Dent Lester - Trouble On Parade

The discovery of the Zipper suddenly got an effective exclamation point tacked on to it when a man screamed!

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Doc happened to be looking at Disappointed Smith when the man shrieked. He thought Smith was going to faint.

Then he thought he had never seen anyone more faster than Smith moved getting behind a tree. Mix Walden was hardly less disturbed. She grabbed at her heart.

The howl (it was difficult to determine what emotion the cry conveyed) came from the hotel grounds nearby. Doc wheeled toward the sound. He discovered a man running toward him. A roundish fat man in a flannel suit that was too tight.

“Mr. Savage!” the man screamed. “I want to talk to you!”

This was clear information. And when 3 men wearing the livery of the hotel seized the man who had yelled, Doc lunged forward, ignoring Smith's frantic “Oh my God! Don't start the trouble now!”

The 3 men wrestled the fat man around, addressing some words to him which Doc didn't catch. The plump screamer — obviously because of what had been said to him — underwent a change. He looked at Doc vacantly when the bronze man arrived.

“You wished,” Doc asked, “to speak to me?”

The plump man stared wordlessly. Doc was sure there was a brand of supreme horrorin his eyes.

“This guy's one of the patients,” a hotel attendant said. “He's a nut.”

“Release him,” Doc said ominously.

The attendants exchanged indecisive glances … then shrugs … and took their hands off the howler.

“Now,” Doc told the fat man, “what did you have on your mind? Don't be afraid. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

The plump man licked his lips and mumbled finally, “I'm sorry.”

“Didn't you have anything to say?” Doc demanded.

“I … I guess not.”

“You acted as if you had.”

“Uh … I … I forget what it was.”

The attendants tried not to look visibly relieved.

“I'm sorry about this, Sir,” one of them said. “This guy is improving steadily. But he blows his cork once in a while just for a few minutes.”

Doc Savage looked at them narrowly.

“You gentlemen,” he said, “had better not try to pull anything.”

“We're sure sorry,” the attendant said rather unpleasantly, “if you don't believe us. But we can't help it.”

Doc demanded, “Are you trying to tell me this hotel is an insane asylum?”

“Not exactly,” the attendant said. “But we got a few guests who are a little nervous. And the sea air around here does them good.”

Another attendant grinned. “It's very quieting the sea air here. People forget their worries.”

“Yeah,” said the third attendant. “The guests around here get quiet. Awful quiet.”

The first flunky nodded.

“Almost as quiet as if they were dead,” he said.

The three walked away, taking the plump terrified man with them.

Doc reflected that the attendants were 3 very nasty looking customers.

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Disappointed Smith came reluctantly from behind the three where he had taken refuge and rejoined Doc Savage. There was now a dew of nervous perspiration on Smith's face where it was not covered with whiskers.

“Boy!” gasped Smith. “I thought Judgment Day was here with me not prepared!”

“That man,” Doc said grimly, “had something to tell me.”

Smith shivered. “It's lucky for us he changed his mind and didn't say it.”

“He didn't talk,” Doc said, “because they threatened him.”

“Conceivably.”

“Who was he?”

“I don't know. But maybe Mix does.”

Smith turned to Mix, who was also showing the disturbed symptoms of someone who had just stepped out of the path of a thundering railway engine.

“Do you know him?”

“He's one of the boatload of shipwreck passengers,” Mix said. “His name is Keeler. Sam Keeler. They thought he was dumb and so let him run around loose. But evidently he wasn't too dumb to finally catch on to what is happening around here.”

“Hush!” gasped Disappointed Smith. “I've changed my mind. I don't want to know who he is. And I don't want to know anything else that will get me shot!”

Doc Savage became irritated.

“Are you two,” he demanded, “going to tell me what's back of this?”

“Not me,” said Smith hastily.

“I don't dare,” said Mix. “I'm afraid they would slaughter Jane if I did.”

Doc scowled at Si Hedges — who didn't look as if he was willing to give any information either — and they continued toward the hotel entrance.

In appearance, the hotel lived up to the impression it had given from a distance of being a pleasant, comfortable hostelry in a rather picturesque locale.

Also at close range, it became evident that the place was quite luxurious. It was the kind of an establishment millionaires travel long distances to find.

The thing that most impressed Doc Savage, however, was more intangible.

An air of sinisterportent — the kind of a feeling that went with screams in the night, cocked pistols, and poison bottles.

He experienced no surprise when Stanley K. Foreman — owner of the Zipper — approached them across the lobby.

Foreman's expression was unpleasant.

Stanley K. Foreman planted himself in front of them and placed his hands — which were doubled into fists — on his hips. He made a short speech.

“What-the-hell are you doing here, you pirate? I heard you broke jail. This is a respectable hotel and I'm not going to have things smashed up in it! What do you want here?”

“You own this establishment?” Doc asked.

“Of course I own it!”

Trying not to be too obvious about it, Doc Savage had surveyed the lobby. And the conclusion he immediately reached was that Foreman was a liar and fully expected violence in his hotel lobby. There were nearly a dozen men in the place. And none of them looked at ease. No one had any visible armament. But there could be plenty close at hand.

Also it wasn't natural — Doc reflected — for so many guests in a resort hotel to be up-and-about so early in the morning. The stage, Doc felt, was now set for violence. He didn't like it.

He decided to see whether there was any possibility that the enemy wished to avoid a showdown.

“Mr. Foreman, there has been a misunderstanding,” Doc said pleasantly. “I feel — if you would listen to my explanation of how I came to make use of your boat for a short time — we could straighten this out. I do not relish being charged with piracy, so I would like very much to talk to you. I think we can reach an amicable understanding.”

Suspicion charged Foreman's oiled voice as he demanded, “That why you came here?”

“Mr. Smith was kind enough to bring me. It was an accommodation on his part that I was able to persuade him to fetch me,” Doc replied.

Si Hedges delivered a small surprise.

He said, “That is correct, Mr. Foreman. And I persuaded them to let me ride with them.”

Foreman scowled at Hedges. “As a secretary, you're damned unreliable! Where did you disappear to? I looked all over town for you before I left for the island last night.”

“I was having an unfortunate experience, Sir,” Hedges said. “I'm awfully sorry that I discommoded you.”

With a snort, Foreman wheeled back to Doc.