Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 040 - Haunted Ocean

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HAUNTED OCEAN

A Doc Savage Adventure by Kenneth Robeson

http://www.blackmask.com

? Chapter I. DEAD MAN AT THE DOOR

? Chapter II. WOMAN OF VIOLENCE

? Chapter III. THE ABDUCTED COMMISSION

? Chapter IV. THE MYSTERY GROWS

? Chapter V. THE STRANGE REDHEAD

? Chapter VI. DAWN AT MIDNIGHT

? Chapter VII. THE WORLD THREAT

? Chapter VIII. WHEN A CITY STOPPED

? Chapter IX. DOC IS TRAPPED

? Chapter X. THE MIDNIGHT SUN

? Chapter XI. WHEN GUNS FAILED

? Chapter XII. NEW SKY POWER

? Chapter XIII. THE FACE OF A WOMAN

? Chapter XIV. A HOT RECEPTION

? Chapter XV. HOODOO OF THE SEA

? Chapter XVI. SATAN’S GATEWAY CURSE

? Chapter XVII. DOC’S MIRACLE

? Chapter XVIII. MEN OF ICY BLOOD

? Chapter XIX. THE WANDERING PROFESSOR

? Chapter XX. THE SKY SLIDE

? Chapter XXI. IN THE DEVIL’S NET

? Chapter XXII. HORNS OFF THE DEVIL

? Chapter XXIII. THE CRUSHING DEATH

? Chapter XXIV. BATTLE OF THE MONSTERS

? Chapter XXV. UNDER THE ICE

? Chapter XXVI. DEVIL’S OWN FIRE

? Chapter XXVII. THE MAN OF PEACE

Scanned and Proofed by Tom Stephens

Chapter I. DEAD MAN AT THE DOOR

"THERE’S a dead man just outside your door."

The voice was calm and controlled. Its tone might have indicated the owner was accustomed to encountering

dead men just outside of doors. Certainly the man who spoke was not greatly perturbed.

Doc Savage was facing the man as he entered. Except for a quick stirring of his flaky gold eyes, the bronze

adventurer himself did not betray great surprise. Yet, until the visitor had announced it, neither Doc Savage

nor his four companions then present had known of any presence in their corridor, dead or otherwise.

That is, with the exception of the man who had made the announcement. And this visitor had pressed the

buzzer and been admitted in the usual manner. Moreover, the visitor had been expected. He had telephoned

half an hour previously. His visit was for the purpose of consulting Doc Savage on the investigation in which

Doc and his four men were then engaged.

There was not a ripple on the smooth bronze skin of Doc Savage’s face. Looking at his visitor, he spoke first

to the big, solemn-faced man behind him.

"Renny, you will see what has happened," he said, quietly. "You will have a look around and bring the body

in."

Colonel John Renwick, known as "Renny," an engineer of worldwide repute, moved his great bulk toward the

outer door. Renny was a giant in breath and stature. His rugged features were always solemn, almost

melancholy. But that was deceptive.

Doc spoke next to the other big man beside him. This man was of ungainly, squat appearance. His small

eyes twinkled under the shaggiest of jutting brows. His long arms trailed his hands below his knees.

"Monk," directed Doc, "you will have a look around outside on the stairs. Perhaps it would be well to drop

down a few floors by elevator, then come up carefully."

Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Blodgett Mayfair, known as "Monk," the widely famed chemist of Doc’s group,

grunted in a childish treble. He scuttled in the direction of the elevators.

Doc thus had started the quickest possible means of finding out what a dead man outside his door might

mean. Then he addressed his visitor.

"Your reception has been somewhat unpleasant," said the bronze man. "You have excellent nerve. I take it

you are Professor Callus, the oceanographer?"

The man bowed and agreed. "I am Professor Callus. I have been in touch with a friend in the Geodetic Survey.

He mentioned you were seeking to trace the origin of the prevailing subsea disturbance."

"We have been working on that," stated Doc Savage. "I admit we probably have little more information than

yourself, if we have as much. What we know thus far we will gladly pass along."

Professor Callus wagged his head again. His skull had the peculiar appearance of a shining globe. It was

partly bald, and apparently too large for his scrawny neck and skinny body.

"Seeing the man outside the door was somewhat of a shock," he said, slowly. "It was more so because I

recognized him."

The voice of Professor Callus was still so calm that another of Doc’s companions emitted an exclamation.

"That’s nerve!" he said to the man beside him. "He walks onto a dead man! He knows him! And he doesn’t

turn a hair!"

The speaker was a slender, well-dressed fellow. He had the sharp nose and the keen eyes of an analyst.

Which he was. For the speaker was Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks, otherwise known as "Ham,"

the legal luminary of Doc Savage’s group. Ham carried a sword cane, the tip of which was covered with a

chemical that, injected in the skin, would produce instant unconsciousness.

Professor Callus apparently did not catch Ham’s remark.

"The dead man is a colleague, after a manner of speaking," he volunteered. "He is—or was—Professor

Homus Jasson, and he also has been a deep student of oceanography. I imagine he must have been on

somewhat the same mission as myself."

THEY were now in Doc Savage’s great library. This room, with other offices and perhaps the world’s most

completely equipped laboratory were on the eighty-sixth floor of lower Manhattan’s most impressive

skyscraper.

At the time Professor Callus had entered, Doc and his companions were intensively engaged with a wide

variety of instruments. Every known device for indicating weather conditions was in service.

For in the past few days, strange disturbances had been reported by the government Coast and Geodetic

Survey. Delicate instruments had been disturbed to the extent of being put out of business.

The inexplicable emanation appeared to come from the depths of the sea. Tonight Doc Savage was

attempting to not only trace the disturbance, but to isolate the position of its origin.

Thus far, the man of bronze had been unsuccessful.

Until the moment of the arrival of Professor Callus, the phenomenon had been accepted as probably some

natural, perhaps some undersea volcanic, disturbance.

But now there was a dead man outside the door. And Professor Callus had said he was an oceanographer

like himself.

THE matter of the identification brought no comment from Doc Savage. Renny was coming in. He was

bearing a body of slight form and weight in his huge arms.

"Holy cow!" boomed Renny, placing the body on a couch near the library table. "Feels like he might have

been out there some time! The body’s already stiff, Doc. And it looks to me like we missed something by him

not getting in here alive!"

Doc’s bronzed hands were already busy. He was removing a variety of lethal instruments from the pockets of

the dead man’s loose-fitting, shabby suit.

"Great guns!" exploded Ham. "He seems to have been a man going places for purposes of much violence!

Are those things bombs, Doc?"

Ham indicated two round, black objects equipped with timing triggers.

"They are bombs," stated Doc, calmly. "And from their compact form, I imagine they contain enough high

explosive to have wrecked this whole floor."

"This is indeed most peculiar," commented Professor Callus. "I’ve always known Professor Jasson as a very

mild sort of man. Yet that must be an automatic pistol. And is that other instrument a weapon?"

Doc had removed a loaded automatic of large calibre. He was examining the other device. It had the

appearance of an oversize water pistol such as might have been used by a child. But Doc put it carefully

aside.

"If I am not mistaken, this is a gun for spreading poison gas," he said, quietly. "And be careful, Long Tom.

Don’t touch that for a moment."

The bronze man had taken a flat, ebony box from the dead man’s inner pocket. It was a large box to have

been thus carried. A clasp appeared to open by the touching of a spring. "Long Tom" had been about to

unsnap the clasp.

Long Tom, or Major Thomas J. Roberts, one of the world’s best-known electricians, had been helping operate

some of the radio instruments.

Doc picked up the flat box.

"I believe this should have special attention," he advised. "Of all this collection of death-dealing devices, I

suspect this is the most deadly."

Doc filled a shallow glass receptacle with a clear liquid. This was only pure alcohol. Doc’s sleeves were

stripped from his forearms. Tendons of cable-like strength played under his smooth bronze skin.

Immersing the flat ebony case, his thumb flicked the spring of the hasp. The case divided. Its opening was

accompanied by a sibilant, sinister hissing.

"Holy cow!" ejaculated big Renny. "It’s a snake—one of them cobras!"

THE darting, writhing splash of color springing from the flat, ebony case was less than a foot in length. But its

head and neck expanded enormously.

"It is the most poisonous of all the cobra species," stated Doc. "It’s a hamadryad, which does not reach great

size."

The effect of the alcohol was almost instant. The death-dealing hamadryad hissed only once. It struck at the

bronze hand which had released it. But Doc’s movement had been quicker than the cobra’s dart.

Professor Callus gasped a little. It had seemed as if the snake must have buried its fangs in the bronzed

skin.

But the cobra stretched its length and fell back. Then it stretched inertly. The alcohol had overpowered it.

Professor Callus blinked a little and his big head bobbed up and down.

"Professor Jasson must have been overtaken by some form of killing dementia," he commented. "Yet why

would he be coming to your headquarters, Mr. Savage?"

Doc Savage, as was his habit when some great idea was beginning to take shape in his marvelous brain,

said nothing. He moved back beside the corpse on the couch in the library.

The arms of the dead man were sticking out stiffly. His legs were rigid. The face was a cold, blood-drained

mask. The eyes were open and staring.

"Must have been dead some time, the way he felt," said Renny.

Professor Callus was looking at Doc, but he did not see his lips move. But Doc’s companions knew their

bronze leader was on the eve of some important discovery.

"Yes, rigor mortis seems to have set in," said Doc, quietly. "It would mean this Professor Jasson was dead

some hours ago. But the man died within the past half hour."

"Why, that would seem impossible!" said Professor Callus. "I thought rigor mortis would not take place for

from two to five hours?"

"This man has been killed instantly by a poisonous injection," stated Doc. "And rigor mortis was artificially

induced to make it appear he had been dead for some time. He must have been at the door only a short time;

perhaps a few minutes."

Chapter II. WOMAN OF VIOLENCE

WHILE Doc Savage was examining the dead man and finding him so thoroughly equipped for violence, the

ungainly Monk was encountering another form of violence. But this was very much alive. It was in the form of

a slender girl.

The girl’s face would have been beautiful, under normal conditions. But when the young woman encountered

the terrifying figure of Monk before her on the stairway, her countenance was a strained, desperate mask.

The girl was red-headed. The hair was naturally and vividly red. Her deep-brown eyes were sparkling with

menace. Undoubtedly she was scared, but being red-headed, she intended doing something about it.

Monk had been unusually quiet about ascending the stairs. No person had recently descended by elevator.

The arrival of Professor Callus had apparently been the only movement of a passenger to the eighty-sixth

floor.

The red-headed girl must have seen Monk first. The apelike figure of the chemist moved around an upward

turn in the stairs. The Cold steel of an automatic’s snout jammed right into his hairy throat.

"Don’t move!" said a low, tense voice. "You’re him, and I’ll shoot!"

Monk did not know who he was supposed to be. But it seemed plainly evident the girl would shoot. The

automatic’s snout quivered against Monk’s tough hide.

"Howlin’ calamities!" he squealed in his childlike voice. "Where’d you come from? You musta killed that guy

upstairs!"

"I said, don’t move!" repeated the girl. "So you know about the murder? You were trying to get away, and you

heard Barton! Barton! Come on up here!"

The young man called Barton must have been a floor or two below where Monk had started to ascend the

stairs. His feet pounded quickly upward. He was a thick-browed, black-haired young fellow. When he saw the

position of the young woman, his face became very pale.

"Lora!" exclaimed the young man. "Who is he? Wait! Give me the gun!"

The red-headed girl shook her head determinedly.

"You walk behind me, Barton," she directed. "Here, take this. If he makes a break, you’ll have to shoot!"

Monk’s small eyes bulged. The red-headed girl produced another automatic pistol. She pushed it into the

young man’s hands.

"But lady, dag-gone it!" yelped Monk. "Whatcha think you’re doin’? What’s the—"

"Shut up!" snapped the red-headed girl, emphatically. "Now you just march ahead of us up these stairs!

Barton, be sure about the safety catch! Perhaps Mr. Savage will like to see this hoodlum!"

There was a metallic click. Monk knew the sound of a safety catch on an automatic when he heard it. The

weapon had been shifted around to the back of his neck. It was no more reassuring there than it had been

against his throat.

Monk’s short legs jerked. Step by step, he mounted toward the eighty-sixth floor. At the first corridor above,

which happened to be the eighty-fourth, the red-headed girl said, "Wait a minute!"

The automatic continued to bore into his neck. The girl said, "Barton, put this in your pocket!"

The object, Monk saw, was a hypodermic syringe. Monk’s quick-working olfactory sense detected an odor.

He could detect any known chemical almost instantly by smell. His awkward body shivered.

For he had caught what might have been the odor of burned almonds. That hypo must contain hydrocyanic

acid.

THE door of Doc Savage’s headquarters was of plain metal. No lock or knob appeared in view. It might have

been only an indentation in the wall. The red-headed girl halted, still prodding Monk’s neck.

"Barton!" she said. "There must be a buzzer button—"

She ceased speaking. The door was silently opening. At some other time, Monk would have enjoyed this

immensely. The electroscope mechanism in the door had been operated by radio control.

The red-headed girl breathed quickly, but recovered herself.

"Go on in!" she directed. "All right, Barton! You can put away your gun! I can handle him!"

Doc Savage was standing in the door of the library. Neither his features nor his eyes expressed any surprise.

But behind him loomed the sharp features of Ham, the lawyer. Ham let out a delighted yell.

"Now isn’t that somethin’!" he said, sarcastically. "Lady, where did you catch it?"

"Doc" squawked Monk. "Willya tell this redhead to take that gun outta my neck! She’s likely to pull the

trigger!"

"Lady," drawled Ham, maliciously, "go on and pull it. You’ll be doing the world a great service. I’ve always

said some one would get the ape, if he was permitted to run loose much longer."

"Dag-gone you, Ham!" howled Monk. "You quit runnin’ off at the mouth!"

"Holy cow!" boomed big Renny. "An’ Monk brought her up, he says!"

THE red-headed girl seemed to have a disposition like flash powder. The various remarks clearly had her

puzzled. Also they struck an angry spark.

"What’s so funny about all of this?" she demanded. "You’re Mr. Savage?"—she addressed Doc. "Well, I ran

onto this ugly baboon sneaking around on the stairway. I was coming up to see you and—"

"Don’t believe anything the redhead tells you!" interrupted Monk. "I caught her and this other pasty-faced

animal trying to get away, Doc! She’s carryin’ two guns an’ she’s got a hypo loaded with enough poison to kill

a hundred men! She gave it to this guy with her!"

The young woman slowly removed the automatic from Monk’s neck.

"Then he is one of your men, Mr. Savage?" she said with disbelief. "I guess I’ll have to say I’m sorry; I made a

mistake. I’ve heard about the one called Monk, but I didn’t think any human being could look like that."

This elicited another howl from Ham.

"Neither did any one else," grinned the lawyer. "You’ve got good judgment, lady, even if he can’t help it."

"Listen, you danged shyster!" squealed Monk. "I’ll make you eat them words, or they’ll pack you outta here in

pieces!"

Doc Savage disregarded the apparent deadly hate of the chemist and the lawyer.

"There seems to have been some misunderstanding," stated the man of bronze. "Undoubtedly you can

explain your presence here? What is this about a hypo filled with poison?"

The red-headed young woman looked from one to the other of the men. Professor Callus was observing her

closely.

"A hypo of poison?" he said. "Then perhaps my colleague has not been dead as long as it appears, or—"

"If you mean the man who was lying out in the corridor," interrupted the young woman, "I know nothing about

that. I was coming to see Mr. Savage, with my brother. But when we saw the man—the dead man—we

thought perhaps it would not be a good time to enter. We have a hypodermic. I found it stuck into the wall of

the stairway between this floor and the one next below." Doc did not say whether he believed or disbelieved

the young woman.

"You had some definite purpose in coming to me?" he said.

"Yes, oh, yes!" exclaimed the red-headed girl. "You see Mr. Savage, I am Lora Krants. This is my brother,

Barton. We were informed you were seeking the cause of some unusual oceanic upheaval."

"That is correct," stated Doc Savage.

Behind him, Ham murmured to Renny, "And I thought this thing was somewhat of a government secret."

"Then you are the daughter of Cyrus Krants," said Doc, instantly. "We are indebted to your father for many

discoveries of importance. His new form of bathosphere has penetrated to unusual depths of the ocean."

"Oh, I’m glad you do know about him!" said the girl. "We have been told you are informed on nearly all

subjects. So perhaps you can give us some information that will help."

The young woman had spoken the truth. There were few subjects on which Doc Savage was not fully

informed.

"If you will tell me in what way I can be of assistance," Doc suggested.

The red-headed girl spoke more softly and with deep feeling.

"It’s about my father," she said. "He has been missing now for more than a week. The last word we had was

a radio message from his yacht in the vicinity of the lower Florida Keys."

"Yes?" said Doc. "We will go into that in just a moment, Miss Krants. Long Tom, you and Renny had better

continue checking at once on the radio short waves. If you can fix the latitude and longitude of the

broadcasting blind spot, I’m sure we will be getting close to something."

Doc then spoke again to the red-headed girl.

"And if you’ll permit Monk here to examine that hypodermic, we then may know the character of the poison

which probably has been employed for murder."

"You’ll have to trust the big ape," suggested Ham, dryly. "He is good for one thing, Miss Krants, and that’s

why we keep him around."

Monk glared speechlessly. Now that her first fear and her anger had subsided, Lora Krants was undeniably a

very pretty young woman. Monk was extremely susceptible.

"That is strange about your father," said Professor Callus. "I am quite well acquainted with him, Miss Krants.

But I never had the pleasure of meeting his daughter, or his son."

"Tell us more about this radio message," suggested Doc.

"THERE isn’t much more to tell," said Lora Krants. "More than a week ago, we had a radio message. It

seems the boat engines were disabled then for no reason the engineer could discover. And another message

said that while the trouble was being traced, the motors suddenly resumed functioning."

"And you have not heard from the yacht since then?" questioned Doc. "No radio or other messages?"

"None, Mr. Savage. The yacht seems to have vanished. We have wired all possible ports."

"I imagine he may be all right," said the man of bronze. "How did you know of the work we are doing?"

"I have a friend employed in the Coast and Geodetic Survey," said the red-headed girl.

Monk appeared in the door of the laboratory.

"It’s hydrocyanic, and plenty of it!" he said. "And the needle has traces of human blood. It has been used

recently."

Doc Savage’s short, trilling note suddenly startled the girl and her brother. Barton Krants had taken no part in

the conversation. His dark eyes had glowered at every one.

The young man seemed to have a suspicion his sister might not get fair treatment. Only when he looked at

Doc Savage was there any hint of friendliness in his features. And his face remained too white and pasty to

be natural.

Professor Callus apparently had taken a deep interest in the young woman. He moved to her side and

engaged her in conversation.

Long Tom came to the door of the library.

"Doc, I believe we’ve got it," he announced. "We’ve eliminated everything but the blind spot in the short wave

radio contacts. It fixes an approximate latitude and longitude."

Chapter III. THE ABDUCTED COMMISSION

"COME into the laboratory," invited Doc Savage. "You will be interested in what we may have discovered."

It had been odd that Doc had made little further comment on the manner of Professor Jasson’s death. Nor

had he as yet informed the police. The body had been covered in the library.

Miss Krants and her brother joined Professor Callus in the laboratory. The professor’s eyes gleamed with

appreciative interest.

"This is a treat," he said. "I’ve heard much of your equipment, Mr. Savage."

Doc Savage produced several sets of earphones.

"If you will listen," he said, "you will hear that which has upset the officials of the Coast Survey. Were it more

pronounced, it might be mistaken for the ordinary rumble of some undersea earthquake. But the seismograph

has not responded."

Doc explained, after they had listened to that faint murmuring. It was a sound distinctly of the sea. It might

have been that peculiar roaring effect produced when a conch shell is held over one ear.

The instruments showed there had been no unusual weather anywhere. The atmospheric conditions remained

normal practically all over the world.

"But something has been happening," said Long Tom, the electrical wizard. "Our own radio waves encounter

a blind spot at intervals."

"And it seems to come from the depths of the ocean itself," explained Doc Savage. "It is unlike anything the

Coast Survey has ever previously encountered. I have been unable to trace it to any manifestation of nature."

THEIR conversation was interrupted by the sharp buzzing of the telephone. Doc took the call in the presence

of the others. The voice came over long distance.

"This is the President of the United States speaking," came to Doc. "It is important that you come to

Washington at once, for a confidential communication."

"I understand," stated Doc. "What have you heard from the commission?"

There was a few seconds hesitation. Then the president spoke again.

"That is part of it," he said, gravely. "The commission has not reached Calais. The steamship Trafalgar

Square has not been reported for more than twelve hours. The other part of it is too fantastic for belief."

"I shall communicate with you when I arrive," was Doc’s quiet reply. "The news you give confirms a thought

that may be of some importance."

His thought was indeed of the most serious importance. Mention of the commission was mingled with a

growing conviction on the part of the bronze adventurer. The dead man outside his door had pointed directly to

something new, some human agency connected with all this strange business of the haunted ocean.

The armament of this dead man, Professor Jasson, was indisputable evidence that Doc Savage’s present

work was unwanted by some one. It seemed clear enough that a reputedly mild little professor had arrived at

Doc’s headquarters for the purpose of killing, if necessary, and most certainly with the idea of destroying the

bronze man’s extensive equipment.

THE report of the disappearance of a commission on its way to Calais was of the greatest significance. Doc

Savage was among the very few persons who knew of the commission. It might have been correctly called a

"war commission."

But its real mission was to end war. That is, the greater nations of the world had decided on the most

powerful of all treaties.

This was to be a pact that would include not disarmament of any nation, but the immediate super-armament

of the six member nations against all others. Six governments had decided the time had come for them to

take a stand for peace against the world.

In brief, they were planning such powerful navies, air fleets and armies as to make a war threat from others

impossible. The six great nations had decided to become world police.

Doc Savage had much more than a general interest in this war commission to end war. William Harper

Littlejohn, better known as "Johnny," the archaeologist and geologist of Doc’s group, was one of the

commission.

The six war commissioners had been in London. They were preparing to meet with representatives of other

nations at Washington within a short period. The commission had boarded the steamer Trafalgar Square for

the crossing of the English Channel from Dover to Calais. That crossing should have required only a few short

hours.

Now there had been no radio report of the Trafalgar Square for more than twelve hours. There had been no S

O S alarm. The weather had been of the calmest for that usually stormy channel.

Yet the Trafalgar Square, one of the newest and safest of Channel vessels, had disappeared.

Doc checked over in his mind the members of the commission.

Johnny, for the present at least, was representing the United States. The others were Sir Arthur Westcott,

Great Britain; Baron Calosa, Italy; Monsieur Lamont, France; Herr Schumann, Germany, and Señor Torron,

Spain.

DOC SAVAGE confronted the others. He spoke first to Professor Callus and Miss Krants.

"We have been honored by your interest," he announced. "You are at liberty to remain while Renny and Long

Tom make further observations."

Then he issued quick directions.

"Renny, you and Long Tom will confirm as closely as possible the locale you already have fixed. Monk and

Ham will accompany me. We will be gone for only a few hours."

Drawing Renny to one side in the library, Doc added instructions unheard by the others.

"For the present, you will not notify the police of the dead man," Doc advised. "But the circumstances are

such, it might be advisable to be sure that Miss Krants is safely escorted to her home. Also, it is possible

you will have other visitors who will be interested in what you are doing. Treat them with every courtesy."

"Holy cow!" muttered Renny. "And all this was confidential stuff between us and the Coast Survey! There’s a

screw loose somewhere, Doc!"

"There may be several, but that will develop," was all the man of bronze explained.

Acting on Doc’s instructions, Ham and Monk were fully armed when they left the skyscraper headquarters.

Which might have seemed unusual for what could hardly be other than a fast airplane trip to the national

capital.

In Doc’s special armored sedan, the three sped rapidly toward what to most persons appeared to be only a

little-used warehouse on the Hudson River. This bore the simple sign:

HIDALGO TRADING COMPANY

The warehouse was a set of hangars housing the world’s most modern and remarkable planes, dirigible and

submarine.

At headquarters, Renny and Long Tom continued their checking of the instruments.

"The blind spot," announced Long Tom, "is somewhere in the vicinity of Norway, in the North Sea."

"Remarkable!" commented Professor Callus.

Chapter IV. THE MYSTERY GROWS

"I’VE lost Doc!" exclaimed Renny, suddenly. "Now what’s gone haywire with that radio?"

Long Tom, Professor Callus, Lora Krants and her brother pushed forward with eager interest. Doc’s plane was

already somewhere south of Baltimore, following the coast line. Renny had been keeping in touch with them

by short wave.

Doc had replied only briefly to Renny’s inquiries. Renny had started to report an apparent change in the

locale of the ocean disturbance. Then the radio speaker had squealed and squawked. After sporadic bursts, it

functioned imperfectly.

"Funny!" ejaculated Long Tom. "Have a look at the light recorders!"

The needles in circles at the ends of long steel cylinders were oscillating rapidly. These were recording the

refraction and gyration of light atoms over a wide area of the ocean. Despite the absence of the sun, light

appeared to be increasing over a considerable section.

"Doc!" boomed Renny into the broadcasting mike. "Can you hear me?"

"Um-bum-bum-bul-um!"

hummed the speaker.

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HAUNTEDOCEANADocSavageAdventurebyKennethRobesonThispagecopyright©2001BlackmaskOnline.http://www.blackmask.com?ChapterI.DEADMANATTHEDOOR?ChapterII.WOMANOFVIOLENCE?ChapterIII.THEABDUCTEDCOMMISSION?ChapterIV.THEMYSTERYGROWS?ChapterV.THESTRANGEREDHEAD?ChapterVI.DAWNATMIDNIGHT?ChapterVII.THEWORLDTHREAT?C...

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