The Avenger 23 - The Wilder Curse by Kenneth Robeson Read Free Book Online Page B

Foley residence just a minute after The Avenger got there. The first thing the two noticed, of course, was the car in which Mac and Cole had come here earlier.
    It was sitting at the curb in front of the Foley place just as the two had left it. Just on a wild chance, Smitty went over the interior swiftly to see if a note had been somehow left before Cole and Mac were spirited away.
    There was no note.
    “Looks bad,” said Smitty.
    Dick nodded. Then he went rapidly to the Foley door and pressed the bell. The door was opened by a very good-looking young fellow with hair almost as blond as Nellie’s.
    “Were a Mr. MacMurdie and a Mr. Wilson here awhile ago?” The Avenger asked.
    “Yes,” said the young fellow, looking annoyed. “They were. About my uncle’s death. They were going to take me with them while they investigated it, but they went off and left me while I was making a phone call—”
    He stopped and looked intently at The Avenger, taking in his close-cropped, virile black hair, his masklike face and pale, deadly eyes.
    “You’re Dick Benson!” the young fellow said breathlessly. “Say, this is an honor! I’ll ask you what I asked your two aides: Can I help nail my uncle’s murderer? I’m Clarence Beck, Foley’s nephew,” he added, all in a lump.
    “When did MacMurdie and Wilson leave here?” asked Benson.
    “Ten-twenty,” said Beck.
    “You mean—about ten-twenty?”
    “No. I mean ten-twenty. On the nose. I remember, because the first time I tried to call my number it was busy and I looked at the clock to try again in just two minutes. It was ten-twenty.”
    “Then they managed to tap the SOS twelve minutes after they left here,” remarked Smitty.
    “What’s this?” Beck picked it up sharply. He might seem too young for his years, rather impulsive, but he had a head on him. “SOS? Managed? That sounds like they’re in some sort of trouble—”
    At just this moment, there was a commotion next door.
    Smitty and Beck and Benson had been standing on the Foley doorstep. The door of the next house swung open and a woman came out. She had on a coat, unbuttoned, and had her hat in her hand. She had, evidently, just entered her house and was now flying out again.
    “Help! Police!” she began shrilling. “Thieves!”
    Hardly seeming to move, The Avenger was beside her.
    “What is wrong?”
    “Robbers!” yelled the woman. “I went out to the corner for a headache remedy. While I was gone, robbers came. In a moving van, my maid says. And my maid let them walk out with half a dozen chairs and my piano. A piano—in broad daylight! Help! Thieves!”
    Smitty looked at Benson.
    “There we go,” the big fellow said. “They took them away in that van. Drove up here just to do it, and had the crust actually to cart off some furniture to make the act look right.”
    “Sure!” chirped Beck. “All we have to do is locate that van.”
    He was moving as he spoke, moving with The Avenger and Smitty. When they got into their car, Beck climbed in, too. Smitty looked at Benson with one eyebrow up, but The Avenger didn’t say anything. He seemed willing to have Clarence Beck along.
    “My gosh, you’re big!” Beck said to Smitty.
    “Oh, quite!” growled the giant, wondering unhappily what was happening to Mac and Cole. And, above all, why it was happening. How had the snatchers known that the two were at Foley’s place, and who was behind them? Who was so anxious to keep Justice, Inc. out of this murder investigation that an attempt had been made on Dick’s life last night and that two of its members had been kidnaped this morning?

    Following the cold trail of that van in which Mac and Cole were prisoners presented no problem at all for a few blocks for the simple reason that this was a one-way street. Anyone driving a thing as conspicuous as a moving van, with a couple of kidnaped victims in it, would be careful to live up to the rules so as not to draw police attention.
    The Avenger went down