Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 074 - World's Fair Goblin

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WORLD’S FAIR GOBLIN
A Doc Savage Adventure by Kenneth Robeson
This page copyright © 2001 Blackmask Online.
http://www.blackmask.com
? Chapter I. THE MEN THE GOBLIN GOT
? Chapter II. HIDDEN TRAIL
? Chapter III. GOBLIN
? Chapter IV. GARGOYLE ON THE ROOF
? Chapter V. MAN WITH THE SCAR
? Chapter VI. THE THING CHUCKLES
? Chapter VII. MONK’S MEMORY IMPROVES
? Chapter VIII. LONESOME
? Chapter IX. CURTAIN CALL
? Chapter X. DEATH WITHOUT MUSIC
? Chapter XI. STRANGE EYES
? Chapter XII. ONE-WAY EXIT
? Chapter XIII. ADAM ASH IS MISSING
? Chapter XIV. STORM CLOUDS GATHERING
? Chapter XV. STAIRWAY TO DOOM
? Chapter XVI. MAD MENACE
? Chapter XVII. THE GENERATOR STARTS
? Chapter XVIII. UNMASKED FIEND
? Chapter XIX. DEATH STRIKES HIGH UP
Chapter I. THE MEN THE GOBLIN GOT
MAYBE there is nothing to superstition. Maybe it just happened to be the thirteenth day of the World’s
Fair in New York City. The Fair management spent hundreds of thousands of dollars for publicity to let
the universe know that this World’s Fair was big, bigger, biggest. It covered more acres of ground,
offered more means of amusement, had more scientific exhibits. It was worthy of that worn-out
word—colossal.
To give some idea:
Doc Savage—scientific man of mystery, muscular marvel, also reported to be an amazing person in other
ways—was to give a series of demonstrations of ultramodern surgical skill. Ordinarily, such an event
would have been printed on the front pages of the newspapers in the United States, and cabled abroad.
But this time, it was just a part of the World’s Fair daily program.
Incidentally, Doc Savage’s first surgical demonstration by mere chance happened to be scheduled for the
thirteenth day after the opening of the Fair, which was the day the goblin walked.
Additionally, the Doc Savage demonstration was given before a convention of surgeons and doctors
exclusively, which disappointed a lot of people who had heard that the lifework of Doc Savage was
really righting wrongs and punishing evildoers in various parts of the earth, a career that had led the Man
of Bronze, as he was sometimes called, into some fantastic adventures.
The public had heard that Doc Savage did fantastic things, and it would have liked to see a
demonstration of some fantastic feats. But Doc Savage had a great dislike for publicity, and he never cut
capers for the public’s entertainment.
However, the goblin getting loose was not the first mysterious thing that happened.
Two men had disappeared. That was the initial mystery.
On another day prior to this thirteenth day after the opening of the World’s Fair, two hundred thousand
visitors paid admission. Exactly two hundred thousand. And exactly two less than that came out.
They had automatic mechanical checking turnstiles at all the gates, and a head gatekeeper whose job was
collecting the figures. The head gatekeeper saw from the readings that two less people came out than
went in. He decided one of the mechanical contraptions had made a mistake. He was wrong.
Two people went into the Fair grounds and never came out—and it wasn’t any mistake of any
mechanical contraption.
The goblin got them.
THE white-haired man in the long rubber apron, when he appeared, acted as if the goblins were after
him, too.
The white-haired man was Professor Martin Uppercue, reported to be one of the world’s greatest
scientists. His specialty was electrotherapeutics—he had discovered some remarkable things about how
diseases of the human body would react to electrical treatment.
He was a small man, thin, with thick white hair on top of a large head. He made you think of the type of
musician slangily called a "long-haired boy."
There was nothing long-haired or old-fashioned about his scientific discoveries. He was fifty years ahead
of his time, maybe a hundred. Men of science knew Uppercue as a quiet-mannered, soft-voiced person
with keenly bright-blue eyes and a sedate deportment. Especially sedate. He was always dignified.
There was nothing sedate about the way Professor Martin Uppercue came out of his laboratory. Nor
dignified, either.
Professor Uppercue’s laboratory was situated near the center of the Fair Grounds close to the huge ball
of a structure called the Perisphere. It was only a few yards from the laboratory to the landscaped
gardens along the Court of Communications. Professor Uppercue dashed wildly into this garden, which
was crowded with people.
The natural first thought was that Professor Uppercue was chasing something.
As soon as they saw his face, they knew he was not chasing anything. His face showed terror. His eyes
popped until they looked like small saucers stuck, bottoms out, on his face.
He ran headlong, knocking astounded people out of his way. There was blood on his face, quite a bit of
it. His mouth was also open, open like the mouth of a dog that has been backed into a corner and is
being whipped.
Professor Uppercue wheeled his head in different directions as he ran. He seemed to be looking
everywhere, hoping, it was suddenly apparent, for a place to which to flee. He was carrying two articles.
One object that he carried seemed to be his laboratory apron. It was a long rubber apron and he had it in
his left hand.
The second item was carried in his right hand, and it was more unusual. It was a cylinder, apparently
made of aluminum. It was about three inches in diameter and as long as an average man’s arm, and
capped at each end.
He kept running, and glaring about in search of some place to run to.
There did not seem to be anything chasing him.
The crowd made the natural mistake. They decided that Professor Martin Uppercue had gone insane. So
an effort was commenced to seize the madman.
The attempt to seize Professor Uppercue failed, but it did accomplish two things.
A man snatched Professor Uppercue’s rubber apron, and kept it, and later turned it over to the proper
authorities, and it proved very important.
Secondly, they learned something about that aluminumlike cylinder that Professor Uppercue carried. He
whacked different people over the head with it—the thing was light, and did not greatly damage the
recipients of the blows. But several persons were able to testify that a whispering sound came from inside
the cylinder.
The sound from inside the cylinder was generally described as a whisper. One man testified it was more
like the scuffling of a shoe across a bare floor.
Professor Uppercue got away and ran. He clutched the mysterious aluminumlike tube with both arms.
THE flamboyant heart of the Fair Grounds had been called the Theme Center. Here was locked the
great spherical Perisphere that was like a mammoth white tennis ball two hundred feet in diameter, from
around its base shooting upward great sprays of water that made it appear the huge ball of steel was
floating on a fountain, and circling these fountains was a white, circular promenade bordered by heavy
shrubs and foliage.
Professor Uppercue dived into this expensively landscaped brush patch.
There were two impressive structures in this Theme Center. One, of course, was the globular
Perisphere—the two-hundred-foot white tennis ball of a thing. The other impressive item was the Trylon,
a spike of steel seven hundred feet high coming to a needle point at the top. The minds that conceived the
theme of the Fair had been unable to imagine anything more modernistic than this ball-shaped Perisphere
and the needle-shaped Trylon, and the two were connected by a rising ramp—a wide sidewalk that
spiraled up under the base of the massive ball of steel.
When Professor Uppercue next was seen, he was streaking along this ramp.
He now seemed hardly able to run. He was an elderly man, unused to much physical activity, and the
wild running already had him near exhaustion. Once he banked into the side banister of the rising ramp,
but he kept going. He was headed for the point where the elevated structure entered one side of the
towering Trylon.
The Fair police—the Fair cops wore neat uniforms similar to the New York State troopers—and
members of the crowd now set out in pursuit of Professor Uppercue. The crazed scientist—and the
impression that everyone now held was that the scientist was insane—had a head start.
A number of people distinctly saw Professor Uppercue disappear into the Trylon.
A few moments later the police and more fleet-footed members of the crowd arrived at the Trylon.
Everyone was wheezing from the terrific race up the incline. Puffing pursuers crowded into the Trylon.
There was gloom about them, strange modernistic semitwilight. Stretching upward until it disappeared in
the needle point several hundred feet above their heads, was the silent network of steel girders which
supported the great Trylon. The spot where the pursuers stood was a platform built approximately a
hundred feet above the spire’s three-sided base.
"Where’d he go?" a man yelled.
They had all become aware of a strange sound—noise as if several carpenters had gone to work
simultaneously sawing boards.
"Where’d he go!"
The words literally crashed back at them. Everyone jumped, shocked by the increased volume, the
impact of the sound.
"Great grief!" a man muttered. "Some echoes."
The sound illusion of carpenters sawing wood, they realized now, was the noise of their own breathing
that had traveled upward into the space, and sounded back greatly magnified by the unusual acoustics of
the Trylon.
A cop explained, "It’s the way the place is built, I guess. But where’d that nut go to?"
"Search me!" grumbled another cop.
They did not search him, but they did search the Trylon—those parts of it where it seemed conceivable
that a man might be hidden—and then went over the surrounding grounds.
There was no trace of Professor Martin Uppercue or his aluminumlike cylinder.
THEN the goblin walked.
It happened not over fifteen minutes later. Immediately surrounding the Theme Center of the Fair—the
huge ball of the Perisphere and spike of the Trylon—were the most important buildings, which housed
exhibits having to do with branches of modern science. These structures were large and, of course,
modernistic. They were brilliantly colored, for color was the theme of this vast World’s Fair, if one was
to believe the words of the men who had conceived the thing.
Prominent among the centrally located Fair buildings was the Hall of Mines.
It was inside the Hall of Mines that the goblin walked.
Men and women spectators began to come out of the Hall of Mines, yelping at every jump. They were
frightened. Not as scared as Professor Martin Uppercue had been, but almost.
A Fair cop grabbed one of the runners. "What’s gone wrong now?"
The man jerked a thumb at the Hall of Mines. "Dud-dud-dud-damnedest thing in there!"
The cop ran in to see. The Hall of Mines was an enormous structure, well-lighted; it contained exhibits
intended to depict the progress of mining and metallurgy from the beginning of things down to the present.
There were hundreds of exhibits and as many scared people. A great deal of confusion, in fact.
The cop jumped on top of an ore-processing mill where he could be seen.
"What’s going on here?" he yelled.
"Over here," voices told him. "In the mine!"
The mine they referred to was a reproduction of one of the famous gold shafts of the old West. It had
been a popular spot, for the artists who had created it had done a very lifelike job. The shaft sloped into
an embankment and disappeared into the depths of the earth. There were shovels and picks stacked
about.
If the mine shaft had unexpectedly turned into a tiger den, the vicinity could not have been more deserted.
The cop planted himself in front of the shaft. He did not know what to think.
"It come out," someone yelled for his information. "Then it went back in again."
"What did?"
"It looked like a hobgoblin."
"A what?"
"You get a look at the thing," the informant told the cop, "and you’ll understand."
At this point, the cop heard the sound—and the short hairs on the back of his neck began to want to get
up on end. The noise came from the mine shaft. It was a whimpering, a hoarse throat-tearing whimper.
The cop rubbed a hand over his head to make his hair lie down again.
"Hell, that’s a dog!" he said. "There’s just a stray dog in there."
The cop got a flashlight and a gun and three other cops and went into the shaft. It was very dark. At
various points in the old mine, there stood wax figures of miners and these wax men were equipped with
miners’ caps which bore lights—electric lights that imitated the old-time miner’s kerosene lamp. It was
observed that none of these lamps were lighted; and the current seemed to be off.
"It was a dog, of course," the cop said, although they had not seen any.
"The people who saw it don’t describe any dog," another cop told him.
"Listen, I’ll show you. I’ll call the dog. Here, doggie—here, doggie—"
That cop never called another dog again. As long as he lived, his vocal chords would freeze when he
started to call a dog—because he could not help remembering what he got when he called this dog.
It was probably eight feet high. It was not that wide. It had arms, legs, body. It had eyes that were great
and awful, and it had strength that was the most awful of all.
They saw it only an instant, not very clearly at that, for it hurled rocks at them, boulders as large as
barrels.
The policemen fled around the corner.
When the policemen had gathered their courage—and ten more cops and four submachine guns, riot
equipment and tear gas—they advanced. They found nothing.
No goblin, no way the goblin could have gotten out. No nothing.
Chapter II. HIDDEN TRAIL
RUNNING north and east from the Theme Center of the Fair—the spot where the Perisphere and
Trylon were located—were broad avenues and malls branching out like the spokes of a wheel.
The Hall of Medicine was on one of these spokes. It was a long, yellow-colored structure just north of
the circular walk bordering the mammoth Perisphere. Inside was the operating amphitheater, built like a
small theater, with circular tiers of seats forming an observers’ balcony. Seated tense and silent, white
masks over their own faces, visiting medical men watched in awe. They were seeing one of the most
amazing things of their lives.
Other than the weird panting sounds that came from a mechanical device that looked similar to a
punching bag, located near the head of the operating table, there was no other sound. That bag pulsated
as oxygen mixed with anesthesia was fed to a small, still form on the white operating table—the figure of
a boy from the slums of New York.
A tumor was being removed from the boy’s brain. It was a type of operation never done before.
Motion-picture cameras whirred, recording the procedure.
Above that still form only the surgeon’s eyes were visible. Amazing eyes. The eyes were magnetic, and
like restless pools of rich flake gold. Set well apart, they were compelling and clear, holding the attention
of each assistant. No words were spoken. Instead, those eyes directed, gave almost a sharp command
when a nurse was a fraction of a second too slow. There was need for swift, sure speed. Remainder of
his face was hidden behind a mask of white.
In the observers’ balcony, a doctor whispered to a colleague.
"This particular penetration of the ethmoid cribriform has never been accomplished to date. Bet you he
don’t make it!"
The second doctor said softly, "But that surgeon is Doc Savage!"
"Sure, but the boy’s been on the table a half hour now."
It did not seem to those seated above in the tiers that the figure of Doc Savage was unusually large.
Standing alone, the bronze man’s size was deceptive, which was perhaps caused by the symmetry of his
physical development—so well proportioned that he seemed no taller than an average six-foot man. But
whenever a nurse, who was tall herself, came close, his unusual size was evident. Doc Savage was a
physical giant.
Close over Doc Savage’s head, a cluster of round operating-room lights sent down powerful light.
A doctor seated in the topmost tier whispered, "Listen!"
Everyone could hear the commotion. An excited man had stopped to yell at the doorman, probably not
realizing what a serious thing was going on inside.
"A scientist named Uppercue went crazy, and they’re huntin’ ‘im!" the man yelled. "And they saw some
kind of a goblin in the Hall of Mines!"
The skeptical doctors in the tiers breathed, "Good Lord. He’ll never pull that lad through now. That’ll
distract him."
At the operating table, the nurses jerked worried glances toward Doc Savage. But apparently the bronze
man had not heard a sound. His capable fingers moved swiftly. His hypnotic gaze flicked to the tiny
instruments in the nurses’ hands, indicating them as he needed them. For the first time, he made a direct
statement.
"Almost through," he said.
But then the cluster of brilliant operating table lights overhead went out.
ONE nurse could not suppress her cry of horror as the big operating amphitheater with only small
windows high above, was thrown into gloom down where Doc Savage was working. The bronze man
was ready to suture—sew up—the incision close to the boy’s brain. One slip now—
A nurse leaped to a wall phone, frantically called the engineer’s room in the basement of the Hall of
Medicine, announced, "Something mysterious caused the transformers to burn out."
Doc Savage ordered quietly, "Watch the oxygen closely." He stepped swiftly from the room. He always
tried to foresee emergencies; there was a flashlight in his equipment case outside in the sterilizing room.
He came back in a moment and passed the light to the assistant.
"Hold it steady."
Doc Savage’s flake-gold eyes never left the small incision that meant life or death to the small boy on the
table; his swift hands made delicate movements, until finally he straightened, said quietly, "See that he has
absolute quiet. I shall see him later."
Not until the table with the still form was wheeled from the darkened room, did the famous specialists
and surgeons applaud the bronze man’s work. The applause was a roar. Only the greatest of them really
knew what an amazing feat they had witnessed.
Doc Savage, unmoved by the applause, was taking off the operating gown, white skull cap and facial
mask.
Most of the visiting medical men had never seen Doc Savage before he appeared in the room. They
stared, for this Doc Savage was a man of amazing physical appearance.
His bronze hair was a shade darker than the bronze man’s skin, and it lay flat and smooth, while his
mouth was muscular and strong without being severe. Strong facial lines showed power of character.
Doc Savage said, "What was that interruption—about Uppercue?"
The bronze man’s voice—calm, yet with a repressed power and tonal inflection that were
remarkable—held the attention of everyone, though Doc was only addressing the assistant doctor at his
side.
The assistant had unmasked also. It could be seen that the assistant was a young, good-looking man with
slender height and delicate features. His hair was straw-blond.
The assistant was Dr. Alexis Mandroff—in charge of the clinic here—and he had willingly offered his
services to Doc Savage in performing this operation to demonstrate a method that would save thousands
of lives in the future.
Dr. Mandroff replied, "It must be something terrible, sir."
An attendant put in, "I just phoned to find out. They say Professor Uppercue is in trouble or something.
They’re trying to catch him—"
"Catch him?" Doc asked.
"They say he was acting insane."
There were gasps of dismay, for many of these men knew the famous scientist, Uppercue.
To Dr. Mandroff, Doc said, "See that the printed booklet of the operation procedure is distributed. Also
see that each person gets a copy of the motion-picture film."
Dr. Mandroff nodded. "Da," he said. He meant, "Yes."
The bronze giant moved toward the exit. A nurse handed him his coat. As he stood in the doorway, his
shoulders almost filled the space.
Dr. Mandroff hurried after the bronze man.
"You were wonderful, sir," he exclaimed. "I’ve done some work along that line myself, but never anything
like you accomplished just now."
If Doc Savage was flattered, he showed no outward indication. Instead, he said, "Any written questions
they submit will be answered."
"Perhaps I should go with you," Dr. Mandroff offered. "Professor Uppercue is a friend of mine—"
Doc shook his head. "You stay with the patient, doctor."
The bronze man showed respect for the young, handsome Dr. Mandroff, who had recently arrived from
Russia, and was said to be an amazingly clever surgeon who was at the World’s Fair to study newest
developments in medical science.
DOC SAVAGE went to investigate the mystery of what had happened to Uppercue.
After a few brief questions, Doc knew all that had happened. He learned about the peculiar metal
cylinder. The Fair police gave him Uppercue’s lab apron, said, "A lot of help this thing is."
They did not realize that the apron was the one clue to Professor Uppercue’s trail.
"What about this aluminum cylinder?" Doc asked.
"It made whispering sounds."
"What?"
"Well, that’s just what somebody said."
The Fair cops now came from the mine tunnel to tell of the goblin.
"You’re crazy!" they were told.
"Maybe it sounds like that. But half a dozen of us saw that thing."
"What you saw were shadows from your flashlights."
"I suppose shadows can throw rocks that weigh two hundred pounds?"
Doc Savage decided to look in the one place that seemed to have been passed up—Professor
Uppercue’s laboratory, the spot from whence Uppercue had started on his wild flight. Looking at the
rubber apron in his hands, the bronze man had noted something.
Blood smears, and long hairs stuck to the inner side of the lab apron.
It seemed sensible to learn the cause of Uppercue’s flight.
The door at the top of the steps down which Uppercue had plunged from his laboratory was still open.
Inside, more steel steps led downward in a steep flight, ending in a long, narrow corridor with only a
single dim light at the far end—a passageway that was all of a hundred feet in length.
Moving through the underground passage, Doc Savage—his sense of direction was
well-developed—knew that he must be somewhere beneath the huge Perisphere. The corridor ended at
a heavy-paneled door, and this was also open. The bronze man had to duck as he entered the room
beyond.
He was now in a modern laboratory, well-lighted, and containing many of the newest scientific inventions.
Doc Savage recognized gadgets that were still supposed to be in experimental state. A scientist himself,
he appreciated these machines that Uppercue had designed.
On a workbench nearby was a small model of a generator, and something familiar about the machine
held the bronze man’s attention for a moment. Then, his observing eyes moved to other objects in the
room.
It was blood on the floor that suddenly absorbed his attention. He bent down. His eyes always sought
things easily overlooked, such as long reddish hairs that were stuck in these bloodstains. They were the
same kind of hairs that had been caught on the rubber lab apron.
The red smears led to another, smaller doorway across the room, an opening that was like the heavy
steel entrance to a vault. There was a lever that worked massive lock tumblers. The door was open.
Light came from somewhere beyond.
Doc Savage moved forward, and was surprised when he saw what lay past that vault door. Another
laboratory. Even greater than the first one. There was a high-domed ceiling, and heavy pieces of
machinery made the place look like an electrical powerhouse. Nothing was in operation, though the place
was fully lighted. The blood trail stopped at the threshold to this larger room—as though someone had
been dragged as far as the doorway and then picked up.
A small sound now came from the Man of Bronze, a sound that was a thrilling, low, exotic, as soft as a
tropical wind filtering through jungle growth at night; it seemed to emanate from everywhere, yet
nowhere, although actually it came from the bronze man’s throat, and was a sound he unconsciously
made in moments of mental excitement.
It was very strange that Professor Uppercue should have such elaborate laboratories here at the
Fair—but Doc’s trailing was not the result of that. Nor of seeing the blood trail. Instead, he felt the
presence of someone watching him. A slight sound, probably. He stood very still, listening. Then he
moved toward a massive machine, located in one darkened corner.
Someone—something—had moved behind that towering piece of steel and gears. The bronze man’s
footsteps were soundless as he reached the spot and worked his way carefully along one side of the
machine.
He heard a faint swishing sound. It could have been the noise a huge person makes when trying to move
a foot cautiously. The floor here was cement, and the touch of a heavy foot—no matter how
careful—would make such a sound.
Doc Savage was inches away from the rear of the machine now. There was concealing space back there
between the wall and the object he was circling.
In one final movement, his muscles, like steel cables, sent him around to the rear of the machine. He got a
grip and dragged the skulker out.
It was a small blue-eyed girl who cried, "Wait! Wait!"
Chapter III. GOBLIN
SUCH a small and delicate girl—nicely curved, though—might be expected to be frightened and
helpless, especially when swooped down upon by such a giant as Doc Savage. But this one wasn’t. She
had a small oval face, perky chin, the kind of blue eyes that brought thoughts of the sea at dusk. The eyes
were bright and alert, for she was mad.
She kicked, clawed with one hand, stamped at Doc’s feet with pointed heels.
"Let me go!"
Her right hand was behind her, as though clutching for support to something at the rear of the machine.
Doc asked, "What are you hiding behind you?"
The girl with the wide blue eyes fought harder for a moment, then stopped suddenly, defeated by the
bronze man’s strength. She stamped her small foot again.
摘要：

WORLD’SFAIRGOBLINADocSavageAdventurebyKennethRobesonThispagecopyright©2001BlackmaskOnline.http://www.blackmask.com?ChapterI.THEMENTHEGOBLINGOT?ChapterII.HIDDENTRAIL?ChapterIII.GOBLIN?ChapterIV.GARGOYLEONTHEROOF?ChapterV.MANWITHTHESCAR?ChapterVI.THETHINGCHUCKLES?ChapterVII.MONK’SMEMORYIMPROVES?Chapte...

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