The note moved Doc Savage deeply. The death of his father was still a fresh hurt. This had occurred only recently. The elder Savage had been murdered.
It had done little to assuage the pain when Doc himself took up the trail of the murderer, a trail that led to Central America, and ended in a stroke of cold justice for the killer, as well as perilous adventures for Doc and five friends who had accompanied him.
Doc offered his hand to Bittman.
'Whatever debt of gratitude my father owed you,' he said feelingly, 'you can consider that I also owe you.'
Bittman smiled and took the hand in a firm clasp.
IN a very few minutes the conversation got around to Oliver Wording Bittman’s acquaintance with Jerome Coffern.
'I knew Coffern, yes,' said Bittman. 'We went on that New Zealand expedition together. You say he is dead? What a shock! His murderers should be made to suffer!'
'Five of them have already done that,' Doc replied grimly. 'But the master mind who ordered Coffern’s murder is still at large. He must pay the penalty!
'He is a man I know only as Kar. I was hoping you might yield some information. Or if not, perhaps you can inform me where Gabe Yuder, the other member of the expedition, can be found.'
Oliver Wording Bittman toyed with the scalpel on his watch chain. His eyes were veiled in deep thought.
'Gabe Yuder!' he muttered. 'I wonder — could he be the man? He was an unsavory chap. I have no idea what became of him after our return. He remained in New Zealand — intending to return here later.'
'Will you describe Gabe Yuder?'
Around and around Bittman’s finger flew the scalpel. He spoke in clipped sentences, giving an excellent description.
'Gabe Yuder was a young man, under thirty. He was robust, an athletic type. He had a red face. His mouth was big. The lower lip was cleft by a knife scar. His eyes were always bloodshot. They were a pale gray. They reminded you of a snake’s undersides. His hair was sandy, a sort of mongrel color.
'Yuder had a loud, coarse voice. He had an overbearing manner. His knuckles were scarred from knocking people about. He would strike a native at the slightest provocation. And he was a combination of chemist and electrical engineer by trade. He went along with us to prospect for petroleum.'
'He Does sound rather villainous,' Doc admitted. 'Can you tell me anything about this Smoke of Eternity?'
'The Smoke of Eternity? What is that?' queried Bittman, looking puzzled.
Doc debated. There was no reason why he should not tell Bittman of the terrible dissolving compound that had destroyed Jerome Coffern. Besides, Bittman had been friend to Doc’s father.
So Doc explained what the Smoke of Eternity was.
'Good heavens!' Bittman groaned. 'Such a thing is incredible! No! I can’t tell you the slightest thing about it.'
'Did you note anything suspicious about Gabe Yuder’s actions on the New Zealand expedition?'
Oliver Wording Bittman thought deeply, then nodded.
'Yes, now that I think of it. Here is what happened: Our expedition split in two parts when we reached New Zealand. I remained in New Zealand to gather and mount samples of the island bird life for a New York museum, Yuder and Jerome Coffern chartered a schooner and sailed with Yuder’s plane to an island some distance away.'
'A plane?' Doc interposed.
'I neglected to tell you,' Bittman said hastily. 'Yuder is also a flyer. He took a plane along on the expedition. Some American oil company was financing him.'
'What was the name of the island to which Yuder and Jerome Coffern went?' Doc asked.
'Thunder Island.'
THUNDER ISLAND!
Doc’s bronze brow wrinkled as he groped in his memory. There were few spots in the world, however outlying, upon which he did not possess at least general information.
'As I recall,' Doc continued, 'Thunder Island is nothing but the cone of an active volcano projecting from the sea. The sides of the cone are so barren they support no vegetation whatever. And great quantities of steam come continually from the active crater.'
'Exactly,' corroborated Bittman. 'Jerome Coffern told me he flew over the crater once with Yuder. The crater was a number of miles across, but the whole thing seemed filled with steam and fumes. They brought back specimens from the cone, however. Jerome Coffern turned them over to the largest college of geology in New York City.'
'We’re getting off the trail,' Doc declared. 'You said you noted something suspicious about Yuder’s actions. What was it?'
'After he and Jerome Coffern returned from Thunder Island, Yuder was surly and furtive. He acted like he had a secret, now that I think back. But at the time, I thought he was in an ill temper because he had found no oil, although he scouted Thunder Island the whole time Jerome Coffern was there gathering specimens.'
'Hm-m-m,' Doc murmured.
'I’m afraid that does not help much,' Bittman apologized.
'It’s too soon to say.'
Doc thought briefly. Then he nodded at the telephone.
'May I make a call from here?'
'Of course!'
Arising hastily, Bittman left the room. This politeness was to show he had no desire to listen in on Doc’s phone talk.
Doc called a number.
'Monk?' he asked.
A mild, pleasant voice replied, 'Sure thing, Doc.'
That mild voice was a deceptive thing. A listener would not have dreamed it could come from the kind of a man who was at the other end of the wire. For the speaker was Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Blodgett Mayfair.
He was a two-hundred-and-sixty-pound human gorilla. He was one of the roughest and toughest and most likable and homely men ever to live. Monk was also one of the few chemists in the world who could be considered a greater expert in that line than poor, unfortunate Jerome Coffern.
Monk was one of five men who accompanied Doc Savage on his amazing jaunts in pursuit of adventure. These five, like Doc, were giving their lives to traveling about the world and righting wrongs and handing out their own brand of justice. Whatever excitement turned up in the course of that pursuit — and there was always plenty — they gobbled up and liked it. How they liked it!
'Monk,' Doc suggested, 'could you take on a little trouble right now?'
'I’m on my way!' chuckled Monk. 'Where do I find this trouble?'
'Call Renny, Long Tom, Johnny and Ham,' Doc directed. 'All of you show up at my place right away. I think I’m mixed up in something that will make us all hump.'
'I’ll get hold of them,' Monk promised.
DOC stood by the phone a moment after hanging up. He was thinking of his five friends, 'Monk,' 'Renny,' 'Long Tom,' 'Johnny,' and 'Ham.' They were probably the most efficient five men ever to assemble for a definite purpose. Each was a world-famed specialist in a particular line.
Renny was a great engineer, Long Tom an electrical wizard, Johnny an archaeologist and geologist, and
