same way they grabbed Mac?”
“We don’t know for certain anyone has kidnapped Mac.” Benson took her arm and they crossed the street.
“Seems a logical conclusion.”
“That it does.”
A heavyset man just inside the glass door of the white building said, “Let’s see some identification, folks.”
The Avenger showed him a card from his wallet.
“Oh, sure, Mr. Benson. Agent Early’s waiting for you down that hall to the left, in office 26.”
Early was standing beside a wooden table on which was stretched out the Kirby Macauley robot. “This is an interesting gadget,” he said as the Avenger and Nellie came in. “Apparently it’s possible to deactivate it from a
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