Doc Savage: The Miracle Menace Read Online Free Page A

which withdrew mechanically.
    For a moment, Monk stared out through the open dirigible door.
    The massive spire of the great skyline—the tallest in Manhattan—lay beneath them. It was a long drop down.
    “Will you kindly close that hatch!” Ham complained.
    “I happen to favor the view,” Monk returned. “In case I ever get the urge to pitch an ambulance-chasin’ shyster down, I want to know how long it will take him to fall.”
    Ham fumed, went to the controls, which were deceptively simple. There were control wheels and the expected dials and gauges, which allowed instantaneous monitoring of yaw, pitch and altitude.
    “I am about to cast off, ready or not,” Ham called out.
    With a last look, Monk shut the hatch.
    Ham had by that time engaged the engines. There were but two. He pulled a lever and an ingenious mechanical claw of a hook—the only thing tethering the small airship to the mooring mast—let go. Its tines were electrically controlled and snapped open in order to release its steel-clawed grasp.
    Engines in reverse, the dirigible backed away from the mooring mast. There was little wind, which was a hazard that defeated all past docking attempts.
    When they were clear, Ham advanced the throttle and the little airship gave a jump and began bumping along in a northerly direction. It ran very quietly, owing to interior soundproofing.
    In very quick order, the upper regions of Manhattan began unreeling beneath them. The sharp splinters of midtown skyscrapers gave way to blocky apartment houses and other less imposing buildings.
    Ham Brooks addressed Monk haughtily.
    “At least you had the good sense to leave that blasted pig behind this time!” he uttered.
    The hairy chemist was studying the forest of buildings below, apparently unhearing. He began whistling a gaudy show tune.
    From the rear of the tiny gondola, a familiar squealing came.
    Ham started. Looking behind him he expected a certain porker to come bounding into view. None came.
    Ham whirled, demanded, “Was that you making that wretched squeal?”
    Monk did his level best to look injured. “Do I look like a pig to you?”
    “Of course not! But I do know you fancy yourself a ventriloquist.”
    Monk said nothing. His twinkling eyes sought the ceiling. An expression of innocence roosted upon his pleasantly homely features.
    Reluctantly, Ham returned to the controls.
    Again the piggy squeal came forth.
    Snapping his head around, Ham Brooks eyed Monk and the gondola interior by turns.
    “That was you! I knew it!”
    Monk continued looking innocent. Anyone knowing him well would conclude it masked the guilty expression of a practical-joking ventriloquist.
    Monk was one of a group of six remarkable men. Monk and four of the others were specialists in some particular line. One was an engineer; another a geologist; another a lawyer; and one an electrical wizard. Throughout the world, few could have been found to excel these five individuals in their chosen professions. Incredible enough, however, there was one man who was a greater chemist, a more accomplished engineer, a more learned lawyer, a more renowned geologist and skilled electrical expert than any of the five men. Furthermore, this fabulous personage was just as proficient at countless other professions. So vast was his fund of knowledge that even those associated closely with this astounding man were continually awed by his tremendous feats.
    That unique individual was the leader of the group to which Monk belonged—Doc Savage. Man of Miracles, archangel of science, Doc was a being about whom much was written, much more was rumored, but little was definitely known.
    Imaginative newspapermen had taken to regaling readers with the notion that Doc was a spiritual descendant of Sir Galahad, the knight who went around rescuing persons in distress. There was something to be said for that analogy. For the Man of Bronze, as he was most often called, subscribed to the theory that when a good deed