Pandemonium fell upon the gangsters. They rasped excited orders. They actually squealed as though they were already caught.
One man saw the giant bronze figure of Doc Savage heave up from the floor. He fired his pistol. But he was a little slow. Doc evaded the bullets. He reached the light switch, punched it.
Darkness clapped down upon the room.
'De cops are inside!' Doc yelled in the guard's voice. 'We gotta lam, quick!'
To make sure they fled in the right direction, Doc glided over and kicked the glass out of the window.
'Dis way out!' he barked.
A thug sprang through the window. Another followed. Then a succession of them.
Standing near by, Doc darted his hands against such faces as he could find in the black void. Three men he touched in this manner. Each of the three instantly dropped unconscious.
The others escaped from the room in a surprisingly short space of time.
Doc listened. He heard both sedan engines roar into life. The cars streaked away like noisy comets.
INTO THE room where Doc Savage stood there now penetrated a weird sound. It was low, mellow, trilling. It was exotic enough to be the song of some strange bird of the jungle, or the eerie note of wind filtering through a jungled forest. It was melodious, though it had no tune; it was inspiring, without being awesome.
This sound had the peculiar quality of seeming to arise from everywhere within the shabby room, rather than from a definite spot.
This trilling note was part of Doc — a small, unconscious thing which he did in moments of emotion. It would come from his lips as some plan of action was being arranged. Sometimes it precoursed a master stroke which made all things certain. Or it might sound to bring hope to some beleaguered member of Doc's adventuresome group.
Once in a while it came when Doc was a bit pleased with himself. That was the reason for it sounding now.
Doc turned on the lights. He lined up the thugs he had made unconscious.
Eleven of them! It was not a bad haul.
Doc used the phone to call Ham at the scraper aerie uptown.
'You might bring your sedan down here,' Doc requested. Ten minutes later, Ham came up the rickety stairs, twiddling his sword cane. Ham's perfection of attire was made more pronounced by the blowsy surroundings. He saw the pile of sleeping prisoners.
'I see you've been collecting!' he chuckled.
'Did you get anything out of Keelhaul de Rosa's man?' Doc asked.
'I scared him into talking,' Ham said grimly, 'but the fellow was just a hired gunman, Doc. He and his gang were hired to get Victor Vail. They were to deliver the blind violinist to Keelhaul de Rosa, right enough. But the delivery was to be made on the street. The man had no idea where Keelhaul de Rosa hangs out.'
'That's too bad,' Doc replied. 'There's a chance one of the crew who attacked Victor Vail outside the concert hall will know where the sailorman hangs out. If they do, Monk'll make them cough up.'
The unconscious thugs were now loaded into Ham's limousine. This car of Ham's was one of the most elaborate and costly in the city. Ham went in for the finest in automobiles, just as he did in clothes.
Ham did not ask Doc what they were going to do with the prisoners. He already knew. The senseless criminals would be taken to Doc's skyscraper office. In a day or so, men would call for them, and take them to a mysterious institution hidden away in the mountains of upstate New York. There they would undergo a treatment which would turn them into honest, upright citizens.
This treatment consisted of a delicate brain operation which wiped out all knowledge of their past. Then the men would be taught like children, with an emphasis on honesty and good citizenship. They would learn a trade. Turned out into the world again, they were highly desirable citizens — for they knew of their own past, and had been taught to hate criminality.
The mysterious institution where this good, if somewhat unconventional, work went forward, was supported by Doc Savage. The great surgeons and psychologists who ran it had been trained by Doc.
Ham drove his limousine to the skyscraper which held Doc's headquarters. The unconscious thugs were loaded in Doc's special elevator. The cage raced them up at terrific speed to the eighty-sixth floor.
Dragging along several of his unconscious prisoners, Ham behind him, Doc entered his office.
Surprise brought him up short.
Blind Victor Vail sat in the office!
Chapter 5
GONE AGAIN
DOC SAVAGE instantly noted a slight reek of chloroform about the sightless musician.
Otherwise, Victor Vail seemed undamaged.
'I am glad you are here, Mr. Savage,' he said eagerly.
Like many blind men, it was obvious Victor Vail could identify individuals by their footsteps. Doc's firm tread was quite distinctive.
'What on earth happened to you?' Doc demanded.
'I was seized by thugs in the employ of Keelhaul de Rosa.'
'I knew that,' Doc explained. 'What I mean is — how do you happen to be back here, alive and unharmed?'
Victor Vail touched his white hair with long, sensitive hands. His intelligent face registered great bewilderment.
'That is a mystery I do not understand myself,' he murmured. 'I was chloroformed. I must have been unconscious a considerable time. When I awakened, I was lying upon the sidewalk far uptown. I had a passer-by hail a taxi, and came here.'
'You don't know what happened to you beyond that?'
'No. Except that my undershirt was missing.'
'What?'
'My undershirt was gone. Why any one should want to steal it, I cannot imagine.'
Doc considered.
'Possibly your captors removed your clothing to get a look at your back, and forgot the undershirt when they dressed you again.'
'But why would they look at my back?'
'I was thinking of the incident you mentioned as occurring more than fifteen years ago,' Doc replied. ''When you awakened after the alleged destruction of the liner Oceanic in the arctic regions, you said there was a strange smarting in your back.'
Victor Vail stirred his white hair with big fingers. 'I must say I am baffled. But why do you say alleged destruction of the Oceanic?'
'Because there is no proof it was destroyed, beyond Ben O'Gard's unsupported word.'
The blind violinist bristled slightly. 'I trust Ben O'Gard! He saved my life!'
'I have nothing but admiration for your faith in O'Gard,' Doc replied sincerely. 'We will say no more about that angle. But I want to inspect your back.'
Obediently, Victor Vail peeled off his upper garments.
Doc examined the blind man's well-muscled back intently. He even used a powerful magnifying glass. But he found nothing suspicious.
'This is very puzzling,' he conceded, turning to Ham.
'You don't think, Doc, that Keelhaul de Rosa seized Mr. Vail just to get a look at his back?' Ham questioned.
'I think just that,' Doc replied. 'And another thing that puzzles me is why Keelhaul de Rosa turned Mr. Vail
