Doc Savage: The Secret of Satan's Spine (The Wild Adventures of Doc Savage Book 15) Read Online Free Page A

trouble back of them.”
    “Maybe. But Davey’s a nice kid, and pure as the driven snow.”
    Ham admitted, “So she struck me, but perhaps she has drifted.”
    Monk said nothing to that. Abruptly, he suggested, “You go on ahead. I’m headin’ back to my penthouse digs. I suddenly got a lot of packin’ to do.”
    With that, the homely chemist went bounding off on his bandy legs, leaving Ham Brooks making disapproving shapes with his wide, mobile orator’s mouth.
    “Drat!” snapped Ham. “That dish-faced ape is going to end up in a pine box or worse if he keeps on chasing skirts he does not know.”
    Clutching his sword cane more tightly, Ham hailed a taxicab and directed the driver to take him to Doc Savage headquarters.
    “Snappy!” he urged.
    THE BRONZE MAN was waiting in his laboratory when the dapper lawyer arrived ten minutes later.
    Barging into the laboratory set-up, Ham said excitedly, “I have discovered that that fool ape has agreed to train south to Louisiana and visit the blonde woman’s plantation out there.”
    “What is wrong with that?” asked Doc.
    “In two days Monk was supposed to ship out to Europe to do some chemical work for the British.”
    Doc nodded. “I remember that now. And Monk is more broke than usual this month.”
    “It is not like him to turn down an honest dollar, never mind a windfall,” insisted Ham.
    “Neither is it like Monk to forego the company of an attractive blonde when the wind blows one in his direction,” reminded Doc.
    Ham studied the gold head of his cane, and said slowly, “It was an ill wind that blew one in his direction this time.”
    Interest flickered in the bronze man’s peculiar eyes. “Do you know this young woman’s name?”
    Ham nodded curtly. “She called herself Davey Lee.”
    “Describe her, please,” requested Doc.
    Ham did, painting a fairly colorful picture of the young woman, and at the end remarked, “Although she claimed to be from Shreveport, her accent smacked of Virginia.”
    “Young women raised in Virginia might easily fall heir to a Louisiana plantation, you know.”
    “She did not strike me as the plantation owner’s daughter type. More the vapid Southern Belle variety.”
    “She could easily be both,” said Doc Savage absently.
    The bronze man had been racking chemicals in a special cabinet while the discussion took place. He became engrossed in this activity.
    Impatiently, Ham asked, “What should we do about this predicament?”
    “To all outward appearances,” said Doc Savage, “Monk’s latest passion appears to be exactly what it presents itself—a star-struck young woman in the big city who happened to meet someone she perceives as a famous celebrity.”
    “The whole affair smacks of trouble,” insisted Ham.
    “If you feel that way,” suggested Doc, returning to his work, “feel free to keep an eye on Monk until your specific suspicions are confirmed, or allayed.”
    “Why, I intend to do just that!” snapped the dapper lawyer. “For someone has to block that infernal ape from barging into trouble, if not matrimony.”
    “Please keep me informed,” requested Doc Savage as Ham Brooks closed the laboratory door behind him, making determined footsteps through the spacious library and on out of sight and hearing.

Chapter III
    SMOKE FOR HAIR
    MONK MAYFAIR GREETED the dawn with a grin.
    He flung aside the silk sheets of his four-poster bed in his Wall Street penthouse, a rookery in which he had lived for more than a decade, but on whose rent he was disastrously in arrears.
    The homely chemist gave no thought to his money worries, however, as he hastily showered, wolfed down a hearty breakfast, and dressed for his trip to the sunny South.
    Finishing his eggs, Monk rang his secretary, who had the reputation of being the prettiest in captivity.
    “I’m going out of town for a few days,” he told her. “Be sure to check up on Habeas twice a day and make sure he’s fed.”
    The secretary’s voice