Dent Lester - Trouble On Parade

It had been built by a retired sea captain about 60 years ago because it was a top-heavy old manse of that era. And also there was a small railed porch at the highest cupola, this being an architectural horror of that period — known as a captain's bridge — which retired sea captains invariably incorporated in their homes.

There was enough gnarled shrubbery in the yard to encourage Doc to try to reach a window after Mix and her 2 friends made a dash inside. He surmised things were going to move fast.

And they did.

Someone in the black shadow at the foot of a bush grabbed his left leg. Doc kicked the someone in the stomach!

Whoever it was folded double like a jackknife and made goose-like hissing sounds.

Men started coming out of the front door of the house. The two who had been with Mix. And two more. All of them looking and acting quite healthy, which made it a difficult matter to say which one was Si Hedges.

Mix followed them. The group seemed intent on leaving the house but — upon hearing the goose-hissing noises of the man Doc had kicked — they halted.

Doc made his voice loud and threatful.

He said, “The place is surrounded. Hands up, you people!”

A rifle of indecision swept the group on the porch.

Then Mix lifted her hands and the others followed the example with noticeable reluctance. One man held his hands out from his sides … apparently unable to decide to raise them … and began to tremble. He was — Doc felt sure — the small-faced man who had taken the potshot at him from the Royal East hotel grounds.

Doc was pleased.

“All right, men!” he said, still more loudly . “Keep them covered. And at the first false move, fill them full of lead!”

This seemed effective. The man that Doc had kicked was still hissing loudly. But by spurts now, trying to get air back behind his jolted solar plexus. Doc tried to kick him again but missed.

“Si Hedges!” Doc called loudly. “Si, come on out of there!”

He was not completely surprised (he had begun to suspect Hedges was one of the group) when a slender, studious-looking young man separated himself from the porch cluster.

Doc ordered, “Hedges, come here!”

He had intended to have Si Hedges collect any weapons the others might have. But the fraternal air between Hedges and the others discouraged the idea.

Si Hedges stepped off the porch and came toward Doc.

The man on the ground at Doc's feet stood up suddenly and took a swing at Doc, landing a grazing blow on Doc's head. The man was Disappointed Smith. And he was still groggy or the punch might have brained Doc. As it was, his head felt for a moment as if it housed several clanging schoolbells.

Si Hedges stopped, amazed.

Disappointed Smith said “Kick me in the belly will you!” and tried to hit Doc again, unsuccessfully.

“Hell! They ain't cops!” This came from the porch.

Pistol fire and noise, also from the porch. Doc Savage flung himself down and rolled, changing his position. It sounded to him as though there were 20-or-so shots in about a fourth that many seconds.

Disappointed Smith went down. He wasn't hit. Nor scared, either.

He said, “I'll break their damned backs for this!”

The shooting stopped. Feet clattered. Doc lifted his head. The gunners had fled back into the house. Mix Walden was lying on the porch. Si Hedges was standing in the yard with his hands foolishly upraised.

Doc ran for the house.

“Wait for me!” said Disappointed Smith.

“The stinkers!” he added.

Doc slowed his pace. Nnot to acquire Disappointed as a reinforcement but because he didn't consider it discreet to have the red-whiskered giant at his back.

Disappointed reached out and collared Si Hedges in passing.

“Come on, honesty and righteousness,” he said and hauled Hedges along bodily without seeming to exert himself.

They set foot on the porch and a bullet came through a window, bringing broken glass.

Disappointed Smith threw Si Hedges on the floor against the house and fell on top of him. Doc was a little faster in getting down.

“Ouch!” said Disappointed Smith to Hedges. “What have you got in your pocket, prissy?”

Hedges didn't say anything.

Mix raised her head and asked, “What'll I do?”

“Are you hit?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “I'm so scared that I probably couldn't tell.”

Somebody in the house said, “Get outa the way, Mix, so we can do some shooting!”

Mix promptly rolled off the porch, taking up a position flat on the ground.

Disappointed Smith gave a grunt of pleasure.

“Sweetness and Light has got a gun,” he said.

He relieved Si Hedges of the gun and proceeded to fire it into the house.

- — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Throughout the neighborhood, windows were flying up and disturbed citizens were demanding what was happening. Two dogs began barking excitedly.

Doc Savage hugged the wall and gave part of his attention to watching Disappointed Smith and counting the bullets which Smith fired from the captured revolver. 3 times Smith had shot. Now he discharged a 4 thshot and evidently hit — or badly terrified — someone because there was a cry.

“Come outa there crawling!” Disappointed Smith shouted. “Or I'll polish off the whole pack of you!”

Exactly the opposite happened.

The defenders of the house fled out the back door. Doc Savage sprang up and raced toward the rear, arriving in time to see the men diving into a garage door. A moment later, a car burst from the other end of the garage … careened into the street … and fled.

Wham! Smith's captured gun blew the night apart from a point near Doc's ear.

The car proceeded unscathed, losing itself from sight and sound.

Indignantly, Disappointed Smith shook Si Hedges whom he had dragged along.

“You jiggled my arm and made me miss!” Smith declared.

The last bullet was now gone from Smith's gun Doc's count told him. Which was a relief. Doc wheeled and ran around to the front of the house again, searching for Mix Walden.

She was lying on the ground beside the porch.

“They've gone,” Doc said. “You can get up.”

Mix didn't move.

Alarmed, Doc sank beside her. He found she was unconscious. Whether from a wound or fright, he couldn't tell. But his fingers located no traces of blood in the murk. He lifted Mix in his arms and — carrying her — rejoined Disappointed Smith.

“Is she hurt?” Smith demanded, displaying more concern than a casual interest warranted. “Damn them! If they've shot her …”

“I think she has only fainted,” Doc said.

He glanced longingly at the house and added, “I'd like to search that place. But I doubt if there is time.”

“Somebody's sure to have called the cops,” declared Disappointed Smith. “They'll get here pronto. And we better be scarce!”

Doc agreed it was a good idea.

They got moving. Doc carrying Mix and Smith yanking Hedges along with them.

Hedges was uncommunicative. Hedges hadn't, Doc realized, spoken a word.

“Let's use alleys,” Smith said. “I don't think the cops will start searching alleys until they find out what the shooting was all about. And that'll take a little time.”

“You don't seem anxious to meet the police,” Doc suggested.

“That's right.”

“Did you break jail also?”

“Nah.”

“How did you get out?”

“Bail.”