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Title: Haunted Ocean
Author: Kenneth Robeson
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Language: English
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Date first posted: July 2006
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Haunted Ocean
Kenneth Robeson


"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 breadth 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

"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

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

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

"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

"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

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

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

"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

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

"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."


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

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

"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

"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

"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

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

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."


"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.

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

"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

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 SOS 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,

"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

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:


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

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

"Remarkable!" commented Professor Callus.


"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.

Undoubtedly, Doc had heard Renny. But likely his reception of the
engineer's voice had been similarly jumbled.

The light recorder showed rising luminance somewhere much closer than
the hitherto located blind spot somewhere in the North Sea.

"Do you think something might be happening to Mr. Savage's plane?"
said Professor Callus.

"Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed the red-headed girl, breathlessly.

"Nothing to worry about," said Long Tom. "This ocean haunt hasn't been
serious in any way."

Lora Krants's expression showed she doubted his words.

The corridor buzzer whined. It was less strident than usual. Long Tom,
with his keen electrician's sense, noted this. When he applied the
radio contact to work the electroscopic locks of the doors, it
responded more slowly than it should.

It was as if the available electrical current had been lessened.

THE little man who came in bowed obsequiously. His flashing white
teeth smiled at every one. His skin was of the yellow darkness of an
Oriental. But his clothes were elegantly correct. His English was

"I do not need to confirm the information that this is the
establishment of Clark Savage," he said. "I am Kama Dbhana. It would
be much simpler to call me Kama, which is the family name."

"Sure!" grunted Renny, who was worrying about Doc. "Mr. Kama is all
right with us! What can we do for you?"

"Mr. Savage, he is not now present?" said Mr. Kama.

He glanced with sparkling black eyes at Professor Callus. He had a
passing gleam of appreciation for the pretty Lora Krants.

Renny explained that Doc was absent. He introduced the others briefly.

"You haven't said, Mr. Kama, what we can do for you?" Renny then said.

Kama's darting eyes lingered on the variety of instruments.

"I have been informed," he said, "that Mr. Savage is tracing
atmospheric phenomena apparently of marine origin. I hoped he might be
able to divulge something of its source."

"Holy cow!" thundered Renny. "You, too! And I suppose you have a
friend in the Coast Survey, Mr. Kama?"

Mr. Kama, merely bowed and smiled.

The buzzer whined again. It was even fainter than when Mr. Kama had

The man who entered was big and blond. He was a hearty, jolly fellow.
His words rolled with Scandinavian slowness of speech.

"I am Hjalmar Landson," he announced. "My countryman, one of the
consular staff of Norway, asked of me that I should have some
conversation with Mr. Savage."

"Say!" rapped out Renny. "Have you got a friend on the Coast Survey
who called you up and told you about it?"

Hjalmar Landson's mild, blue eyes went rather blank.

"I have no friend in what you call this Coast Survey," he said,
slowly. "No, it is not that. My countryman, he informed me--"

"You haven't met Mr. Kama, or Professor Callus, or Miss Krants?" Renny

"I have seen this Mr. Kama," said Hjalmar Landson, unexpectedly. "But
it does not matter. The others I have not had the pleasure--"

Renny introduced him. Then he made another effort to contact Doc's
plane. All he got was a louder squawling than before. Other
instruments were beginning to oscillate. But those recording the
weather showed no atmospheric changes.

Professor Callus seemed to take Mr. Kama under his wing. Now he was
explaining also to Mr. Landson the purposes of the variety of gadgets.

Renny heard Mr. Kama say he came from San Tao. The engineer had heard
of San Tao while he had been supervising a great tunnel in western
China. He recalled San Tao was an isolated, little known, but
immensely wealthy, mountain province of southern China.

THE telephone buzzed. Long Tom took the call. He looked up with quick

"It's for you, Miss Krants," he said. "So others know you came here?"
The red-headed girl smiled calmly.

"Oh!" she said. "I was hoping perhaps a cable might come from my
father! I left word with the telegraph company!"

A few seconds later, she replaced the telephone.

"There's been a steamer report of father's yacht," she said. "I must
go at once to pick up the message. If I leave a telephone number and
anything happens, would you call me?"

Though the instruments were in increasing confusion, Renny put on his

"I shall go with you," he announced. "You can give me the telephone
number later."

"Why--" began Lora Krants. "You are so busy here--I had thought that--

"I could very well escort Miss Krants to her home," offered Professor
Callus. "There seems nothing more to be learned just now. I have my

"Thanks," said Renny. "But I think I had better take her home."

The engineer was following Doc's instructions to see Miss Krants
safely home. Also, the big engineer, who wasn't usually susceptible,
liked this snappy red-headed girl very much.

"Very well," bowed Professor Callus. "I shall be leaving soon,

"I should like very much to have the honor of remaining," said Kama,
"but I have other urgent matters to which I must attend."

"Me, too," grunted Hjalmar Landson.

The very blond Norwegian and the very dark Oriental followed Renny,
the girl and her brother closely, as they got to the lower floor.

ONE of Doc's armored roadsters provided ample space for Renny, Miss
Krants and her brother. The thick-browed brother did not talk. The
red-headed girl chattered her hope the message at the telegraph office
might mean something.

Renny's hands looked big and clumsy on the steering wheel. But the
girl gasped at the speed with which the car flicked past the steel
pillars of the elevated tracks. The telegraph office from which the
notification to the girl had come was about ten blocks from Doc's

In the fourth block, Renny shaved a steel pillar. He swung at high
speed around a street car on the wrong side. His eyes were fixed on
the rear-view mirror.

At the next corner, Renny twisted suddenly into a wider street and
drove fast through a block. He rounded through the city canyons and
came back to the elevated tracks.

"Thought so!" he grunted. "We've got company, Miss Krants!"

"What do you mean?" said the red-headed girl.

"Closed car, sedan, has been following us," announced Renny. "Now
we'll show that driver something."

For the next minute or two, the redhead let out occasional gasps. Her
brother swore under his breath.

There was little traffic. But even that didn't seem to make seventy
miles an hour safe. Elevated pillars swished past like a row of close-
set fence pickets.

If the girl or her brother said anything for the next few seconds, it
couldn't be heard. The motor of the car was only a sibilant rush, but
the pillars crashed sound with their speed.

Renny grunted with satisfaction. The pursuing sedan apparently hadn't
the speed to overtake them. Then they whizzed into a new block. Just
ahead was a lumbering truck.

"Look out!" cried the red-headed girl.

Renny twisted desperately on the steering wheel. His strength almost
tore it from the post. The big truck was squarely across both car

The roadster brakes squawled. The red-headed girl clutched
convulsively at Renny's thick arm. Her hand slipped off. The tires of
spongy rubber bit into the pavement. The rubber burned.

The long hood took the impact. The side of the big truck splintered.
Lora Krants screamed.

THE girl's cry was short. Renny's bulky arm was across her body. He
was attempting to prevent her being hurled through the windshield.
That glass would not shatter. Likewise, it was bulletproof.

Renny's giant strength undoubtedly saved the girl's life. But she
struck the glass with force enough to knock her completely out.
Barton, her brother, flew from the side door. He was lucky in
skidding, feet-first, on a smooth stretch of asphalt.

Renny was only slightly stunned. He attempted to get the girl back
into the seat. Behind them a sedan skidded to an abrupt stop. Men
poured from this car. Others were springing from the truck.

The murdered man at Doc's door had some dire meaning. But it was all a
deep mystery to Renny. The snub-nosed gun suddenly shoved under his
arm was definite. Not many men would have done other than lift their

But Renny really liked this red-headed girl. Almost as much as he
liked a good scrap. Renny had less caution than man power.

He hit the man holding the gun so hard and so unexpectedly, the weapon
flew out of his hands. His fists were mauling sledges as he sprang
into the street.

One of the attackers made a serious mistake.

"Don't shoot!" he growled. "She said to take him alive!"

Renny was not pausing to think about who "she" might be.

The engineer picked out the man who had spoken. One fist traveled in a
wide arc. It was a haymaker that landed the man five yards away. Renny
backed up to the truck.

The giant had no special rules about fighting. In less than half a
minute he had piled six or seven men in a heap.

Renny downed two more men with sickening smashes. He waded toward the

A long arm reached out. It was lengthened by the snubnosed machine gun
it held. The steel barrel rapped cruelly upon Renny's tough skull.

Renny went to his hands and knees. He thought the asphalt had heaved
up and struck him. Then he was out.

WHEN Renny awoke, he was bound hand and foot. A tight blindfold
covered his eyes. But the warmth about him informed him he was in some
apartment. His head was aching. But his hearing was unimpaired.

He strained at the cords binding him when he heard the husky, and
clearly angry voice of Lora Krants. Then he abruptly ceased his

"Holy cow!" he grumbled. "I mighta known it was something like that!
Darned if you can ever trust a woman!"


"FOOLS!" spoke the voice of Lora Krants. "He is the wrong man! You
ought to have known that. Why didn't you wait for my signal?"

Renny was greatly puzzled. Anyway, he thought grimly, he was the man
who had got this headache out of it. Then the girl added a few words.

"Doc Savage has gone to Washington by plane!"

So that was it, judged Renny. The charming redhead had been only a
decoy. She had been sent to bait Doc Savage into this trap.

Then Renny was more amazed. Barton, the brother of Lora Krants, had

"We'll turn him loose then," he said. "We haven't any time to waste.
Anything might happen in the next hour or two."

Men came into the room. They pulled Renny to his feet.

"Think you're able to navigate?" said one.

"Untie my hands and you'll think I can!" boomed Renny.

"Guess he's all O.K.," said another man.

"It would be best to gag him until you are out of the way," said the
cool voice of Lora Krants. "We don't want to get the police in on
this. They'll be tracing those smashed cars right now."

A gag was slapped over Renny's mouth. He was carried down several
flights of stairs. After a short ride in a car, he was rolled out onto
a grassy plot. A knife slid along the cords around his arms.

Renny was compelled to waste time untying the knots around his legs.
He pulled the gag from his mouth. The tape blindfold took some hairs
with it. A car purred away.

Renny stood up and blinked. He was in the approximate middle of
Central Park. The car had made only two turns. Renny fixed a location
that might be the apartment house from which he had been brought.

That would have to keep. He considered it more important to get back
to headquarters. Long Tom was probably alone now. Professor Callus had
said he would be leaving soon.

Renny wished he knew why Doc had insisted he escort Lora Krants to her
home. Well, anyway, he reflected grimly, he had carried out the order.
Hailing a taxicab, Renny headed for the midtown skyscraper.

THE buzzer at Doc Savage's headquarters sounded faintly. It was but a
few minutes after Renny and Lora Krants, with the others, had
departed. Long Tom had been unsuccessfully trying to make something
out of the radio jumble.

"Good gosh!" he exploded impatiently. "More visitors?"

Professor Callus wagged his shiny head and smiled.

"It would seem that secrecy no longer attaches to this investigation
of the disturbed ocean," he said.

The man who came in was tall and of the same Oriental coloring as the
recently departed Kama Dbhana. His teeth flashed in a pleased smile.

"I have been informed only tonight," he said, "that Clark Savage has
been investigating--"

"Sure, I know!" snapped Long Tom. "Your friend in the Coast Survey
told you! Now what do you want?"

The dark-skinned Oriental continued to smile. Long Tom stepped back
suddenly, slowly putting up his hands. The outside door had remained
open. Other men with yellow faces seemed to glide in without walking.

There were six of these men. All were smiling. But the guns in their
hands brought no smile to Long Tom's face. The electrical expert made
a quick movement to reach for a pocket.

But he was not quick enough. Six unwavering guns were fixed upon his
middle. Combined fire could have sliced him to pieces.

"We know you are alone here, with only this man who is not one of Doc
Savage's companions," stated the dark-skinned leader. "You will not be

Professor Callus sputtered. But he was seized with Long Tom. Steel
cuffs of intricate design clinked onto their wrists behind their
backs. Damp cloths were slapped over their faces.

The drug was not chloroform. Long Tom had never before smelled this
perfumed odor. He did not puzzle over it long. He and Professor Callus
were bundled to one side. Both were peacefully sleeping.

Directed by their still-smiling leader, the six dark men went to work
methodically. Strangely, they seemed to be acquainted with the most
vital parts of all the delicate apparatus with which Doc had been
seeking the origin of the ocean haunt.

In less than five minutes, the wreckage was as complete as if one of
Professor Homus Jasson's bombs had been touched off.

Weather instruments, light recorders, the radio were ripped apart and
smashed. The Orientals touched nothing in the laboratory except the
gadgets used directly in the checking up on the haunted ocean.

They moved out as silently as they had come. The leader pulled the
cover from the face of Professor Homus Jasson. The dead man still had
a look of horror in his eyes.

The Oriental smiled with his white teeth.

"The master will be greatly pleased," he said. "This makes all perfect
for the one who would sell."

DOWNSTAIRS, Renny alighted from his taxicab. He saw seven men getting
into a closed car. They had yellow, Oriental skins.

"Good grief!" he muttered. "I suppose we've been having some more
visitors! Looks like that guy Kama's friends or--"

Renny whipped into the building. He shot upward in Doc's own private
elevator. This rocketlike lift passed seventy floors at a speed that
would have projected it through the tower of the imposing mass of
steel and marble.

Cushioned apparatus slowed it at the eighty-sixth floor.

Doc Savage's outside door was standing open. Renny proceeded with
infinite caution. At the door of the laboratory he halted with a deep

"I might have known something like that would happen," he murmured to
himself. "I wonder where--"

A dull thumping came from one side of the room. Renny sprang to what
seemed to be only the smooth wall. A panel swung open.

Professor Callus rolled out, groaning. His big head seemed to be
attached to his body by only a thin rag. But his neck was not broken.
As Long Tom staggered to his feet, Professor Callus arose.

"This is terrible--terrible!" said the professor. "Everything has been
smashed! I thought we were done for!"

"What happened?" demanded Renny. "I saw men who looked like that Kama

"That's right," said Long Tom, mournfully. "We didn't have a chance!
We were drugged and put into the cabinet."

The cabinet was one of the ventilated spaces in which Doc Savage
sometimes imprisoned individuals he might want to question later.

"Set up the emergency," said Renny. "We've got to find out what
happened to Doc."

Professor Callus opened his eyes. From what appeared to be a blank
wall space emerged the complete equipment of an intricate radio and
television set. This was a set maintained by Doc Savage for an

But when it went into service, the squawking and bumbling had become
more intense. The apparatus was useless.

Renny had an idea. He went to the telephone. Thumbing through the
book, he found the number of Cyrus Krants, the bathosphere man.

It must have been the voice of a caretaker or some servant replying to
Renny's call.

"I would like to speak with Miss Krants, Miss Lora Krants," said
Renny. "It is important. I have news of her missing father."

The reply was instant, unhesitating.

"Sorry, but Miss Lora Krants is visiting friends in California. You
said her father is missing? There must be some mistake. Cyrus Krants
has been in touch with his home every day. Who is this speaking?"

Renny did not say who was speaking. His sudden liking for the red-
headed girl had completely evaporated.


DURING the wrecking of his Manhattan weather instruments, Doc Savage
had been holding his silver-winged plane to a line closely bordering
the Atlantic coast. Ham and Monk were engaged in one of their usual
caustic exchanges.

"An' a red-headed woman made a fool out of me," chanted Ham, with
tuneless sarcasm.

"Dag-gone it!" piped Monk. "An' you'll shut up or I'll be makin'
mincemeat outta you!"

Doc was watching the lights of Baltimore, a mile below.

A shrill grunt accompanied Monk's irate exclamation. An animal that
looked to be all ears and legs, seemed to sympathize with the apelike
chemist's remarks. This was Habeas Corpus, Monk's pet pig.

"That shote's a fine thing to be taking to a conference at
Washington," grinned Ham. "At that, he'll probably make about the same
impression as his master."

"Is that so?" sputtered Monk. "If you had his brains, you danged
shyster, you'd talk a lot less and think more!"

Doc interrupted the pleasant exchange.

"That's strange," he said, quietly. "It is just after midnight, but it
would seem the sun has decided to come up. Look over to the eastward."

"Howlin' calamities!" exploded Monk. "Looks like daylight's bustin' on
us, an' comin' fast! What's happened to the radio, Doc?"

"Um---um--bum---ulbum---ulbum!" squawked the loudspeaker in the plane.

"It has been going bad for some time," remarked Doc.

The man of bronze had figured he would make Washington well within two
hours. Suddenly he was not so sure about it.

The eerie dawn at midnight was spreading. The east took on a brighter
hue. But it was not as if the sun were rising. Usually, an ocean
sunrise is varied in color. This was much like a white fan spreading
across the horizon.

"Looks something like the northern lights," suggested Ham.

HABEAS CORPUS, the pig Monk had picked up in Arabia, was an animal of
acute instincts. Now he was standing rigidly. He sniffed and quivered.

"Something about it Habeas Corpus don't like," said Monk.

"I don't like that hog, but he is smarter than any ape," grinned Ham.

The radio squawking suddenly was cut off. There had been a sound like
a tremendous burst of static. Then silence.

"I don't like that," stated Doc. "Sounds as if something has smashed
things at headquarters."

From the plane's motor came a sputter. The engine of finest alloy
metal seemed to hesitate. But its cylinders picked up again. Doc's
hand moved a lever. This closed shutters around the motor.

These shutters were of a special material made to resist magnetic
influence. It was insulated against any known form of interference by
any of the rays thus far invented.

More than just a false sunrise had become apparent over the ocean. The
plane was passing over a vast expanse of shore marshes. No human
habitations showed.

Above the hissing of the plane's motor, a low humming became audible.
Doc Savage had been hearing this for some time. His ears were easily
three times as acute as those of Ham and Monk.

"It might be well to put on the 'chutes," advised Doc. "Those bogs
provide a poor footing for setting the plane down."

"Are we going to land out here?" piped up Monk.

The plane's motor gave the answer. Its muffled explosions ceased

Doc Savage stared at the switch for a few seconds. The propeller
rotated slowly. The man of bronze pushed a button. This should have
lighted the instrument board. There was no light. The electrical
current had been lost.

"Something wrong with the wires?" questioned Ham. Doc did not reply.
The interior of the cabin now had no lights. They were not needed
while daylight had flooded the space. In the uneven line of the shore,
the low caps of the ocean swells, a fishing launch sprang into view.

Monk and Ham had hastily slipped their arms through the harness of
parachutes. The skilled hand of Doc Savage kept the plane winging in a
wide, descending spiral.

They were in daylight. Broad daylight at the hour of midnight. The
plane was as silent as if it never had been powered. Wind whistled
through the wings in its descent.

"Bail out!" Doc ordered the others.

The man of bronze had made no effort to don a parachute.

"You coming, Doc?" said Ham.

"I will be with you presently," said Doc.

Ham and Monk opened the door. Monk seized one ear of the pig Habeas
Corpus. They went out and dropped.

Doc was sticking with the plane. The silver ship flashed down. The man
of bronze had picked out a boggy hammock. Monk groaned.

Less than a hundred feet above the marsh, Doc leveled off. The wind
shrieked as the wings pancaked. The air cushioned the descent. The
plane struck, settled into the boggy ground.

DOC and his two companions found themselves in a wide space of mucky
ground. They sank over their knees. The going was tough enough for Doc
and Ham.

Monk's short legs made it worse for him. The weight of the pig was a

Monk set Habeas Corpus on his feet.

Doc, walking ahead, rubbed one hand over his smooth hair. Sparks
flashed. The atmosphere was charged with some strange force. They came
to the shore rocks.

In the marsh, birds were whistling. Some were shrill-voiced, as they
greeted the dawn.

Doc climbed the rocks. Ham and Monk followed. Habeas Corpus was still
struggling to break away.

Voices of men came from the ocean. Three fishermen on a small launch
were tramping their deck and swearing lustily. They were working
furiously to get their motor going.

"I surmise we are face to face with whatever has been haunting the
ocean," stated Doc. "That launch has no power."

The launch drifted broadside onto the rocks. Doc and the others waded
in and helped the fishermen beach the boat.

"What in Hades is all this?" growled one of the fishermen. "Is it the
horn of Gabriel or something?"

"Well, it might be at that," replied Ham, cheerfully.

A smudge of smoke showed at sea. It rolled upward from just below the

"That vessel seems to have stopped," said Doc.

"Yes," replied one of the fishermen. "We were out there when this
thing started. It's a coastal passenger steamer. They had to drop
their hooks. Their engines quit suddenly."

Doc Savage mounted a point of rocks. All around he was looking at what
appeared to be the circular curtain of night. Darkness had been thrust
back only a few miles. They were in the center of the eerie midnight

It was possible to mark three different boats. Two of these were
drifting. The other had anchored.

"We must procure some new means of transportation," advised Doc. "It
is important that we get to Washington quickly."

THE three fishermen accompanied them around the rim of the wide marsh.

On the first paved road no traffic was moving. An electric railway was
close. The building of a power substation bulked ahead. In the doorway
were four men in overalls.

"What is all this?" said one of the men. "Our own power went off, and
when I tried to telephone, it was dead!"

Doc Savage said nothing. He led the way toward a farmhouse. A puzzled
countryman and his wife were standing in their yard.

"I ain't never seen the like o' this!" grumbled the farmer. "Even the
derned chickens thinks it's mornin'! But there ain't no sun!"

Doc smiled. "I judge the sun will be along at its usual time."

Two roosters were crowing at top pitch. They were greeting the

"Have you a car?" Doc asked the farmer. "If so, I will pay you well to
get to some other means of transportation."

Doc smiled as he asked the question.

Two minutes later, the farmer learned the meaning of this smile. His
best efforts got no results. The battered farm machine had no power.
The farmer looked up with an oath. Once more, he whirled the crank
savagely by hand.

Then something happened. It was like some one suddenly switching off a
brilliant flashlight. The darkness of midnight shut in the
countryside. The small motor of the car started so suddenly it
backfired and kicked the farmer onto his haunches.

Night had returned. From the direction of the railway substation came
the sudden humming of a dynamo. The power was on. The three fishermen
shouted and started back toward the shore.

Doc produced a roll of bills.

"We won't bother to hire the car," he said. "We'll buy it."

Ham and Monk piled in. Monk dragged Habeas Corpus aboard. The rickety
vehicle rattled out onto the highway.

Doc pushed the old motor to the limit. In less than half an hour he
had reached an airport and chartered a fast plane. This arrived in
Washington after a hop of a few minutes.


THE meeting between the president and Doc Savage was secret and
informal. The president stated he had sought this conversation with
the man of bronze because of his vast scientific knowledge.

"The whole thing is fantastic," stated the president, "but it suggests
such great possible calamity, it cannot be overlooked! We seem to be
threatened by such a power as none of our government scientists and
technicians have ever believed could exist."

"Practical science has progressed in an incredible manner during the
past few years, Mr. President," stated Doc Savage. "None can say what
vast force may be discovered at any time. Unfortunately, the
discoveries are not always made by those of balanced and
straightforward minds."

They were discussing the affair that had begun with the queer
disturbance of Coast and Geodetic Survey equipment. Doc had cautioned
his companions against mentioning, for the present, the occurrence on
the coast.

But they had arrived in Washington to find themselves confronted with
several new and serious angles. Not only had the haunted ocean become
apparent, but the phenomenon was being used as a direct threat.

The purpose of that threat was of such fabulous character as to border
upon the incredible.

The government had been informed that it must disarm. Further, it had
been stated that all other nations would be similarly compelled to
dispense with all of their armed forces.

"We received the communication in such manner as to make it
untraceable," said the president. "The message apparently originated
somewhere in the Northern Atlantic. It was relayed by radio from one
ship to another."

"And you say the purpose of this is declared to end all war in the
world?" mused Doc Savage. "I would say the object is a most worthy
one. At the same time, such force as is threatened would not for long
be confined to such a benevolent purpose. If the machinery of any
nation, any great city could be paralyzed indefinitely, then this
force would soon be in the hands of rascals."

The president nodded his head.

"That is correct, Mr. Savage," he said, gravely. "But this whole thing
savors of a disordered mind. It would seem some lunatic has isolated
himself in The Land of the Midnight Sun."

"Howlin' calamities!" rapped Monk.

"The lunatic's ideas of yesterday often become the great inventions of
today," interrupted Doc, quickly. "You say this unknown sender of the
message demands complete disarmament at once? He declared he has the
power to control the destinies of all other countries?"

"Yes," said the president. "And to prove it, he declares he will
demonstrate this power. He has set eight o'clock this morning. If he
can do it, all of the New York area will be rendered inactive from the
hour set until noon."

"WON'T that be something for the anti-noise boys?" said Ham. "Imagine
New York City without a wheel turning. No thunder of the subway, no
roar of the elevated, no grind of traffic--"

"Anyway," said the president, "the whole thing can hardly be other
than the ravings of a lunatic. The whole thing is probably unworthy of
our serious attention."

Doc Savage said nothing. He was thinking of The Land of the Midnight
Sun. Back there on the Maryland coast there had been daylight.

"I believe with you that this threatener may be unbalanced," said Doc.
"But I also believe he will do exactly as he says."

The president tried to laugh. His mirth had a hollow sound.

"And we have received no further word of the war commission or the
steamship Trafalgar Square," he stated.

A secretary presented a message to the president.

"Then there is something, Mr. Savage! Some ships were stopped off the
Maryland coast! A naval destroyer was without power for nearly an
hour! They report a mysterious light like daylight!"

"Yes," observed Doc. "One of my best planes is bogged down in a
Maryland marsh."

The president stared at the bronze man bleakly.

"You hadn't mentioned that," he said, gravely. "I wish we had Arne
Dass with us."

"I knew Arne Dass was missing," stated Doc. "His knowledge would
indeed be most valuable."

"Yes," said the president. "Dass has been gone for more than six
months. His scientific work with the navy department was invaluable.
We fear some foreign agency may have had a hand in his disappearance."

The work of Arne Dass, an aged scientist, was a high spot in the
history of the navy department. He had developed some of the most
effective weapons of warfare.

"What steps would you advise we take?" said the president.

"I know of none that might be effective before eight o'clock this
morning," stated Doc. "That is now barely six hours away. We shall fly
back to New York at once."

DOC SAVAGE was back in his eighty-sixth floor laboratory at dawn. The
man of bronze had been busy for nearly an hour. One telephone call had
been a contact with an electro-chemical company plant on the Hudson

The man of bronze owned a controlling interest in this works. For ten
minutes he talked with one of the machinery designers. The plan for
what he desired was being copied by the designer in elaborate detail.
The intricate design had been evolved and mapped in the amazing brain
of the bronze giant.

"Put all the men necessary on this to have it ready within twelve
hours," instructed Doc.

The man of bronze returned to chemical experiments he had been making.
He was clad in a cloak of gray rubberized fabric. His head was encased
in what might have been a diver's helmet of crystal.

The chemicals Doc was employing were of a deadly character. It lacked
two hours until eight o'clock.

A red light glowed and a buzzer whined. Doc removed the glass helmet
and picked up the telephone.

"The White House speaking," said a voice. "We have received word of
two lifeboats from the Trafalgar Square being picked up. Our
information says they were in the vicinity of the Lofoten Islands, off
the coast of Norway."

"The islands are a thousand and more miles north of the English
Channel," stated Doc. "It sounds rather fantastic. But the commission?
What have you learned?"

"Very little. Washington is trying to get a clear story of what
happened to the Trafalgar Square. The steamer was abandoned. And it is
reported the war commission has been abducted. A lifeboat carrying
them vanished into the north. That may be only a wild tale."

"I fear you will find it is true," stated Doc.

The conversation was terminated.

Doc summoned the others to the laboratory.

"Whatever affairs you may have at hand should be adjusted quickly," he
stated. "Brothers, we are soon to journey into the Arctic regions, so
equip yourselves."

DOC had left off his helmet. The door buzzer whined. Doc threw a
switch. A square of frosted glass was illuminated. In that glass was a
man crawling. Scarlet liquid oozed from his mouth and dripped slowly
from his chin.

The frosted glass gave a detailed view of the corridor in front of Doc
Savage's door.

"Great Scott!" rasped Ham. "Another one!"

Renny and Long Tom were staring.

"It's that fellow who said he was a Norwegian," declared Long Tom. "He
left here with that fellow, Kama."

Hjalmar Landson, the blond Norwegian, had staggered from the elevator.
Likely he had fallen after the car started downward. For he now was
making a second effort to reach the door. Doc glided through the
library into the outer room. The door opened by the radio contact.

The big Norwegian half arose to his feet. His eyes were like hard,
blue ice. But they were beginning to glaze a little. One big hand
wiped the oozing blood from his lips.

"Doc--Doc Savage--" he mumbled. "You must--must know about this--Knut
Aage--he will--"

Hjalmar Landson slid forward on his face. The ornamental handle of a
dagger stuck gruesomely from between his shoulders. Nearly all of a
queerly curved blade had been sunk beside his spine.

Doc Savage made a quick injection from a syringe. Hjalmar Landson
appeared to come back from death itself.

"They'll get it--find Knut Aage--Salten Fjord--Moskenes--north passage
in Satan's Gateway--this professor--who died--Kama wanted to buy--my
country--go there--"

The Norwegian's last words were only liquid gurgling. What he might
have meant by his reference to the dead professor, Homus Jasson, he
now could never reveal.

Stretched in death, Hjalmar Landson more than ever resembled a blond
Viking of the Far North.

"Whatever he might have been, he was loyal to his country to the
last," stated Doc Savage. "Moskenes is one of the Lofoten Islands."

"Kama!" exclaimed Ham. "That would be his murderer!"

"Thunderation!" growled Renny. "I wouldn't be so sure! There is that
bogus red-headed Krants girl!"

But at this moment, Doc and his companions had another matter to claim
their attention.

The heart of Hjalmar Landson, the Norwegian, had ceased beating at
precisely eight o'clock in the morning.

And with it, the heart of Greater New York City also halted its loudly
pulsing stroke.


NEW YORK CITY, Manhattan and all of its environs, had been warned from
Washington. Several million persons were cautioned to be on their

Trains might stop. Ferries might be disabled. Subways could become
unsafe. Elevated tracks might cease to thunder.

In other words, advised Washington by radio and early edition
newspapers, a few million persons should be careful of their
activities at eight o'clock this morning.

New York at eight o'clock in the morning was going about its customary
business. In the eighty-sixth floor headquarters of Doc Savage could
be heard the humming thunder of the active city.

So great and constant is this roar of traffic, its beat ceases to be
recorded by the ears of the average New Yorkers. These waves of sound
were rolling up when Hjalmar Landson staggered to his death in Doc
Savage's corridor.

Now another wave arose. More appalling perhaps than anything else that
could happen. It was an abrupt wave of silence.

Comparative silence, but an absence of sound, nevertheless. For
shouting voices, even screaming crowds in suddenly halted subway
trains, on stopped elevated coaches, flowing from thousands of
automobiles blocking the streets, hardly registered after the
customary thunder of traffic had died.

New York had stopped. Stopped, paralyzed.

Congestion and panic in the subways were the worst. The trains had
stopped. All lights went out. Thousands of workers were trapped in
Stygian darkness. Perhaps thousands would have been killed there and on
the elevated, where they were pouring from halted trains, had the
third rails still been working.

Motormen and guards tried ineffectually to prevent the maddened crowds
from seeking to escape along the tracks. The guards were overwhelmed.
Crowds streamed toward the stairs leading to the streets.

Doc Savage and his companions looked from a window down into the
canyon of the street far below.

"Looks like one of those slow motion pictures," observed Ham. "Look,
Doc! Every automobile has stopped!"

Bewildered masses crowded into doorways. Their white faces were lifted
toward the blue sky. Many seemed to believe this might be Judgment

"The thing is complete," stated Doc. "Our lights are gone. All
electrical current has been stopped."

THE man of bronze whipped into the laboratory. He returned with one of
their generator flashlights. Even the small generator in this device
refused to respond.

"Doc!" exclaimed Long Tom. "We're locked in! The electroscope is out
of order!"

The main doors, which had been closed, failed to operate. There was no
radio contact. However, there were various exits available from the

Doc Savage's emergency radio was dead. So much a part of modern life
had the radio become, that this one feature alone of the paralyzed
city was perhaps the most terrifying. Bewildered housewives, seeking
to ascertain why their vacuum cleaners, their automatic refrigerators,
their lights and their telephones had gone dead, turned the knobs of
their radios.

Within the first half hour, even the voices of the crowds became
silenced. The words of individuals were being spoken in whispers.
Their natural voices sounded unearthly loud without the accustomed
background of the city's clamor.

"Brothers, no such power has ever before appeared," stated Doc. "We
are informed this threat is made to force an end to all war. It is a
good purpose. But even now, I more than suspect this force is known
and desired by fiendish brains."

The murderer of Professor Homus Jasson and of Hjalmar Landson were
convincing evidence this was true.

Because it was a clear day, the difference in the quality of light did
not appear to the casual millions. But in Doc's laboratory the light
recorders were mysteriously agitated.

And in the most acute ears was that low, throbbing hum, as if the air
suddenly had become filled with billions of invisible, buzzing

EXACTLY at the noon hour, New York City came to life. The transition
from powerless machinery to a sudden surge of returned energy was more
disastrous than the stopping of the city had been.

Now trains were starting. Thousands of motors started unexpectedly.
Hundreds were caught and injured.

Radios squawked. Every telephone was immediately seized upon by the
person nearest. The flood of calls overwhelmed the exchanges. The
automatic lines were choked.

In some of the skyscrapers, elevators shot up or down. They had been
abandoned with power on by some of the terrified operators.

Yet such was the influence of Doc Savage, he was one of the first
persons to put through a call. Having been fully informed of the
dubious standing of the red-headed girl who had said she was Lora
Krants, the man of bronze was making contact with a banker.

"You have the handling of the affairs of Cyrus Krants?" said Doc. "The
information I seek may be of vital importance."

"Yes, I am in touch with the personal affairs of the Krants family,"
stated the banker. "If I can be of assistance, I will."

"We have been told Miss Lora Krants is in California and her father is
in daily touch with his home," said Doc. "Is that true?"

"There must be some mistake," replied the banker. "Miss Lora Krants is
here in New York. I happen to know she appeared to you for help last
night. Her father has been unheard from for several days. Our firm
would regard it as a personal favor if you would do what you can, Mr.

As Doc replaced the telephone, the exotic trilling of sudden discovery
reached his companions. Renny had been listening to the conversation.

"The young lady appears to be Miss Krants," stated Doc. "My informant
is most reliable."

"Holy cow!" boomed Renny. "Doc, when can we get started for the North
Pole, or wherever we're going? In a minute, I'll wake up and discover
I dreamed all that happened this morning."

DOC made no reply. He was again on the telephone. In a few minutes he
had put through a call to the Pacific coast. He held a short
conversation with a person in Del Monte, in southern California. When
he replaced the instrument, he made no explanation.

During this conversation, a visitor had arrived. He was the massive-
headed Professor Callus.

"Another one!" he exclaimed in a shocked voice, as he saw the body of
Hjalmar Landson. "What in the world can this terrible thing mean, Mr.
Savage? Could all of this incredible phenomena of this morning, these
murders, be related to our haunted ocean?"

"It would seem that is the case," stated Doc. "Have you ever had any
contact with this man Landson, or the man called Kama, before they
appeared here last night, Professor Callus?"

"I never saw either of them before," said the big-headed man. "I
returned today, hoping to learn what their interest might have been in
the ocean disturbance. I did see Landson at an early hour this morning
on Fifth Avenue near Central Park."

"Was he alone at that time?"

Professor Callus shook his shiny head, as if with reluctance.

"No," he said, slowly, "but I hesitated to speak of it. Probably it
has no relation to what might have happened later. Landson was riding
in a sedan early this morning with Miss Krants and the brother she
called Barton."

"We might've known it!" spilled Renny. "What time was that,

"As nearly as I can recall, it was between seven and eight o'clock."

"And he reached here and died just when the city went dead," said Ham.
"That seems to provide a clear case of circumstantial evidence."

"Dag-gone it!" piped up Monk, unexpectedly. "That girl wouldn't have
done it! She wouldn't go around stickin' a knife in anybody's back!"

"Or an automatic in your neck," said Ham, sarcastically. "Or maybe a
hypo in that other dead man."

Doc Savage changed the subject suddenly.

"As I told you before, prepare for Arctic conditions. You will proceed
at once to the Hudson River hangars. I shall join you within a short
time. Renny, describe for me the approximate location of that
apartment near Central Park where you were taken."


DOC SAVAGE arrived at the address given by Renny.

"The Krants's servants left early this morning," said the janitor of
the Central Park apartment house. "There was only the housekeeper and
her husband. They've been taking care of the apartment."

Doc Savage exhibited no surprise at the apparent absence of the Krants
family. Seemingly, the man of bronze left the apartment house. Five
minutes later he was ascending the tradesmen's stairway at the back of
the building.

The man of bronze had little difficulty in obtaining an entrance. The
Krants apartment contained five bedrooms.

Doc glided from one room to another. None of the rooms showed evidence
of having been occupied within the past few days. The big living room
had been converted partly into a library.

Doc's flaky gold eyes stirred with little whirlpools. Two crossed
daggers had been crossed above a big table. One dagger was still in
place. The mark on the wall showed the other had been removed

The handle of the remaining dagger was ornamented and inlaid with
jewels. The design was a replica of that which had been buried in the
back of Hjalmar Landson, the Norwegian.

Doc crossed to a window facing Central Park. He pulled back the heavy
drapery a part of an inch. His face was inscrutable as he watched a
sedan arrive and park in the avenue below.

From the time he had left his headquarters Doc had known he was being
shadowed. He was not surprised when a man got out of the sedan and
crossed the street to a point where he could best keep an eye on the
apartment house.

The watcher had a yellowish skin. He was immaculately dressed. His
movement was the glide of an Oriental. From the description given by
Long Tom, Doc identified the man as Kama Dbhana, of San Tao.

DOC was turning from the window. His movement ceased. His remarkable
senses were not of an occult character. But his ears could detect the
ticking of the finest watch.

Somewhere in the apartment a watch was ticking. That watch was not
hidden in a drawer. For the sound had moved. It was still moving.

Doc kept close to the wall. He glided noiselessly toward the large
room adjoining the living room. In the doorway, he halted and

A telephone on the table had been shifted since he had entered. A
picture on the wall had been moved. But few men in the world would
have noted these minor details. Doc Savage never entered any room
without instantly fixing the position of each object.

Doc apparently had not noticed anything unusual. He walked slowly
across the room toward an inner door. Except for the door which he had
entered, all windows and doors were closed.

The window drapes were closely drawn and the room was in semidarkness.
This did not prevent Doc from seeing moving figures.

Doc stood in the middle of the room and waited. Into his hands had
come two small glass objects. Each contained enough anaesthetic gas to
have overcome a dozen men.

The rush toward him came from the shadows. There was hardly a whisper
of movement and no voice of command. But Doc saw there were eight or
ten figures. All wore clumsy-appearing masks.

More strange than the masks, was the fact that none of the figures
seemed to be armed. Their hands were empty. Perhaps they counted on
the weight of numbers.

The little glass capsules hardly tinkled. They were crushed on the rug
at Doc's feet. The man of bronze had inhaled a deep breath, then had
expelled some of it. He was capable of some three to four minutes
without breathing.

The gas should have put these attackers to sleep instantly. But they
remained erect. And none touched the bronze man. He was simply ringed
in by the menacing masks. The figures might have had queer weapons not
now displayed.

A slender figure separated from the others. The husky, muffled voice
of a woman spoke. It was so disguised as to be unidentifiable. The
woman was calm.

"You are powerful enough to defeat some of us, Doc Savage," advised
the voice. "But you could not overpower all of us. I would advise you
to surrender. Your devices are useless against us. We are doing this
for your own good. We would save the lives of you and your

In addition to her mask, the woman wore an enveloping hood.

"I seem to have no choice," replied Doc, quietly. "But you should put
up your hair more carefully. Where it shows, it is red."

There was no red hair showing. But the woman's hand whipped instantly
upward, feeling the hood. At once, she laughed huskily.

"I've been informed you are very clever, Doc Savage," the woman said.
"It seems you live up to your reputation! But that cannot save you
now. We are--"

Doc expelled his breath slowly. The anaesthetic gas had dissipated
into the air. It was only effective for a lesser time than Doc could
hold his breath.

His symmetrical body moved with flashing speed. The arc of the bronze
fists could not have been followed by any human eye.

Most certainly the blows could not have been dodged. Knuckles crunched
into masked faces. The figures massed in a combined rush. Doc's
twisting hands caught up one man and hurled him broadside against
others. Four men went down in a heap.

Only four figures were on their feet. A sinewy arm went around Doc's
throat. His effort to free himself from the grip caused a gun to be
shoved into his neck. At least one attacker was armed.

Doc realized the odds were against him. He relaxed his fight. They
bound him and carried him with them when they departed.

"ONLY by the certain removal of Doc Savage can our enterprise be made
safe," spoke a voice.

"I agree with you perfectly," spoke a woman. "I am glad you have come
to see it my way. He tricked me into betraying myself. He undoubtedly
knows who I am. When will he be removed? They say he has powers that
amount to black magic!"

A macabre laugh came from the invisible man.

"That has all been arranged," he said. "The automatic device on the
death tank will work in fifteen minutes. By then we will be
conspicuously in another place some distance from here."

Doc Savage heard this conversation. He had been dumped on the bare
floor of what appeared to be a large room in some deserted loft
building. There are hundreds of such lofts located along the Hudson
and the East Rivers.

Doc could tell this building was close to the river. Boats were
passing not far away. The man speaking might be Kama. At least, the
voice was the same.

All of his devices had been stripped from his body. Knowledge of his
many secrets was indicated. Even his bulletproof skullcap of metal
had been removed. His feet were bare. False toenails were missing.
Hollow shells worn over some of his teeth had been taken out.

It was the most thorough job of rendering the bronze giant helpless he
had ever encountered. The bonds held him rigid. He could only wait.

The woman laughed again, harshly.

"Well, let's be on our way," she said. "You will be going to
Washington tonight?"

"I'm not so sure of that," replied the man's voice. "Perhaps it would
be best to hold out for greater returns."

Their feet beat hollowly on the bare floor of another room. A distant
door was slammed. Doc could hear the thudding of their feet on stairs.

Doc's acute senses picked up a ticking. He judged it was some device
for timing. There was not so much as a table or chair in the room. Doc
had tried all of the muscular contortions that would have freed him
from ordinary bonds. He met with no success.

Thick dust of the abandoned loft choked his nostrils. It was useless
to call for help in this empty building. He rolled in the direction of
the ticking.

A bright aluminum tank was set in an alcove of the big room. All of
the windows were tightly closed. Some cracks had been carefully sealed
with strips of paper to make more certain it would be a death chamber.

A timing device was affixed to an ordinary alarm clock at the top of
the tank. The ringing of the alarm would release a spring. This in
turn would release the valve at the top of the tank. Doc had no doubt
but that the cylinder contained some deadly gas.

A small vial contained a colorless liquid. It was set to fall and
break on the floor. Doubtless it contained an inflammable chemical
which would be set off by the jar of the vial. Perhaps the gas in the
tank would be combustible. Or it might merely kill.

The fire chemical on the dry floor of the loft would start an
immediate blaze either way. Before the fire would be discovered, the
identity of a body would be almost entirely destroyed.

Doc rolled close to the tank. His first thought was to break the
timing device. Then he saw that any disturbance of the tank would
cause the spring to release the death valve.

Likewise, a touch would send the fire chemical to be broken on the

More than five minutes had passed. Doc rolled to the window. By
tremendous effort he again got to his feet. He teetered forward and
his bronzed head crashed the glass and the frame. But only a small
aperture was made.

Below was the river, down ten stories. Boats were passing, far out in
the stream. Doc attempted to break out another section of the heavy
sash with his head, but the effort threw him on his back.

Then the alarm clock device rang. Immediately, there came a low hiss
of escaping gas. There was a slight thud and a tinkling of glass.

Bluish vapor rolled into the room. As it struck the air, it seemed
converted into writhing, bloated globes.

A quick, bright flame was spreading on the floor of the alcove. A
tongue of fire darted up the wall.

DOC fought to his feet. He jammed his head and shoulders into the
space of the broken window. That way, he would have fresh air for the
maximum of time. He knew the death gas was filling the room behind

The alcove had become a flaming mass. Doc looked intently at the river
far below. But he could not force his body through the small window

Behind Doc, the room was being converted into a fiery furnace. The
bronze man's clothes smoked. The back of his neck was being blistered.
Only his face being jammed into the window saved him from breathing
the deadly gas.

There came a great crashing. Doc thought at first a part of a wall had
fallen. But it was the door which bulged on its hinges. It might have
been a sledge hammer that struck it. At the second blow, a stout panel

The third blow smashed the panel altogether. It was no hammer. A
great, knuckled fist projected into the room. Another fist struck. The
whole door buckled. A voice boomed.

"Hey, Doc! Holy cow! You in there?"

Doc called, "Keep back, Renny, keep back! Poison gas!"

"Howlin' calamities!" howled the voice of Monk. "Lemme get at them
windows, Renny!"

Side by side, the giant Renny and the grotesque, apelike chemist
shouldered into the room. The draught from the door fanned the fire.
Their clothes smoked.

But they took the windows. They smashed them with their big fists.
Sashes and glass disintegrated. Renny and Monk were holding their
breaths. So were Ham and Long Tom. The latter two were freeing Doc.

Within forty seconds after the door had been smashed by the great
fists of Renny, Doc and the others were clumping down the stairs.
Above them, the top of the loft building was an inferno. A dense cloud
of flame and smoke rolled out over the river.

Fire apparatus was wailing into the street. Doc led the way from a
side door. So far as outside information was concerned, he desired it
to be believed he had perished in the burning loft.

AGAIN it was night.

Doc Savage was directing the stowing away of a strange contrivance
aboard the speediest of his tri-motored planes. The plane was fueled
for four thousand miles. Not that it carried an extraordinary amount
of gas and oil. The new motors, more modern than any other in the
world, consumed a minimum of fuel.

Doc's companions saw a new machine had been placed aboard. The machine
was in the form of an immense snubnosed cylinder. Part of its
construction must have been a new combination of the vitreous elements
of glass. Coils of pipes and a few tanks could be seen plainly through
the outer shell.

This machine had just been delivered from the electro-chemical machine
plant. It had been constructed within twelve hours.

Doc had inquired what had brought his companions to the burning loft

"A woman called us," had been Renny's reply. "The phone was ringing at
the hangar when we arrived. The woman said to be on the top floor of
that loft building at six o'clock, just at sunset. We made it just in

All of the signs at the now burned loft building indicated Doc had
been conveyed there by several men. A woman, and Doc believed a red-
headed woman, had been in command of the crowd that had taken him

Was there still another woman involved?

The man of bronze had arrived at one definite conclusion. Already
several foreign countries were in the market for the power that had
paralyzed New York, haunted the ocean. And most nations find women,
pretty women, valuable for this class of intrigue.

The big plane was ready to taxi from the hangar onto the wide Hudson
River for its take-off. Doc Savage made a telephone connection with

FROM the White House came new and startling news.

The crew of a rescued lifeboat from the missing Trafalgar Square had

"Men in the boat say they were hauled at tremendous speed by some
invisible force," Doc Savage was informed.

"That might account for their being in the vicinity of the Lofoten
Islands," stated Doc. "The boats were picked up not far from Moskenes
Island, near Salten Fjord."

"How did you know that?" came the amazed voice from the White House.

"Mere surmise," stated Doc. "You have no word of the war commission,
but you probably have received a new message."

"Yes. Another relayed radio. I'll read it: 'The United States must
disarm. So must all other nations. You have five days to decide. The
navy must be laid up. The army must be disbanded. All armament must be
destroyed. The same order applies to all nations of the world. Peace
will be applied at any price.'"

"Sounds as if the sender knew definitely what can be done," stated

"Yes," said the White House. "If we only had Arne Dass here to advise
us. He knew a great deal about atomic energy he never revealed."

"Perhaps we may find Arne Dass," said Doc.

He gave no reason for his belief.

As the conversation ended, Monk was dragging Habeas Corpus aboard the
plane. The Arabian pig already was shivering. He had seen the queer
suit of fur Monk had provided for him.

"We leave at once for the Lofoten Islands off the coast of Norway,"
Doc announced. "Perhaps we shall soon have a trace of the war
commission and Johnny."

On the open sea, far in the north, at least one man in a lifeboat
would have been gratified to know Doc Savage's plan. At the time the
bronze man's speedy plane took off from the Hudson River, the position
of Johnny and those with him was hardly enviable.


EIGHT men occupied the open lifeboat. Two were in the uniform of
sailors. The other six wore plain business attire. Luckily they had
heavy-collared overcoats. These they had with them for the chilly
crossing of the stormy English Channel.

None of the six had suspected what extremes of cold these same coats
would be called upon to resist.

The faces of the six men indicated they were uncomfortable, and
completely mystified.

The lifeboat was now speeding through the calm, green water of an
inner channel under towering ice cliffs. At first glance, it would
have appeared the lifeboat was moving by black magic. No propeller
swirled at its stern. Its bow cut the water on a rising crest.

One of the men was a skeletonlike figure. He shook in his big coat as
if his long, skinny body would fall apart. He had the fine,
intelligent face of a scholar.

He was the fifth man of Doc Savage's highly trained group, William
Harper Littlejohn. Once he had occupied a chair of applied science in
a leading university of America. But since he had shared the
adventures of the great bronze giant, he had come to be known simply
as "Johnny."

Now Johnny said, "In no other locale has there ever been such
opalescent radiation, even in the summer. At that time, the continuous
solar suspension above the horizon produces streams of light from all
parts of the periphery which diffuses vertically over the hemisphere."

"Jolly well put, Mr. Littlejohn!" replied a ruddy-faced man with a
drooping gray mustache. "If I were not feeling so fearfully peckish, I
might appreciate the thought. By jove, it will go tough with these
blighters when His Majesty's navy arrives!"

The man was Sir Arthur Westcott, British member of the abducted war
commission. He had not the slightest idea what Johnny had been talking
about. But he had everlasting faith in the British navy.

Johnny seldom used a short word when he could find a longer one. Just
now, he had been speaking of the effect of the Midnight Sun. In the
summer season, the sun never dropped below the horizon. At this season
it did not rise above the rim.

Yet, where there should have been darkness, relieved only by the
northern lights, the big lifeboat was speeding through daylight of a
strange white quality.

JOHNNY spoke in simple English the others could understand.

"If only we had some way of getting in touch with Doc Savage," he
said, thoughtfully. "But we had no warning. No time. And now we've got
no radio. We are in a dead world, except for that mysterious monster
with the horns. But Doc Savage would know what to do."

"You seem to have a lot of confidence in this person Doc Savage, old
fellow," said Sir Arthur, pulling at his long mustache. "I would
prefer to rely upon His Majesty's navy. After all, old chap, the
British navy goes everywhere."

"I'm inclined to believe Doc Savage has been places even the British
navy never will see," smiled Johnny.

He thoroughly respected His Majesty's sea force. But Johnny had his
doubts about British warships chasing a mechanical undersea monster
into the treacherous channels and fjords inside the Lofoten Islands.

Johnny's other companions were Baron Calosa, of Italy; Monsieur
Lamont, of France; Herr Schumann, of Germany, and Señor Torron, of

None had evolved any theory which might have explained the four
mysterious prongs drawing their boat closer to the icy polar region.
The prongs might indeed have been the horns of some underwater

The eerie daylight bathed the blue, icy water. The intense radiation
obscured the customary northern lights, the aurora borealis.

Perhaps a hundred yards ahead of the big lifeboat projected the four
prongs. These cut through the calm sea. No turmoil of whirling
propellers was apparent.

From the bow of the lifeboat extended a slender steel cable. This drew
the boat along at great speed. All instruments with which this cable
might have been cut had been removed. The lifeboat bore the name, "S.
S. TRAFALGAR SQUARE, DOVER, ENG." The steel cable ran down into the

"I'd jolly well like to know if the blighters down there can see us
through those queer eyes?" complained Sir Arthur.

The four prongs traveled a few feet apart in a straight line. The eyes
were like great mirrors. They reflected the strange daylight with
dazzling radiation. This sometimes nearly blinded the eight men in the

GREAT, glittering bergs of ice came floating over the horizon from the
north. This horizon now appeared to be defined by a definite circle of
the daylight.

"If we only could guess what all this means," added Johnny. "Here we
are a war commission bent on ending war. We are bundled out of our
berths in the middle of the night. We don't see the men with the guns,
but evidently they forced every one to leave the Trafalgar Square. Do
you suppose the other lifeboats have been brought up here?"

None of the others had any answer to this.

Undoubtedly, the projecting prongs were attached to some new and
incredible undersea craft. Yet it never had descended far enough to
submerge the rearing prongs. Johnny was shrewd enough to deduce that
these horns and the mirrorlike eyes had something to do with the
motion of the craft.

If there were motors of tremendous power, then why was the progress of
the submarine so noiseless?

Again Sir Arthur Westcott affirmed his faith in the British navy.

"They'll jolly well have a hundred boats searching for us," he
declared. "They'll find us if they have to send out the whole British

Doubtless the whole British navy would have been turned out if
necessary to rescue the war commission. But just now His Majesty's
sailors were having a puzzle all their own in the North Sea.

Daylight had struck at an unearthly hour. In all of a vast area, every
vessel from fishing trawlers to patrol destroyers had become
powerless. On all of the wide expanse through which the strangely
abducted commission had moved, not another boat was capable of motion.


HIS MAJESTY'S farthest north submarine was in the vicinity of the
Lofoten Islands. Its presence was by the chance of having been sent to
investigate the drift of ice along the Norwegian coast. The influence
of the Gulf Stream to some extent kept this shore clear of solid

The commander of the submarine had been exploring the hundred-mile
shelf of the ocean along the northern Norway coast. This shelf, having
a depth of five hundred to six hundred feet, extended for some hundred
miles from the mountainous shore.

The submarine had been cruising on the surface during the night. The
craft's radio had picked up the broadcast of the apparent disaster
overtaking the Trafalgar Square in the English Channel. The commander
made note of this.

The Channel crossing between Dover and Calais was too distant to cause
concern to a submarine crew in the vicinity of the Lofoten Islands.

But now, when there should be only the dark sea above, the surface had
taken on the glowing aspect of daylight. The commander ordered the
submerging tanks pumped out. His Majesty's submarine nosed slowly

The commander himself was at the periscope glass. The slender tube
poked above the calm water.

"Well, by jove!" he exclaimed. "I'm seeing things! That could not
possibly be a lifeboat sailing along like that under its own steam!
Crickety! Have a look, lieutenant! It's a boat from the steamer
Trafalgar Square!"

"You're jolly well right, sir!" exclaimed the lieutenant. Then he
muttered darkly, "But I do not believe in sea serpents, and if those
are not the horns of some monsters, I'm crazy!"

The commander rapped out a hurried order. The submarine tanks hissed.
The undersea craft was coming up.

"MAYBE you're right, after all, Sir Arthur," said Johnny. "His
Majesty's navy does seem to get around."

He was forced to speak loudly because of the whistling wind. Sir
Arthur exclaimed jubilantly and tugged at his mustache. The periscope
of the submarine had come into view.

The submarine was moving at good speed.

"Britannia still rules the waves, old chap!" said Sir Arthur.

The towing prongs with their flashing mirrors had suddenly lessened
their speed. The moving periscope was possibly less than one hundred
yards away. The submarine did not seem to have had its power affected
as had surface craft.

Johnny and those in the lifeboat had no means of knowing of the
suspension of power. If they had, they would not have been so
confident that help had arrived.

Those operating the craft of the four mysterious prongs apparently had
known of the submarine's approach. The speed of the prongs lessened to
about the same movements as the British boat.

"Good grief!" exploded Johnny. "You don't suppose our friends are
planning to fight?"

"The blighters will be handled expeditiously," assured Sir Arthur.
"They are under His Majesty's guns."

The submarine was taking the surface. It headed directly for the
lifeboat. The long black hull was only a hundred yards or so away when
it broke the water. The conning tower thrust its round shape into
view. The submarine reversed its engines. The propellers sucked in
tons of water.

Machinery clanked. The hatch of the conning tower was opening. Gilt-
braided officers came onto the iron-back deck.

Again the mirrored prongs moved more rapidly. They started pulling the
lifeboat away from the submarine.

"Heave to, in the name of His Majesty!" bellowed a British voice from
the submarine.

THE prongs started in a tantalizing circle of the British sub.

Another sharp order was barked. It gained no attention.

Then a rapid-firing deck gun swung from the conning tower. The
submarine still was moving slowly. Its motors had not yet felt the
effect of the mysterious power which seemed to accompany the eerie

The sub's deck gun barked viciously. The shot skipped across the green
water. Whether by accident or intention, the shell clipped squarely
into one of the moving prongs. The horn snapped off. Its mirror
reflector vanished into the sea.

Instantly, the other three prongs moved faster.

Johnny had no long words now.

"My gosh!" he exploded. "They shoot off its horns, and still it
doesn't stop! Look! What's happened?"

There was apparent consternation aboard the British sub. The officers
were waving their arms. Voices shouted. The submarine had ceased to
move. Its engines had been suddenly paralyzed.

"I wonder about that!" muttered Johnny. "That sub seemed all right
until it came up. Remember, the engines of the Trafalgar Square were
stopped suddenly, just before they grabbed us?"

The submarine commander was barking more orders. Apparently, he had
the thought to close the hatch of the conning tower. But the motor
operating the machinery was also dead.

"And that apparently washes up your British navy," declared Johnny.
"Now what?"

From under the submarine emerged a slender, fishlike shape. It was a
long, deadly torpedo. The quick-witted commander had ordered the
explosive in an effort to halt the strange prongs.

The torpedo had been shot from its compartment deep under the water.
Its own motive power sent it streaking across between the lifeboat and
the mirrored prongs.

"Get set!" yelled Johnny. "We're all due for a cold bath! When that
thing hits, we'll have to jump!"

The torpedo was perhaps halfway from the sub to the three moving
prongs. Johnny wondered if it were traveling at a depth sufficient to
strike the mystery craft. Then he ceased to wonder.

The torpedo seemed to expire like a fish suddenly harpooned. It
floated to the surface without forward motion. It became very much of
a dud. The strange power of this daylight in The Land of the Midnight
Sun had killed the torpedo motor.

THERE was no explosion. An effort to release another torpedo from the
British sub failed. Orders were barked. From the waving of arms, it
was indicated the commander wished to submerge immediately. Perhaps he
imagined his disabled engines could work underwater.

But there was no clanking of machinery. The conning tower hatch
remained open. The British sub floated as helplessly as the dead

The three pronged mirrors were speeding up. The lifeboat resumed its
northern course at a fast pace.

And the war commission of six great nations was again on its way to an
undetermined destination.

"Anyway," declared Johnny, "I'm now sure of one thing. This whole
incredible happening has been too big for Doc Savage to miss. We'll be
hearing from him."

Johnny was partly correct. Doc Savage's plane was not far away. But it
would be some time before this would be of any help to Johnny and his


DOC SAVAGE'S plane motors were probably the most noiseless of any in
the world skies. The big cabin ship was being held at an altitude of
only a thousand feet above the shifting surface of the North Sea.

Though it was night, Doc Savage was scanning the ocean intently. Every
wave crest and every floating object was clearly revealed. Yet no
visible light projected from the plane toward the dark water.

Doc was wearing a pair of oversize goggles with complex lenses. From
under the plane shot an invisible beam, which spread over a wide area.
In the radius of this beam everything became outlined in stark black
and white, much like a motion picture.

The beam was an infra-red ray. The goggles worn by Doc and his four
companions made the beam serve as a great light.

"We're on another blind spot," announced Long Tom from the radio,
which he was handling. "And, Doc, this location doesn't seem to check
with the position we fixed back in New York. Anyway, the dead area
seems to be in motion."

The radio reception was highly static. Yet it picked up stuttering

From Washington came, "Still no word has been received of the missing
war commission."

From London more exciting news was being broadcast.

"Warning to all ships--strange disturbance in North Sea--many boats
disabled--queer light has appeared--"

Then came an extra flash.

One of His Majesty's submarines was unreported in the Far North, in
the vicinity of the Lofoten Islands.

"Doc," exclaimed Monk, "isn't that where we're headed?"

"That would seem to be our immediate destination," stated Doc. "The
other report is not surprising. Our radio blind spot is in that

"This daylight thing they're reporting, Doc?" questioned Ham. "After
what happened to us in Maryland, suppose the same thing smashes us
down away up here? Then what do we do?"

Doc merely smiled and said nothing.

"Ham, you're gettin' to be as big a calamity howler as Monk!" grumbled

Doc's companions had been intensely curious concerning the immense
glass-like cylinder aboard the plane. But Doc had explained nothing of
its purpose.

Suddenly Doc sighted a drifting ship. It showed like a silent, ghostly
silhouette in the infra-red beam.

"We have reached the Trafalgar Square," Doc announced. "The steamer
has been wrecked on the rocks."

THE abandoned Trafalgar Square was solidly wedged in the rocks of the
forbidding coast. Its bow plates had been crumpled.

Doc brought the plane to a smooth landing close to the ship. It became
necessary to use one of the rubber pontoon boats to reach the vessel.
Monk was dragging the pig along.

When they reached the high side of the ghostly steamer on the rocks,
Habeas Corpus stiffened. He resisted Monk's effort to drag him aboard.

"Dag-gone it, Doc!" exclaimed Monk. "I don't like this! That pig knows
something's screwy about all this!"

Doc was carrying a square, black box with a lens that looked like
black glass. This was a fluoroscope. The man of bronze walked along
the tilted side deck of the Trafalgar Square. He passed the lens of
the box along various stateroom windows.

Suddenly there was a curious blue glowing on one window pane. Words
leaped into view.

"I hoped Johnny might find time to leave some message," said Doc.

But the words furnished little information:

Doc, if you see this, the war commission is being taken into a
lifeboat by armed men--our engines stopped--all of the crew and
passengers are taking to the boats--

This was all. The message had been written with a chalky substance
that fluoresced under the ultra-violet ray, sometimes called "black

Doc led the way to the big engine room. There was no sign of life
about the passenger steamer. Nor was there evidence of violence.

DOC wasted no further time aboard the Trafalgar Square. The passenger
steamer was doomed to break up on the rocks with the first storm.

The tri-motored plane headed again into the north. Almost immediately,
the radio sputtered and ceased functioning. The stark, rocky-headed
coast of Norway was picked up. Doc Savage set the controls immediately
to gain altitude.

"It's the same thing, Doc!" exclaimed Ham. "Only this time it's coming
out of the north! This isn't such a hot spot to be forced down!"

"Into all of your heaviest stuff," instructed Doc. "We are approaching
what I had feared. See that you have all of our equipment. We have
many other things already aboard."

These final words were somewhat of a mystery.

But the swiftly increasing dawn in the north was no mystery to Ham and
Monk. It was the same white daylight they had witnessed off the
Maryland coast. Only the plane was headed directly into the area, and
this dawn seemed to be arriving more swiftly.

The motors labored in the higher altitude. Doc opened a switch. There
was a slight hissing from the sides of the cabin. The ventilators had
been tightly closed. Oxygen was now filling the cabin. It was
necessary at this great height.

Then from the night around the plane came the steady humming of power.
Motors droned in the sky. It was as if unknown ships of the
stratosphere were thundering down to intercept their own plane.

"Planes!" boomed Renny. "An' listen to them motors! Boy! They sound
like thunder itself!"

"There are only three planes," Doc announced. "They are tri-motored
like our own plane, but they have a different sound from any I have
ever heard."

Apparently the pilots of the three mysterious planes at this unusual
altitude had no intention of intercepting Doc Savage's ship. Or
perhaps they had missed it altogether in the darkness.

Slowly, the thunder of the strange motors died away.

"Well," breathed Long Tom, "I guess we're out of that one, all right!
Now I wonder--"

THE electrician did not complete his question.

With the suddenness of a bursting Very flare, daylight struck the sky.
It was an enveloping whiteness that gathered the tri-motored plane
into its band of illumination.

The big trio of motors were instantly silenced. Possibly six miles
above the earth, Doc Savage's plane had lost all power.

"Be prepared to leave quickly, when we land," advised Doc, as calmly
as if they were about to alight from some automobile on land. "Have
everything ready. We may have little time."

That mysterious northern light was not the aurora borealis. Yet it
illuminated all of the bleak, hard coast in infinite detail. Back from
the inlet of the ocean stretched the great plateau of Norway.

Closer to the ocean, wide glaciers moved inexorably down upon the
scores of fjords to be seen from this great height. Some of these sea
channels extended for many miles inland.

This land now was intensely cold. The insulated walls of the big plane
excluded the chill. But the temperature ranged far below the zero
mark. The wisdom of Doc Savage in ordering Arctic outfits was proved.

"Habeas Corpus won't like this," complained Monk. "I oughta got him
some blinkers. He'll get snow blindness."

"And if he gets some kind of permanent blindness, it will be perfectly
all right with me," retorted Ham, ironically.

Doc Savage was gliding as slowly as possibly with the weighted plane.

"Look, comrades!" he directed. "Those blue shadows over there are the
Lofoten Islands. One of those is Moskenes Island. That is what Hjalmar
Landson spoke of just before he died."

BETWEEN the blue shadows and the mainland was an expanse of smooth,
green water. At different points, three dark blots seemed to be

Doc's keen eyes saw more than those of his companions.

"Fishing boats and they are powerless," he said. "Two of the crews
have rigged up crude sails. They are making for shore and there must
be a village."

Between two ice walls near a fjord appeared a dark spot. Smoke eddied

"Perhaps we are in luck," stated Doc. "Anyway, that is a Norwegian or
Laplander fishing village. These folk are usually friendly."

"Holy cow!" boomed Renny. "I hope they're friendly! This would be a
tough spot to be on our own!"

They were to discover these simple fishermen were not friendly. The
welcome signs had been taken off this particular village.


PERHAPS there were other fliers who could have made that landing on
the icy sea. But few indeed could have set the loaded plane on that
green surface without either dragging off the tail assembly or nosing

Doc Savage slid the pontoons onto the surface as if they were greased.
The plane settled deeply, but remained upright.

Against the strange daylight, the mountains of the coast bulked like
huge, blue cathedrals. Glaciers filled the valleys.

As the plane settled, Doc's men poured out onto the wings.

"It won't be much of a job to get ashore here in the rubber boats,"
commented Long Tom. "We can make several trips and take off what
supplies we may need."

Doc Savage stood outlined against the fuselage. He was looking into
the north. Up there, the area of daylight seemed to be banked solidly
against a black curtain. For a few seconds the other four men heard
the bronze man's weird trilling note.

Habeas Corpus was standing on the wing of the plane. His body had
become rigid. His long nose pointed northward.

"Dag-gone it!" advised Monk. "The pig smells something!"

"I might suggest you move away from him," grated Ham. Clearly the pig
was scared. Then Doc turned quickly.

"I've been afraid of that all the time," he remarked. "This haunted
ocean has two-way power. Force to disable and another force to supply
motor energy."

The bronze man's meaning became all too apparent.

Out of that black curtain to the northward flashed three objects. From
specks, they speedily took on the shape of speeding planes.

And they approached with flashing speed. They must have been hitting
three hundred miles an hour. For they were directly above the plane
floating on the sea almost before Doc's men had started to move.

"It would be just as well to stay outside until they pass over,"
advised Doc. "The results would be the same."

HIS judgment was quickly proved. The three planes were flying low.
They passed over at a height of barely one hundred feet.

"Holy cow!" grunted Renny. "Doc, did you notice? All you can hear is
the wind of their props! Their motors aren't makin' any noise at all!"

"That made itself quite evident," stated Doc. "But when they passed us
in the night up above, their motors were noisy enough. I would suggest
they are not now flying with the same motors."

Monk was dancing around on the wing. His short legs and long arms made
him look surprisingly like an excited chimpanzee.

"It was her, Doc! That red-headed dame!" Monk was shouting. "An' I
thought maybe she was O.K.! But she's in one of them planes! I saw her
face an' her red hair!"

"He's right," drawled Long Tom. "And that fellow Kama was in the same
plane. They were looking down. Doc, we've been trailed all the way
across the Atlantic."

"So I surmised," said Doc, calmly. "Yes, it was red-headed Lora Krants
and that fellow who says he came from San Tao. Now get inside. They'll
be coming back."

Only the two faces had been observed in the flashing planes. It could
only be guessed who the other occupants of the ships might be.

The three planes vanished quickly to the southward. But they were not
absent long.

Doc and his men were back inside the cabin. The man of bronze pulled
levers at the end of the big glasslike cylinder. A tight-fitting cover
slid smoothly open. Inside there was only room for a few persons.

"We'll wait for a moment," advised Doc. "But be prepared to get in
quickly. We are about to be attacked."

Almost immediately, the three planes again whispered in the sky. They
were flying back over their course. This time they had lifted a few
hundred feet. Long Tom and Renny already were squeezing into the close
spaces inside the glasslike cylinder.

"But what is the thing, Doc?" said Ham. "You don't mean--That won't go
under the water, will it?"

"That is the purpose for which it was designed," stated Doc, calmly.
"It may accomplish more than just going under the water."

The three planes again passed over.

"I noticed something funny, Doc," said Ham. "Those planes didn't have
any shadows when they passed the first time."

"Without direct light from above, shadows could not be expected,"
stated Doc.

Ham shivered, then said quickly, "One of 'em's banking, Doc. It's
coming back!"

ONE of the swift planes of mysterious power had separated from the
others. Directly over the floating Doc Savage ship, it tipped its
wings in a descending spiral.

Doc and his men did not see the shining object flash toward the water.
By sheer luck, the aim of the pilot was poor.

The object struck more than fifty yards from Doc's plane. The erupting
explosion geysered tons of water. A huge wave threatened to wreck the

"Inside, all of you!" ordered Doc. "He will probably have his distance
better gauged the next time."

The glasslike cylinder provided just enough room for the five men and
little more. They were surrounded by a variety of metallic tanks.

"Holy cow!" growled Renny. "It's going to be plenty dark!"

Doc said nothing. He ran his hand along a panel. This uncovered long
tubes. The tubes suddenly glowed with a weird blue light. The
emanation was phosphorescent in character. It provided illumination.

Doc did not say what chemicals had been employed. It was apparent the
lighting system did not depend on electrical current.

The entrance lid of the big cylinder slid into place. Doc turned some
knobs and a slow hissing came from some of the tanks. Oxygen was being
slowly released.

"Now if we only had some power, we'd being going places," said Ham. "I
suppose our next stop will be the bottom. And the shelf along this
coast, they say, is nearly six hundred feet deep!"

The faith of Doc's companions assured them that the contrivance they
now occupied probably had been provided with everything. Everything,
but power, they imagined.

Habeas Corpus grunted. His long nose poked into Ham's neck. Ham made a
move as to withdraw his sword cane.

"You get that crossed-up quadruped out of my neck," he yelled, "or I'm
slicing off one of his ears!"

Monk only grinned and grunted. The floor of the cabin sagged and
tilted. One of the pontoons had been cracked by the exploding bomb.
The three planes still whispered above them.

"Probably the next one will be better directed," stated Doc. "I think
it is time we are leaving."

There was a grinding noise. The floor of the cabin seemed to dissolve
under the big cylinder. It dropped by its own weight into the green
water. Hardly had it submerged under the floating plane before
concussion threatened to cave in its glasslike sides.

The second bomb above had made a direct hit. Doc Savage's ship had
been destroyed with a blast that scattered its parts. No person could
then have been in the cabin and remained alive.

IN one of the planes overhead, a man's voice spoke.

"The great Doc Savage is finished!" he said, venomously. "His
knowledge was the only thing in the world we had to fear. If he had
been given time, he would have got to the bottom of the mystery."

"Dot iss goot!" spoke a voice with a broad accent. "Ven do ve haff der
price to puy?"

"Perhaps the sale still rests on the figures of the highest bidder,"
said the other voice. "No nation has a treasury too big to risk all of
it for this power. A few men alone could control the world."

"Dot is vot makes der vun man to slit anoder man's throat," suggested
the other voice.

"Yes, and the throat-slitting will be well taken care of," said the
first man. "Any nation will buy. Which one, will be for me to decide.
We no longer have Doc Savage to fear."

The three mystery planes streamed again into single line. In one of
these planes sat Lora Krants, the red-headed young woman. She was
staring at the green sea as they passed over where Doc Savage's plane
had rested.

Nothing of the metal ship still floated. But all about was a multi-
colored rainbow spread of oil.

"He is gone," the girl whispered.

"Yes, that's the end of Doc Savage," said the dark-browed young man
beside her.

A yellow-skinned man showed his flashing teeth.

"Those who tamper with the will of the infinite invite their own
destruction," he remarked, cheerfully.

Apparently, the man called Kama was not grievously affected by the
evidence of Doc Savage's swift and gruesome death.

THOUGH crowded into the compact space of the cylinder, Doc's crew was
comfortable. For several minutes, the cylinder remained suspended like
a toy balloon floating in air. The last bit of the wrecked plane had
slowly sifted toward the bottom of the sea.

Now the cylinder started sinking again. It reached a depth where the
pressure must have been terrific. But the material of which the
strange diving affair was constructed was capable of resisting.

"This feels like being in a coffin," complained Renny. "Doc, this
makes some hide-out, but it seems to be a little too good."

Doc Savage smiled and said nothing. His bronze hands were busy.

"It is advisable to wait a little while," stated Doc. "We are in
conflict with more than one clever brain. Many nations are in the
market for this white light of the haunted ocean. It is a power that
would make the smallest of countries absolute."

The man of bronze was waiting until he was convinced the men in the
three planes could not possibly suspect his men and himself had

Now Doc moved a small lever. To his companions' amazement, the
cylinder was instantly filled with the throb of power. A small control
steered the craft. Close to the murky bottom of the ice-cold sea, the
cylinder moved like a great fish seeking for food.

"Holy cow!" exploded Renny. "What a submarine! Now maybe we can go
places! Have you discovered the power that kept those planes in the
air, Doc?"

The bronze man shook his head.

"Perhaps we shall find that out later," he said. "For the present, we
are moving by the release of compressed air."


HABEAS CORPUS didn't like his close quarters. Even in the face of
deadly danger, Ham had discovered a means of annoying Monk. When the
fur-clad pig squeezed too close to Ham, the lawyer jabbed the point of
his signet-ring knife into the animal's tough hide.

The pig grunted. Monk swore at Ham. The fur on the pig was not
intended for inside wear. The Arabian misfit became most malodorous.

The cylinder might have been moving toward the shore.

"If we have to break out of this thing down here, we'll be
pulverized," said Ham. "It isn't big enough to have submerging tanks,
so we can't expel any water to rise to the surface."

This was somewhat of a grisly thought to the others. The oxygen in the
tanks could not last forever. The time during which they could breathe
was now being reduced to minutes.

Doc Savage made no reply. From flat alloy containers, he was pouring
three powdered chemicals into an odd-shaped retort. A tube extended
from this vessel into the side of the cylinder.

The cylinder had been constructed with a double wall. Between the
skins was considerable space. This space had been made a vacuum.

The envelope of the cylinder was filling. The contrivance was being
given buoyancy. The cylinder started toward the surface.

"Holy cow!" exclaimed Renny. "Now we're all set! That gang run by the
red-headed dame believes we're dead! Doc, we can land at that fishing
village! It won't be any trick at all to find out about this haunted
ocean stuff!"

DOC SAVAGE was watching a small compass. The rocks of the shore loomed
under water like a black wall. The man of bronze set a course along
these rocks. Soon the cylinder was nosing into a fjord.

"Your idea is not bad, Renny," said Doc. "But I have a feeling our
appearance may prove somewhat of a shock to these fishermen. That will
be especially true if they are Laplanders."

A sandy spit projected between two bulking rocks. At its end was a
small wharf. The glass cylinder was only a few yards under the
surface. A queer figure stood at the end of the little wharf. His garb
was that of some shaggy animal. The skins had been sun-cured with the
fur on.

The man's face was furrowed by weather and sun. Beady, black eyes were
peering down into the water. The man emitted a yell. He shouted two
words. Then he caught up a long-handled walrus harpoon and hurled it

The words were in the Laplander tongue. "Sea devil!"

The point of the harpoon bumped the cylinder. Doc and the others saw
the weapon flash downward.

"You said they were a very primitive people, Doc," remarked Ham. "I
have a feeling our arrival is inauspicious."

"More than possibly there will be some misunderstanding," said Doc
Savage. "Have your weapons ready, but don't use them unless compelled
to do so."

Monk, Long Tom and Renny were armed with their super-firing pistols.
These weapons had huge drums loaded with mercy bullets. Doc Savage and
his men did not kill unless it was absolutely unavoidable. The bullets
in these queer guns would render men unconscious.

The cylinder's nose was pushed into the frozen sand. Doc snapped open
the door. He was the first to slide out. Before the others could
emerge, the air was filled with angry, frightened shouting.

Doc Savage understood the tongue of the Northland. So did Ham. From a
score of places in the rocks came the booming of guns. Harpoons and
spears hurtled toward them. Lesser crackling explosions were the more

The booming weapons were old-fashioned, muzzle-loading guns of the
type used for shooting birds with small shot. The others were rifles.

The shouts were repeated.

"Kill the devils of the sea!" they meant. "Kill the devils of the sea!
They make dead men float!"

This last was a remarkably queer statement.

Doc and Ham slid to the temporary cover of a big rock. Renny, Monk and
Long Tom found another rock. The pig, Habeas Corpus, had been
plastered with fine shot. He let out an unearthly squeal.

Perhaps a hundred fur-clad figures showed among the rocks of the
shore. Behind them was a circle of huts, made of skins stretched on
poles. Thick, greasy smoke poured from vents in the top of these.

Shooting stopped for a few seconds. One strange figure in skins was
pointing at Habeas Corpus. His words were, "Spawn of the sea devil!
Kill! Kill!"

It looked bad for Habeas Corpus. The pig stood shivering. The heavy
haft of a harpoon struck the apelike Monk across the forehead. He fell
down and rolled into cover. For a minute, the chemist was stunned.

There seemed no hope for the trembling hog. The pig's big ears waved.

"That miserable pig's my own personal meat! I've been saving him!"
asserted Ham, suddenly. Two squat Laplanders were rushing upon Habeas
Corpus. They held long harpoons. The slender figure of Ham moved with
incredible speed. There was a whirling gleam of steel.

"You come asking for it!" yelled Ham.

The Laplanders turned their harpoons upon him. The fighting lawyer was
between the weapons. His sword moved too fast to be followed. Its
needlelike point flicked through the fur of one man. A harpoon struck
the rocks.

The Laplander only grunted once. Then he apparently went to sleep. The
other harpoon struck sidewise and knocked Ham to his knees. His sword
point jabbed the fur-clad wrist of the wielder. This Laplander, too,
dropped on his face.

With an expression of utter loathing on his ascetic face, Ham grabbed
one of the pig's long ears. Shot whistled around him as he dragged the
hog to safety.

Though some of the villagers looked grotesquely small, others were of
giant size. In their skin clothes, they looked like the real Vikings
of a past century.

Doc arose and began speaking in their own language.


"WE come in peace," stated Doc Savage. "You have had some trouble. For
that, you have united."

The man of bronze had quickly analyzed an unusual situation. Some of
the men of this queer village were the dark, squat Lapps. Others were
the huskier, blond Norwegians.

Only some common danger could have drawn them together. They were of
different speech, habits, dress and thought. Even now, a commanding
figure was stepping into view.

Doc had spoken in the Norwegian language.

"Vaer god! Vaer god!" The commanding figure shouted to the Lapps and
his own fellow Norwegians.

The words meant simply, "Be good!" This tall leader was open to
argument. The Lapps were the more numerous. They did not heed.

"Na! Na! Na!" some shouted.

Another rain of harpoons showered from among the rocks. Guns exploded.
Some poorly aimed shot blasted the face of the Norwegian leader. Blood
flowed from his torn cheek.

Perhaps others imagined the wound had been inflicted by Doc's men. A
strange, small figure appeared on a rock. He was as small as a half-
grown boy. But white locks of matted hair framed his diminutive,
wrinkled face.

Doc Savage instantly identified him as a jarl, one of the sub-chiefs
of the coastal clan.

"Na! Na! Na!" this old man shrilled, joining the angry Lapps.

Again were uttered the words meaning "sea devils."

The man of bronze was forced to drop behind a rock. Plainly the
fishermen had been terrorized.

Lapps and Norwegians jabbered. Their eyes were fixed in fear upon the
glasslike cylinder.

Doc Savage knew the many legends of the Edda. Norwegian fishermen were
a superstitious lot. The Lapps perhaps were worse. They believed in
huldrefok, evil fairies of the fjords.

Recalling these legends, Doc Savage realized the fishermen would not
feel safe unless they exterminated these men they believed to be sea

Doc spoke to his companions in ancient Mayan.

"Do not kill any of these people under any circumstances," said the
bronze man. "They are harmless, but greatly frightened."

"Howlin' calamities!" yelped Monk. "We won't last long unless we do

Steel-headed harpoons clanged on the rocks. Shotguns continued

AGAIN the bronze man spoke quickly in Mayan. Then he sprang from
behind the rock. With a striding glide, he was close to the nearest
group of fishermen.

From his garments, Doc flipped four of the usually effective
anaesthetic capsules. The fragile glass tinkled on the rocks. The
nearest Lapps subsided in grotesque heaps of furs.

But the winter air was clear and cold. A chill wind swept by. Lapps
and Norwegians rushed upon the bronze man. The gas capsules were not
effective over enough area.

For several seconds, the Lapps armed with harpoons must have imagined
they had been struck by a cyclone. Doc narrowly escaped being impaled.
But his bronzed fists were moving too fast for the eye to follow.

Fishermen armed with harpoons tumbled and groaned.

The point of a harpoon caught Doc's right arm. That whirled him from
his feet. Half a dozen weapons were aimed at his body. He was for the
moment helpless to ward these off.

"Holy cow!" thundered Renny. "Let 'em have it!"

There arose a deep humming like giant bullfiddles. The superfirers
streamed mercy bullets from the hands of Renny, Monk and Long Tom.

Fishermen were piled in a heap around Doc Savage. Doc's men rushed
out. Warm liquid gushed from Doc's wounded arm and dripped from his

There were too many fishermen scattered about to be reached by the
mercy bullets. Doc and his men were in one of the tightest spots of
their career.

The haft of a heavy harpoon cracked Renny's skull. The big engineer
grunted and fell down. Ham's sword was broken in his hand by the blast
of a shotgun.

Then Doc's men were given respite from an unexpected source.

The uncanny daylight winked out. The eerie illumination was shut off
as abruptly as if some one had pulled a switch. There was no lingering
twilight. Only the shadowy fingers of the aurora borealis beyond the

Comparatively, the darkness was intense. The fishermen fled into the
rocks. They seemed to fear the shutting off of the inexplicable

RENNY was reviving. Doc ordered the others again into shelter. For
several minutes, there was a lull in the attack.

Oil torches flared. What appeared to be a big pot of blazing whale
blubber suddenly rolled into the open space. Against this smoky glare
the fishermen were crouching shadows, waiting.

"We must undertake a bold move," stated Doc. "All will walk into the
open and throw down your weapons. We must end this misunderstanding or
we will be killed by some of the very people we must free."

The surprise of Doc's strategy must have awed the fishermen for the

Renny and the others walked boldly into the glare of the whale oil
pot. They threw their superfiring pistols with their drums of bullets
in a heap. Ham contributed the hilt of his broken sword.

Doc Savage himself was not armed with any gun. He believed men who
went armed came to rely too much upon mechanical force and not enough
on their own wits and strength.

Doc walked out with the others. His hands were raised.

"Now shelter yourselves," he admonished the others. The figure of the
shriveled, ancient jarl was outlined by a torch. For several seconds,
the surprised sub-chief did not speak. Doc Savage was striding
straight toward the jarl and the largest group of fishermen.

Then the jarl shrilled out a command.

The bronze giant understood the words. They were an order to kill. Doc
kept his hands uplifted.

From the rocks guns started snarling. Some were rifles that cracked
viciously. Leaden shot and bullets hailed into the space.

Doc Savage held his head in a bowed position to protect his face. Lead
pounded onto his bared bronze head. Bullets whammed into his
magnificent torso.

But the bronze man's pace was unaltered. He must have seemed to the
simple, superstitious fishermen like a real devil, or a god of the
sea. He was impervious to their bullets.

Doc's body was sheathed in bulletproof garments of finest chain mesh.
This extended to his knees under his other clothing.

The bronze hair in view was on the outside of a skullcap of thin, but
impenetrable metal alloy. The leaden bullets and fine shot flattened
on this surface.

It was terrifying. This immense bronze giant walking toward them. One
charge of shot blasted from an old-fashioned gun. All of it splattered
squarely into Doc's breast. Yet he neither faltered nor staggered.

This was a little too much for the nerves of the Lapps. They began
squawking. It sounded like, "Wha! Wha! Wha!"

Doc knew this signified one of their spirits of the Skager-Rack. The
Skager-Rack was the devilish turmoil of tides between the North Sea
and the Baltic Sea. Because this claimed so many victims, the Lapps
had peopled it with their own conception of a devil.

The fishermen were throwing down their weapons. The ancient jarl
shrilled commands without effect.

It seemed for the moment as if the bronze man would be able to parley.

But a harpoon whistled from a high rock. A retreating Norwegian had
hurled it as he fled. It was a walrus harpoon and heavy.
Unfortunately, it struck with violent impact across the bone of Doc's
leg below the knee.

Doc was thrown off balance and he fell.

Cries of fear immediately changed into yells of menace. Lapps and
Norwegians united in a rush. Doc was crushed to the ground. He made no

"Let yourselves be taken," he instructed his companions.

THE bronze man permitted thongs of walrus skin and reindeer hide to be
wrapped about his limbs.

The bronze man's companions were similarly bound. The fishermen
apparently had changed their minds about an immediate killing.

Outside the edge of the whale-oil flare had arisen another commotion.
Many of the fishermen were rushing down to the shore of the fjord.
Their oil torches flared across the blue water beyond the glass

"They're about to put our new submarine out of business," said Ham.
"It doesn't look so cheering."

Doc and the others were now lying on the ground near the whale oil
pot. They could see the smooth surface of the fjord.

"Another matter may be to our advantage, temporarily," stated Doc. "I
heard them speak of dead men floating. It seems a dead man has come to
our rescue."

The others now could see the body in the fjord. It was a floating man.
The figure was not half submerged, as a drowned man might be. Instead,
the body floated high on the surface.

The dead man appeared to be buoyant, as if made of cork.


ROUGH hands bore Doc Savage and his men toward a building of
outlandish appearance. The structure was blackened. It appeared to be
very ancient.

"Looks like a place that might be inhabited by some of the devils
they've been talking about," grunted Ham.

"On the contrary," advised Doc, "it's the reverse of that. It is one
of the oldest of churches, called a stavekirker."

The building was without windows. It jutted into many square towers
and sharp gables. On the gables were the blackened prows of ships that
had been wrecked.

The faces of the towers were carved with legendary figures.

The structure was composed of heavy timbers. There was only one
massive door.

Inside was a nave, a shrine and a single broad aisle.

Their captors dumped Doc and the others unceremoniously on the floor
of earth. All but two armed Lapps rushed out again. The excitement
indicated the arrival of the floating dead man was of greater
importance for the moment than the prisoners.

Doc and his men were left to themselves. Two voices were disputing
loudly near by. They were speaking in a queer conglomeration of
languages. Occasionally, they said something in broken English.

Doc disregarded these for the moment.

"All of us saw the phenomenon of the dead man floating in the fjord,"
the bronze giant stated. "Brothers, it is not remarkable these people
have been frightened to killing terror. Dead men do not arise to the
surface in these ice-cold waters for many days, often weeks. Then they
are not perfectly preserved, as was that corpse."

"Do you think it has something to do with the haunted ocean?" said

"I am sure of it," declared Doc. "I believe we are close to the source
of this power. Floating dead men would be an effective means of
driving curious fishermen away."

The quarreling voices beyond the wooden bench were silent for a few
seconds. Then one spoke in broken English.

"Amerikaner!" it exclaimed. "You haff also put yourselves into dis

Two men rolled into view. They were bound with strips of hide.

"Zarkov," stated Doc, instantly. "And Larrone. The haunt of the ocean
seems to be a magnet for many parts of the world."

"Doc Savage!" exclaimed the bearded little man called Zarkov. "So you
haff come here also! But you would not haff come for buying, maybe?"

Larrone spoke in good English, but with an angry snarl.

"It is not so that Doc Savage would buy anything!" he said with
disgust. "If he has his way, none will buy!"

"By that, I infer you have come for the purpose of purchasing this
power," stated Doc. "I recall both of you were once detained in my
country for attempting to purloin some secret of the navy. By the way,
those secrets were those of Arne Dass, the aged scientist, who has
disappeared. Perhaps you would know something of Arne Dass?"

The eyes of the pair met briefly.

"We know nothing of this Arne Dass," said Larrone. "We are engaged in
a legitimate mission."

"I have no doubt of that, from your point of view," stated Doc.

THE man of bronze desired more information.

"Perhaps you could inform us about what these fisherman seem to fear
so greatly?" he suggested. "Before you were taken prisoners, did you
know of these floating dead men?"

Zarkov explained quickly.

For several weeks, fishermen on the coast had been dying mysteriously.
Only the week before, a fishing boat had entered the fjord known as
Satan's Gateway. This fjord was one of those below the great
Jostedalsbrae glacier.

This was the greatest live glacier in Europe. For many thousands of
years, its mountainous ice had covered more than three hundred and
fifty square miles. Ages old, parts of the Jostedalsbrae were covered
with many feet of ice dust.

The great, living glacier was forever moving. Its icy arms reached
into gouged-out valleys. It was believed to have hollowed out immense
caverns under the mountains.

Five men had been aboard the fishing sloop which had entered Satan's
Gateway, Zarkov informed Doc Savage. Four of the five men had died
mysteriously before the boat returned.

But the fishing sloop had come back strangely. For the craft had come
floating into this fjord against a rip tide.

One man, said Zarkov, had lived a short time. And he had spoken of men
who went naked. Naked at a temperature of forty to fifty below zero.
Men who seemed impervious to the cold.

And when all of these five men were dead, their bodies had seemed to
become of the lightness of cork.

Since then, a few other fishermen had lost their boats. They returned,
however, without them. Came back floating like lightest wood, high on
the surface.

FROM outside came cries of lamentation among the fishermen.

Now four women entered the stavekirker that was serving as a prison.
They bore wooden platters of food.

It seemed the woman had been sent to feed the prisoners. Doc's men,
Zarkov and Larrone were fed like children. The women were Lapps. Their
dark faces had little expression. They filled their hands with what
appeared to be a hard, black bread and strips of dried codfish.

"Holy cow!" grunted Renny. "If this ain't somethin'! How'd they think

A greasy hand stuffed his open mouth full of the black bread.

"Dag-gone it!" gulped Monk. "Them dames has been sent to choke us to
death! You don't suppose they're feedin' this junk to Habeas Corpus?"

Ham chuckled through a mouthful of tough fish.

"That's the only thought that makes this meal bearable," he asserted.

"An' I hope you choke first, so you'll quit talkin'," chirped Monk.

When the women left, Zarkov declared the fishermen now would send no
boats near Satan's Gateway.

Only the two guards remained at the single doorway. Doc Savage had
been working at the tough rawhide around his arms. But his right arm
was wounded. The hide cut into his flesh.

The interior of the stavekirker was lighted by only two of the smelly
whale-oil torches.

Ham rolled close to Doc.

"If we could get all of these cords cut at once, we might be able to
make a break for it," he suggested. "I can get at all of you, one at a

The lawyer worked fast. The large signet ring had not been removed
from his middle finger. From inside it sprang a razor-edged knife
blade. With this he worked first on the thongs around Doc's wrists and
ankles. When he had finished, the hide was cut almost through.

Ham went to work on the others. Renny's bonds were cut to the point
where he could have heaved himself loose.

But none were then to go free. Wails arose outside.

"Knut Aage! Knut Aage! Awai! Awai!"

"HOWLIN' calamities!" squealed Monk. "Now it's something else! Sounds
like a funeral!"

"Knut Aage!" said Zarkov. "He is the one big man of these fishermen.
We heard he was going alone to investigate this Satan's Gateway."

"Holy cow, Doc!" boomed Renny. "I remember! Knut Aage! That's the name
that fellow Hjalmar Landson spoke just before he died!"

"That is true," said Doc. "Then perhaps Hjalmar Landson came from this

The two guards rushed outside. Doc started to free his hands. A rush
of feet thudded over the rocks.

"This Knut Aage is the brother of that skinny little old man they call
the jarl," volunteered Zarkov. "I'll bet he's come floating back."

The ancient jarl led the men entering the stavekirker.

"Don't let it appear we might free ourselves," Doc advised.

"Howlin' calamities!" squealed Monk. "Wouldja look who's here!"

"Now this is something!" agreed Renny.

The "something" was the red-headed woman, Lora Krants. She was being
conducted into the gloomy prison. Beside her walked Barton, the heavy-
browed young man she had called her brother. And behind her was the
dark-skinned Kama.

The fishermen were jabbering. Doc interpreted their excited

"Our friends seem to have been forced down in their plane a short
distance at sea," he interpreted. "They were picked up by one of the
fishing boats. Perhaps they were depending on the power of the haunted
ocean, and it failed them."

"But look, what's that?" exclaimed Ham.

Four Norwegian fishermen were bearing between them what appeared to be
a crude boat of split bark. In this boat lay the nearly nude figure of
a man. His body was magnificently proportioned. His rugged face was
hewn in the lines of a Viking of old.

"Knut Aage, he came back like the others," said Zarkov. "Only for him
they seem to have built a boat."

Lapps and Norwegians were wailing in a mingled chorus. The ancient
jarl walked beside the strange bier from the sea. His white locks
draped around his pinched face.

Doc Savage was studying the rigid outlines of the body on the bark

"Frozen," he said, quietly. "And frozen alive. Like those naked men
the fishermen reported who did not seem to feel the intense cold. It
is possible this man, Knut Aage, still lives."

THERE was an interruption. Because of the poor illumination in the
stavekirker, Doc and the other prisoners had not been immediately
visible to Lora Krants and the others being brought in.

The red-headed girl apparently heard Doc Savage's voice for the first
time. In the whale oil flare, the young woman's face went ghastly

"You! Why, it couldn't be!" she murmured, then cried in a louder
voice. "It is! Mr. Savage, and the one called Renny! All of you! Oh,
I'm so glad--so glad! But how--"

"Holy cow!" thundered Renny. "I'll bet you're some surprised!"

"Oh, please, please!" cried the red-headed girl. "You don't know how
much I mean it! I'm overjoyed at seeing you here!"

Kama, from San Tao, was staring at Doc and the others. His eyes seemed
dark, for the moment, with hate. But he spoke in a suave voice.

"Evidently the infinite ocean has been overcome by some superior
magic. Let me congratulate and felicitate you, Doc Savage, on your
escape. We happened to come upon your plane after it was wrecked, and
we feared you had perished."

Doc Savage was watching the red-headed girl. He apparently was reading
much deeper than the others. Perhaps he really believed the girl was

The dark-browed brother was sullen. He said nothing.

Zarkov seemed to be keeping his face averted. Suddenly the ancient
jarl stood before the prisoner. One skinny hand gripped Zarkov's
shoulder. The prisoner's face showed in the light.

The jarl was speaking in Norwegian, which Zarkov seemed to understand.

Doc and Ham also caught his words.

"My brother, Knut Aage, he is not dead," said the jarl. "He is not old
enough to die. It is some black magic of Satan's Gateway."

Doc Savage looked at the rigid form of Knut Aage. The bark boat, which
had become a coffin, had been set upon one of the wooden benches.
Trembling hands placed lighted candles beside the dead man's head.

Suddenly, the interior of the stavekirker was filled with an eerie,
fantastic trilling. The hands of some fishermen flew to their weapons.
None could determine from where the rare, almost tuneless melody had

Doc's companions knew he was on the verge of some discovery, or that
some plan had come to him. The bronze man spoke slowly, impressively,
in Norwegian. He was talking for the jarl.

"Your brother is only in the frozen sleep," Doc announced. "We of the
sea know that he is not dead. He can be awakened. If I am freed, I
will see if the magic of life cannot be applied."


THE ancient jarl was not easily convinced. But he must have had some
of the fear of the others for Doc Savage and his men. Had they not
come up out of the sea, in the strange, transparent tube?

The jarl's sunken eyes had a piercing brightness. Suddenly, his thin
voice pronounced his decision.

"You shall be given the chance. If my brother lives, all shall go
free! If he is dead, then all of these prisoners shall die at once!
There is no alternative."

Doc Savage indicated this was agreeable. The bronze man knew that
Renny's thongs had been cut. The big engineer could free himself at
any time.

Doc indicated Ham, and said, "I must have this man to help me." Then
he pointed to Monk. "And this man must be permitted to bring me the
magical potions from the glass fish."

This aroused much jabbering. But the jarl consented. Monk was cut
loose. Doc directed him to bring the portable laboratory which had
been stored in the cylinder. The hands and feet of Ham were freed.

THE man of bronze stood beside the still figure of Knut Aage. He had
no illusions about any supernatural ability to revive a man who had
been frozen. Very evidently, Knut Aage had been frozen while alive.
There was no mark of violence.

The rugged face was like chiseled marble. The eyes were closed as if
the Norwegian leader were only sleeping.

Doc Savage said nothing. Guarded by half a dozen fishermen, Monk was
bringing in the portable laboratory.

The man of bronze proceeded slowly with his preparations. None there
would have believed a human hand could be quicker than the eye. But
the hands of Doc Savage were performing a miracle which had nothing to
do with bringing Knut Aage to life.

From Monk's laboratory, Doc produced a shallow, flat vessel. Solemnly,
he placed this near the head of the dead man in the bark boat. At the
same time, his incredible hands were concealing various devices from
that same laboratory about his clothing.

"Oh, you can't do it--you can't do it!" breathed the red-headed girl.
"All of us will die! Mr. Savage, I want to tell you about the plane

The dark-browed brother, Barton, caught the girl's wrist. Doc did not
seem to notice this. But Lora Krants winced with pain.

The dark-skinned Kama moved close to the pair. Words he believed none
but the girl and her brother could hear, were hissed. Doc Savage's
trained ears caught them.

"The boss man will come, you fool! A loose tongue may fasten a noose
around the whitest throat!"

Doc Savage was pouring three chemical powders together from
containers. He mixed them slowly with a glass rod. The chemical
reaction produced a blaze of reddish blue.

The man of bronze seldom displayed any great amount of ceremony. But
now he was as solemn as any priest of a temple. He began a slow
chanting, a singsong of apparently meaningless words. These were in
the ancient Mayan which only he and his men understood.

"Monk, Ham and Renny, your hands are free--you will first cut the
thongs on Long Tom--for the others we have no time--lead them out--
Renny and Ham will get to the weapons by the door--when I pour on the
chemicals, cover your eyes--it will be less than five seconds--be
certain to lead all the others from the stavekirker--"

"Lead that redhead out?" growled Renny. "And that Kama? Why, they

Doc gave no sign that he had noticed. His chant continued. "Lead all
out--perhaps there is much you cannot understand--"

THE singsong chant had impressed even the ancient jarl. The monkeylike
small figure was tense. His sunken eyes were fixed on the mixture in
the flat vessel beside Knut Aage's head.

Doc Savage picked up the fourth container. He held it above the blue
flame as if to filter it slowly into the blaze. But his powerful
fingers closed in a terrific grip.

The strong glass containing the chemical was crushed. All of it
dropped and spread at once upon the blaze.

Instantly, the interior of the stavekirker was illuminated with a
blinding flare. Doc was pressing the balls of his hands over his eyes.
His own men were doing the same.

The jarl and his crowding fishermen were perhaps too amazed to act at
once. Then, too, they might for a few seconds have imagined this was
part of the ceremony of producing life from death. The regard of the
jarl for his Viking brother was intense.

"See--as the light comes--Knut Aage will live!"

The bronze man's words gave them a few seconds more of time. With
hands still pressed over their eyes, Ham and Renny were moving toward
the weapons near the door. Long Tom was freed.

Zarkov and Larrone had not understood what was transpiring. At Doc's
word, Long Tom had sliced the thongs around their ankles.

"Come with us!" muttered Long Tom.

It was Monk whose furry hand fastened on the wrist of the red-headed

"Keep your mouth shut and come along!" ordered the apelike chemist.
"An' if you let out a squawk, I'll smack you down!"

"Oh!" gasped Lora Krants. "I'm blind! I can't see!"

Doc Savage himself seized the blinded Kama.

"You're coming with us," said the bronze man. "You will be unable to
see for an hour or more. It is well for you, and it may help answer
some questions. Anyway, you're taking us to where they landed your

"Those in darkness have no choice of paths," said Kama, mockingly.
"However, I shall not lead you to the plane, for it is sunken in the
fjord. You are not clever enough, Doc Savage."

THE Lapps and Norwegians became aware of the truth. They heard the
voices of their prisoners. Completely blinded, the fishermen were
groping around. They started jabbing with their harpoons.

The bronze man and his companions aided the others to evade the futile
attack. The interior of the dimly lighted stavekirker became a bedlam.
In the midst of this, Doc suddenly released his hold on Kama.

A miracle was taking place. The nearly nude figure of Knut Aage was no
longer rigid. One great arm was slowly lifting. The blond head was
being raised.

Doc Savage knew he had nothing to do with what might be happening. His
chemicals had been mixed for the sole purpose of creating a temporary
blindness. They had no potency either for illness or death.

Perhaps it was the warmth of the stavekirker's interior. Or, more
likely, it was the condition in which Knut Aage had been placed by the
mysterious men of Satan's Gateway. Apparently, the Norwegian had been

Could it have been some new form of suspended animation?

The bronze man's sensitive hands touched Knut Aage's heaving breast.
The flesh was uncannily cold. It might well have been frozen. But Doc
detected a slow, pulsing beat. It was the heart. But this was the
slowest throbbing of a heart Doc Savage had ever encountered.

The strokes could not have been above twenty to the minute. This was
out of accord with all medical science. Life blood could not flow
through any man's veins at this sluggish rate.

But Knut Aage's eyes had opened. They were as glinting blue as the
clean ice of some new glacier. The white lips were attempting to form

None but Doc's own men could have observed this apparent miracle. And
Doc's men were otherwise engaged. Ham and Renny had scooped up the
weapons near the door. Some of the Lapps started a blind rush in the
bedlam created by their own voices.

The superfiring pistols whoomed suddenly, steadily. A whole line of
harpooners pitched to their faces. They would be out for at least two
hours under the mercy bullets.

From his clothing, Doc Savage produced a hypodermic syringe. In this
was perhaps the most powerful heart stimulant in the world. The man of
bronze carried it always. Its contents could put unconscious men on
their feet.

A small part of the mixture was adrenaline. The rest of it was the
result of Doc's extensive surgical and medical knowledge. The man of
bronze plunged the needle into the seemingly frozen flesh of Knut
Aage's breast. The needle penetrated to the heart muscles.

Knut Aage's heartbeat may or may not have quickened. But the seeming
dead man who had returned in a coffin of bark sat up. Then he spoke.
Because they had been closed, his eyes had not been blinded.

"Doc Savage," were his first slow words. "Hjalmar Landson said you
would come."

Doc Savage spoke quickly.

"We must get out at once, Knut Aage. But if possible, I shall return
in a short time."

Doc again gripped Kama's wrist.

"I have heard the voice of Knut Aage," spoke Kama. "The renowned Doc
Savage undoubtedly will fancy he has performed amazing magic. But
there are more remarkable forces of which the world never before has
been aware. It is no miracle."

Doc impelled the dark-skinned man of San Tao toward the single door.
Renny had ceased using his superfirer. The giant engineer was standing
waist-deep in writhing bodies. Each time he struck with one of his
tremendous fists, another body was added to the heap.

Monk was howling, "Dag-gone it, Doc! C'mon! I can't hold onto this
redhead much longer!"

One long arm of the apelike chemist was sweeping around. It was
helping Renny and Long Tom clear a space to the outside. Monk's other
hand was still fastened to the red-headed girl's wrist. Barton, the
dark-browed brother, remained close to the young woman.

Zarkov and Larrone were among the first out of the stavekirker.

When they were outside, the interior of the stavekirker still
resounded to wild cries. The blinded Lapps and Norwegians were
fighting each other.

With Kama close beside him, Doc Savage led the way up a sloping, icy
trail. Ahead was the monster glacier of Jostedalsbrae. Somewhere in
the wilderness of ice was Satan's Gateway.


DOC SAVAGE and his men had undertaken a Herculean task. The ascent of
the rugged mountain toward the Jostedalsbrae glacier was a feat for
the strongest man. In this case it became the job of each one of the
five to lead one blinded person.

With Kama beside him, Doc Savage led the way. The fleeing party
crossed the mountain between spitted peaks. Suddenly, they were
floundering in mingled snow and the dust of centuries. The man of
bronze was forced to seek a trail of harder ice.

He found such a pathway. Here steps seemed to have been cut into the

"This could be no other than the work of men," announced Doc. "We are
ascending what was once a great wall."

Kama only chuckled evilly. Then Monk let out a howling complaint.

"Howlin' calamities! I gotta go back! I've got to get Habeas Corpus!"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the red-headed girl. "Who could have a legal
name like that?"

"It isn't a 'who,'" rasped Ham's sarcastic voice. "It's a pig!"

"A pig?" said the red-headed girl. "Goodness gracious! You want to go
back for a pig?"

"Dag-gone it!" yelped Monk. "I wish I'd 'a' let you go an' brought him

Doc was leading the way up the roughly hewn steps of the ice wall.
Zarkov and Larrone were disputing. They were accusing Doc Savage of
deliberately blinding them to prevent the carrying out of their

Kama still was saying nothing. The ice stairway led up a wall where
the top was invisible.

Suddenly the steps ahead were obscured by ice blink. This was a dense
fog which was composed of minute particles of blowing snow and ice.

Doc Savage projected Kama ahead to where another step should have
been. The step was not there. The bronze man's feet slid onto a smooth
slope. Still gripping Kama's wrist, the man of bronze felt himself
sliding rapidly downward into the fog.

"HOLY cow!" boomed Renny. "I knew there'd be a trap in this somewhere!
Now where are we headed?"

No one bothered to reply. Each was busy trying to slide feet foremost
down the slippery grade. Doc Savage attempted to set his heels. This
indeed might be a trap. The ice slope possibly would end in a glacier

Doc's men, who were blind, thumped into a heap on clear, flat ice. As
they gained their feet there was a moment of intense silence.

Then somewhere in the fog above them sounded a peculiar clop-clopping.
The sound was like the iron-shod hoofs of a horse slowly pounding on
hard ice or rock.

"Some one is passing over us," stated Doc. "It is perhaps some person
in a stolkjaerre, one of the native carts. Roads among the most
ancient in the world have been carved out of some of these mountains."

"Maybe we'd better give the fellow a hail," suggested Ham.

"It would hardly be advisable," said the man of bronze. "At this
moment, we are being rapidly surrounded by many men."

There had been a rustling movement from four directions. This was as
if moccasined or skin-packed feet were shuffling over the glacier.

Now there came a clink of metal. It was like the snapping of a safety
catch on a pistol.

The slowly moving horse on the road above was still clanking his iron-
shod hoofs. Steel tires squealed in grittily cold snow.

Doc Savage pushed the blinded five into the middle of a small ring. He
and his own men stood about them.

Like the throwing of an electrical switch, the ice blink and the
darkness was swept away. Uncanny, white daylight enveloped them.

THE little party was huddled on a wide, flat plain of the great
glacier. Here the constant wind had kept the blue ice clear of dust
and snow. The space was perhaps a mile in extent. Beyond it rose a
sheer black wall of rock.

It was on a high, winding road of this precipice the horse had passed
with the stolkjaerre. The cart had vanished.

"Holy cow!" grunted Renny. "Wouldja look at them! Doc, we ain't got a

"Fifty below zero, and they don't seem to have any use for clothes!"
exclaimed Long Tom.

Between forty and fifty strange figures ringed the party. They had
halted perhaps a dozen yards from Doc Savage and his men. All appeared
to be white men of normal size.

And at first glance, it seemed all of the men were naked. Then it was
to be observed that each man wore what might have been a breechcloth
of skin. Otherwise, their bodies were fully exposed to the rigorous
temperature. All of Doc's men and the others were thickly clad in

The strangely naked, and equally strangely silent men were blond and
tall. Each held a modern rifle across one arm. One man spoke in the
Norwegian tongue.

"If you understand our language, you will make no resistance," he
said, calmly. "We have been sent to conduct you to the Man of Peace
under the mountain. You have not strong enough force to do us any

"Oh!" cried Lora Krants. "The Man of Peace! At last!"

"Now what do you suppose is on her mind?" growled Renny.

Doc Savage made no answer to Renny; he spoke quietly to the naked men.

"It would seem we can do no other than accompany you," he said.

The tall leader of the naked men stepped closer. Then it was that
Kama, of San Tao, cried out sharply in his own language. The Oriental
must have regained his sight more quickly than the others.

Also, it was apparent he knew something of this place. His flowing
command rapped across the glacier. Men clad in furs poured from what
appeared to be the mouth of a cavern.

NO time was given for an order from Doc Savage.

Guns started cracking venomously. These were in the hands of the new
arrivals. These men were short, and dark of face.

Three or four of the naked men fell at the first volley. Kama, of San
Tao, was running. He darted across the ice toward the new party. His
voice shouted a new command.

Though the naked men had been taken by apparent surprise, they acted.
Their rifles belched fire.

The impetuous Renny opened up with his superfirer. Three or four men
went down before the mercy bullets. Doc Savage took the weapon from
Renny's hand.

"It would be advisable for us to keep out of this," stated the man of
bronze. "Wisdom directs us to retreat while we have opportunity."

Kama was now among the new crowd of men. Plainly they were from his
own country. They were like those who had appeared at Doc Savage's
headquarters in Manhattan and attacked Long Tom and Professor Callus.

Zarkov cried out with pain. His hands were flung out and his body
pitched to the ice. He would not speak again. A rifle bullet had bored
into his skull over one ear.

Larrone yelled, and started running in a circle. He still could not

The illuminated glacier was all white daylight. Doc Savage was looking
up the wall of black rock. Close to this wall, in the distance, were
what appeared to be streaming rays of light.

It was clear to the bronze man that this uncanny daylight must be
coming from this source. Doc could make out what might have been
described as short stacks of steel.

At the top of each stack appeared to be an eye. A luminous globe. The
glowing daylight was greater than the light of the aurora borealis.

Doc directed the others to crouch close to the ice. The naked men and
the dark men were about evenly matched in numbers. The naked men moved
toward near-by ice ridges.

Eight or ten of the nearly nude figures lay on the ice. Doc made note
of a queer circumstance. Though these men were dead or seriously
wounded, no blood had flowed from the bullet holes.

Kama now was leading his group toward Doc and his men. The dark men
switched the object of their fire. Bullets buzzed off the ice. Some
thudded into Doc's bulletproof garments.

From one of his many pockets Doc produced two small metal globes. On
each of these was a small lever. Doc moved these levers. He tossed
both objects toward the oncoming men of Kama's.

Between Doc's party and Kama's attackers the glacier split into a wide
crevasse. Two explosions drowned out the cracking of the rifles.

Kama's dark men were blown from their feet. But none seemed to be
seriously injured. Their advance would only be temporarily impeded.

The man of bronze had refrained from killing with the high-explosive
chemicals in the tiny bombs. He hoped only to break up the glacier
between them and provide respite by which they might escape.

Kama was shouting. The leader of the nearly naked men was trying to
halt the flight of his force.

"We will try and get back to the stairs of the icy causeway," said
Doc. "It is certain Kama does not want us to live. We do not know what
might happen in the hands of the others."

The red-headed girl still was unable to see. She attempted to rise.
One foot slipped and she fell back. Her face was very white.

"I'm afraid I've twisted my ankle!" she moaned. "All of you get away.
Don't wait for me."

The man of bronze caught up the red-headed girl as easily as if she
were a small child. Renny and Ham pushed her brother and Larrone in
the right direction. It seemed they would have time to get back up the
icy slope to the stairway.

As suddenly as it had come, the eerie daylight was switched off. The
fog from the ice had not been dissipated. All were groping in a
darkness. Visibility had been reduced to a few feet only.

SOMETHING new happened in that darkness. The nearly naked men rallied.
They surrounded Doc and the others. They made no effort to use their

Doc Savage was hemmed in by men of as great size as himself. Their
movements were slower. The man of bronze let the red-headed girl slip
to the ice. His incredibly fast fists struck at shadowy figures.

Three or four men pushed him to the ice with their weight. Doc's
bronze fingers fastened on the neck of one. His thumb pressed a nerve
center. The man should have become unconscious instantly. But the
paralyzing hold seemed to have little effect.

Doc Savage had the queer sensation of having pressed his fingers into
dead flesh. It yielded. The skin was as cold as ice. The usual nerve
reaction failed to take place.

"Dag-gone it! Lemme go!" howled Monk.

"Holy cow!" boomed Renny's voice. "I didn't know it was you!"

They had exchanged blows in the fog. Renny's fist must have knocked
Monk out. The chemist said nothing more.

Doc Savage was fighting the weight of numbers. From a distance, he
could hear the cracking of Kama's rifles. But they did not seem to
have crossed the blasted crevasse. The bullets were flying wild.

The man of bronze attempted to get at some of the anaesthetic
capsules. Cold, heavy arms pinned him to the ice. The bronze giant was
being held down by what seemed to be the relentless weight of men
whose flesh seemed frozen.

A blow from the hard butt of a gun rapped across the base of his
skull. Doc's senses faded out.


DOC SAVAGE came to his senses with the queer feeling of having been
carried and then dropped roughly. He put out one hand and it touched
bare flesh. This was very cold.

The bronze man was still enveloped in the glacial fog. He could hear
two voices faintly.

The man he had touched was one of the largest of the nearly naked
Norwegians. Doc produced his small pencil flashlight. The spring
generator hummed inside. The ray widened on the white body of the man
on the ice.

The man was dead. Without doubt, he had been carrying Doc Savage. An
ugly hole appeared between the man's shoulders. A bullet had gone in
through his spine.

Doc got to his feet. From near by came a low moan. A few yards away
lay another of the Norwegians. His skull had been clipped by a slug.
But he was still breathing. His head had only been creased.

The man of bronze wondered what had happened to the others. The last
he could recall was battling with a weight of cold flesh. Then he had
been knocked unconscious.

Apparently these men, carrying him away, had been attacked. Or they
might have been hit by bullets fired from some distance.

The voices Doc had heard grew more distinct "Dag-gone it!" piped
Monk's voice. "They've got Doc, and I think you know something about
it! I oughta make you walk!"

"Please, oh, please!" came the voice of Lora Krants. "I don't know
what happened! There were men all around! Mr. Savage was knocked down!
I thought I saw them taking him away, but I couldn't walk!"

"Over this way, Monk!" called out Doc, flashing the pencil light.

The big chemist let out a whoop of delight.

"An' it's a good thing for you I found him!" he squealed at Lora
Krants. "I was just about to let you find your own way outta this

Monk's ungainly figure came into the circle of light. For all of his
threats, the apelike chemist was carrying the young woman in his arms.
He set her carefully down on the ice.

"I'm glad we found you, Mr. Savage," exclaimed the girl. "I was afraid
something awful had happened! And my brother's gone, too!"

"Where are the others?" asked Doc--"Renny, Long Tom, Ham, Larrone."

Monk shook his head dubiously.

"The last I remember, Renny cracked me one and I hit my head on the
ice," he said. "When I woke up, I heard the redhead crying. Doc, I
don't trust her any more."

MONK was being quite frank about Lora Krants. The girl spoke suddenly.

"The circumstances are unavoidable," murmured the girl. "I am here, it
is true, but I cannot tell you why. Not now. I hope everything will
come all right, then you will know."

Doc Savage turned to the wounded Norwegian. The nearly naked man was
still groaning.

"Dag-gone it, Doc!" exploded Monk. "She knows something about this
fellow that naked guy called the Man of Peace!"

Doc seemed not to have heard Monk's protesting statement. He was
examining the wounded Norwegian.

"It is strange," said the man of bronze, "that blood should not flow
from a wound. The man's flesh is cold, like all of the others."

"They're not frozen, they're--"

The red-headed girl seemed to have spoken involuntarily. She ended her
speech by stuffing the back of one furred mitten over her red lips.

"I knew it!" yelped Monk. "I'll bet this dame knows all about this,

"Perhaps that is true," assented Doc. "But I'm sure Miss Krants will
talk when the time comes."

"Thank you, Doc Savage," murmured the girl.

Doc had extracted an instrument from his clothing. It looked like a
combination stethoscope and sick room thermometer on a miniature
scale. The man of bronze attached it to the man's breast with a
slender, piercing needle.

He listened for a moment with the earpiece of the instrument. As he
did, the fantastic trilling suddenly filled the ice fog. Doc looked
closely at the tiny thermometer.

"What is it, Doc?" questioned Monk. "Is the poor devil about to pass

The wounded Norwegian's muscled breast was heaving with slow

"According to the most reliable medical information, this man has been
dead for some time," stated Doc, calmly. "Any physician would probably
declare rigor mortis has set in."

"Howlin' calamities, Doc!" squealed Monk. "The fellow's still

"That is true," advised Doc. "Also, his heart is still beating. Yet
the temperature shows at exactly twenty-six. The heart action is
recording only thirty-two beats a minute."

"It ain't possible!" squawked Monk. "What do you say, Doc, we get out
of here? I don't like this place!"

DOC was examining the wounded man more closely.

"Only a few known animals can be frozen and still survive," stated
Doc. "There's one, the Chorni Ryba, or Alaskan blackfish."

"But dag-gone it, Doc," protested Monk, "the human temperature has to
be around ninety-eight, and the pulse about seventy-two."

"That is true," stated the man of bronze. "In some acute cases of
illness the human temperature has been known to go as low as seventy-
five. But there is danger of death. Adrenaline increases heat and heart
action by burning bodily sugar. I would say nearly all of the sugar
has been burned from these men. So they have become almost impervious
to freezing temperature."

Doc's hands probed around the base of the Norwegian's brain.

Monk was watching Lora Krants. She again clamped her furred mitten
over her lips, as if to keep from speaking.

"These fellows did not yield to nerve pressure," stated Doc. "Now part
of the reason becomes apparent. The nerves controlling temperature are
known as the diencephalon. They are located at the base of the brain.
A scar shows where nerve groups must have been changed."

Doc Savage ceased speaking. The cold-blooded Norwegian at his feet had
ceased to breathe.

"LISTEN, Doc!" admonished Monk. "Hear that? Isn't it that horse again,
upon the road?"

The iron-shod hoofs were clanking. The steel tires squealed in the
sandy snow. From a short distance up the black wall, a voice hailed.

"Hello there, below! Can you direct us to a way down? My driver said
there was a fishing village near by, but this road seems to end in a
mountain meadow!"

"Howlin' calamities!" exploded Monk. "Doc, that's Professor Callus or
I don't know voices! This whole thing's crazy!"

"It is Professor Callus," agreed Doc, calmly. Then he called out, "We
know of a way down afoot, but not from the road up there."

"Doc Savage!" shouted Professor Callus. "I might have known you would
have found your way into this place! But I had greatly feared you were
lost in your plane, after I learned you had started for the Norway

"We escaped that disaster," replied Doc. "Your own presence indicates
you are greatly interested in the mystery of the haunted ocean,
Professor Callus."

"Indeed, and who wouldn't be, after all that happened in Manhattan,"
replied the professor. "When I learned you had started for The Land of
the Midnight Sun, I chartered a plane. We were over a great plateau of
snow when that strange disturbance of the ocean must have started
again. Our plane lost its power and we narrowly escaped death.

"I accompanied my two pilots until we found a village. Then I heard of
this fishing town and hired one of these Norwegian carts. Do you think
we could get down this cliff and join you?"

"That might be possible," stated Doc. "Also it might be advisable for
your own safety--"

THE words of the bronze man were lost in a sudden crackle of gunfire.
The fusillade apparently came from the road above not far from the
cart of stolkjaerre.

"Doc Savage!" shouted Professor Callus. "We are being attacked! They

His next words were lost in the crashing plunge of a horse. Above in
the ice blink fog the stolkjaerre crackled as if it were being dashed
against the rocks. A hoarse voice cried out in Norwegian.

"They've got him!" yelled Monk.

The stolkjaerre and the horse came rolling down the black wall. They
struck the flat ice with sickening impact. A man's body thudded onto
the glacier.

A command was shouted above. It was the voice of Kama.

The man who had fallen, lay almost at the feet of Doc Savage. Plainly
enough he was the skydgul, or driver of the cart. His head was
horribly crushed.

Professor Callus had not fallen with the cart. Doc Savage whirled back
to the others. He caught up the slender form of the red-headed girl.

"We must get out before they find a way down the wall," advised Doc.
"Farther on, there may be some trail leading up to that mountain
meadow. I imagine it would be unsafe to go back down the causeway."

Above them, the men of Kama were scrambling along the road. It was
apparent they were seeking a way down. Now Kama knew Doc Savage still
lived and was below.

"If there is a mountain meadow at the end of that road, I think there
will be a way down for us," advised Doc Savage.

"How would you know that?" said Monk.

"You will find a strange means of transportation from every mountain
meadow along this coast," stated Doc.

The man of bronze seemed not to mind the weight of the red-headed
girl. His progress was so swift Monk was compelled to lope along on
his short legs. They were concealed by the darkness. The men of Kama
were making so much noise they could not have heard them depart.

Doc had progressed more than a mile along the wall before a break
appeared. Monk had great difficulty climbing the steep ascent. The
bronze man cradled the girl in his arms and swung easily upward.

They emerged upon a road that had been carved centuries before.


DOC SAVAGE carried Lora Krants into the mountain meadow. On this soil,
in season, a crop of hay had been grown. Some of this was covered with
snow where it had been spread upon wooden racks to dry during the

Lora Krants tried her twisted ankle. It would not bear her weight.

"I don't see how we can ever get out of this place," the girl said.
"If Kama's men come up the road, we are trapped."

Doc Savage did not reply. The man of bronze could hear the pursuit.
The slight crunching of men's feet in the snow had not yet come to the
ears of either Monk or the girl.

Doc was following the rack of abandoned hay. At one end the meadow
seemed to tip off into space. And far below showed the hazy flare of
torches. The meadow seemed to lie almost directly above the fishing

"Dag-gone it, Doc!" complained Monk. "If them devils are on the road,
we can't get out of here! It's more than a thousand feet down!"

Doc was stripping back some of the hay. From the drying rack he pulled
two queer-looking iron hooks. They were covered with heavy, dried
reindeer hide.

"Now we will find the hesjire," stated Doc. "Unless it is too badly
rusted, we have a means of transportation it isn't likely any one will
use to follow us."

Now Monk and the girl could hear the crunching feet of the oncoming
men. Their pursuers were already entering the farther side of the
meadow. Some of the pursuers whooped. They had come upon the tracks of
Doc and the others.

"All right," said Doc. "Monk, you will go first. I will follow with
Miss Krants."

"Down that thing?" growled Monk. "You mean we're doin' a circus act
down that measly wire?"

"It isn't much of a stunt," said Doc, calmly. "The people here find
this crude elevator quite convenient."

Monk and the girl were staring at the slender wire attached to a
heavy, wooden post. The village flares looked miles away. Only a few
feet of the tight wire was visible. It slanted down into space.

Doc wrapped one of the hooks over the wire. Under the hook was a loop.
On this crude contrivance hay was shot down from the mountain in the
summer to the village below. Perhaps, as Doc had said, the wire might
be rusted and weak. But it was the only means of escape.

Monk hooked one hairy wrist into the loop. He drew a deep breath. Then
he stepped off into space. The tough hide of the hook squawked shrilly
on the wire. Monk almost instantly disappeared.

SPARKS flashed from the hook and wire.

Behind them, Kama shouted out an oath. Now he had discovered the plan
of Doc Savage. Rifles began to explode. Bullets clipped the snow.

"You'll have to trust me and hold your breath," counseled Doc.

"You have trusted me, and I don't know why," said the girl.

"Perhaps it is because I know you are not Lora Krants," said the man
of bronze, unexpectedly.

Kama's men were running. Their rifles whoomed now. There seemed no
further effort to spare the girl. Doc felt the slugs nipping at his
furs. But the bulletproof undergarment was stopping them. He gathered
the girl into one massive arm.

Doc's other bronzed wrist wrapped into the loop of hide. He put the
hook over the wire and stepped into space.

The red-headed girl suddenly clung to Doc Savage's neck.

"Oh, we'll be killed--I must tell you--the plane--"

The girl gasped these words. The hook over the wire was screeching. It
must have seemed to the girl their descent could only be checked by a
crushing impact.

Yet, as swiftly as they were dropping, Doc Savage felt the tremor he
feared most. Kama's men were hammering at the wire post above. Bullets
sang past their flying bodies. If Kama succeeded in getting that wire
loosened, only a miracle could save them.

Doc's powerful wrist was twisting the hook. They had dropped almost
five hundred feet before he started checking their speed. Below them,
the strained voice of Monk called up.

His words were unintelligible. The wire seemed to slacken suddenly. At
its lower end this hesjire, or mountain elevator, curved into a deep
bend that was intended to slow down any descending object before it
crashed the lower post.

Doc and the girl were in this bend when the wire sang wickedly. It had
been cut at the post above. Their bodies turned over and fell.

Even at forty below zero, the deep water of the fjord never was
frozen. This was because of the influence of the Gulf Stream.

"Hold your breath!" commanded Doc, as they flashed downward.

The bronze man could not be sure whether they were falling into the
fjord or upon the rocky shore.

DOC SAVAGE had sucked air into his great lungs. Holding the girl, his
giant form struck with a force that would have stunned another man.

The water of the fjord received them. The thick furs helped break the

The girl had become limp in Doc's arm. Fighting back to the surface
was a gigantic task. Doc succeeded in stripping the upper part of his
body of the clinging furs. His massive arm and limbs churned the blue

Doc Savage had underwater training comparable only to the skill of
South Sea pearl divers.

No doubt, Lora Krants was in that state described as drowned. Her
lungs had filled with water. When they reached the surface, she was
for the time as dead as she would ever be.

Monk helped get the girl to the shore. Now the quick freezing of that
fearful temperature became an imminent menace.

"I thought you was gone for good that time, Doc," declared Monk,
plaintively. "Now what are we going to do? I guess the little redhead
is dead. We can't do much without a fire. If we build one they'll be
right on our necks from that crazy village."

Monk was scratching his nubbin of a head. Anxiety screwed his homely
face into an ugly knot.

Doc Savage was stripping off nearly all of his clothing.

"Get off her furs and the rest of her clothing," he ordered Monk. "We
can save her without a fire."

Doc Savage might have added that only his great surgical skill could
accomplish what might otherwise have been impossible. Monk's awkward
hands trembled, but he clicked his teeth grimly and went to work.

While Monk was preparing the girl, Doc did some exercises that
restored his own circulation.

The red-headed girl lay on her face. Monk applied what he knew of
first aid. This was having little effect.

"Monk, you will go to the first of the skin huts in the village,"
directed Doc. "You will find some are unoccupied. Take the driest
skins and bring them back."

For Monk, this was a welcome mission.

Doc Savage had become the great surgeon. Monk had dropped his own
outer furs. Within five minutes, Lora Krants gave a great sobbing

Monk's outer furs were wrapped about the young woman when Monk
returned. He was carrying an armload of miscellaneous furred skins.
Doc and the girl were quickly clothed.

The man of bronze had preserved all of his devices in the pockets of
his bulletproof garment.

"Oh!" gasped the girl. "I dreamed I had died, and I saw my father! I
thought that I had crossed the ocean and--"

The girl's eyes widened with dawning realization of her present
position. She ceased speaking. Doc ignored her words. He had said he
knew she was not Lora Krants.

"Our best chance for the present is to discover if the cylinder is
intact," stated Doc. "I believe the superstitious fishermen would
hesitate to touch it."

DOC SAVAGE had guessed correctly. The strange glass fish was still in
the sand where it had been beached. The tide was ebbing.

"Howlin' calamities!" gritted Monk. "Are we going down again?"

"We must find the wrecked plane at once," stated Doc. "Perhaps the
fate of Johnny and the commission, and all the others depends upon our
getting some means of entering the fjord called Satan's Gateway. Miss
Krants now will direct us to the spot where the plane was beached."

"I will do anything I can," stated the girl. "But for you, I would not
be alive, Doc Savage. The plane was beached. Its power is lost without
the daylight you saw. It has other motors, but they failed."

Oil torches still flared in the stavekirker. A light moved among the
skin huts of the Lapps. No person was near the glass fish.

"We have enough compressed air to last perhaps an hour," stated Doc.
"In that time, either we will reach the wrecked plane or get to
Satan's Gateway."

Monk and the girl were crowded into the glass fish. Doc was pushing
and pulling the cylinder into position where its own compressed air
force would slide it into the fjord.

Doc slid inside the glass fish and closed the lid. Immediately the
blue, unearthly light of the tubes began to glow. This gave the
transparent cylinder a supernatural appearance.

An oxygen tank hissed. Then Doc Savage switched on the compressed air.
Sputtering explosions resulted.

THE tail of the glass fish was buried in the sand. It was as if a
great hand pushed it into the deep fjord. The cylinder sank a hundred

"Where is this plane?" said Doc Savage. "We have but little time."

"It was pulled up on a shelf at the north side of the fjord," said the
red-headed girl. "Perhaps if you can reach it, the power of the ocean
will come on. Then you could use it."

Doc Savage said nothing. His real purpose in reaching the plane was to
examine the strange machinery. He hoped this would give him some
inkling of the force which must be overcome.

"Doc," said Monk, "do you suppose they took Ham and the others alive?
If they've killed Ham, I'll stay here and take these mountains apart!"

Lora Krants stared at the ugly chemist. She had imagined Monk and Ham
would have slit each other's throats at the slightest excuse.

"Before we reach the plane, Miss Krants," suggested Doc, "have you any
other information to divulge?"

The girl's eyes suddenly went cold.

"I may seem ungrateful, Doc Savage," she said, "but I have nothing
more I can tell."

Doc did not insist. He had arrived at an amazing theory. If what he
believed proved to be the truth, he imagined Washington would be

NEAR the entrance to the fjord of the fishing village, Doc mixed the
chemicals which filled the outer envelope of the cylinder with the
powerful lifting gas. The girl was watching the bronze giant with
increasing amazement.

Then they reached the plane.

The modern, streamlined plane rested on a narrow shelf. Its wings and
fuselage were marvels of mechanical genius. The design rivaled the
best of Doc's own superior ships. Apparently no great damage had
resulted from the forced landing.

"If that thing only will fly, we could bomb that Kama off the
glacier," suggested Monk, as the glass fish nosed close to the shelf.
"I'd like to get my hands on Kama!"

Doc was sliding back the lid. The play of the aurora borealis was
giving some light. But it could not give the bronze man visibility
around the point of the jutting mountain.

Beyond their range of vision, two ordinary fishing schooners were
nosing across the fjord. From winches on the deck of each boat
extended cable ropes. These went down into the sea.

The fishing boats were perhaps three hundred yards apart. Between them
was nearly all of the width of the narrow entrance to the deep fjord.

"Remain here until I investigate," directed Doc. "If it is possible to
operate the motors, we will board the plane."

"This cylinder will be all right," protested Monk.

"That may be," agreed Doc. "But close the lid and be prepared to
submerge if anything should happen. I will be gone only a few


DOC SAVAGE reached the roomy cabin of the mystery plane. The craft had
been operated part of the time by ordinary motors. The propellers were
not now connected with these.

The bronze man's fantastic trilling filled the space. He was
inspecting short metal prongs extending from the cowling. These were
equipped at the outer ends with what might have been bright mirrors.

Doc determined these were powerful lenses. They were of the type
employed in the greatest telescopes.

The prongs were of hollow metal alloy. They concentrated on groups of
selenium cells. These were arranged in the form of batteries hooked
together for the concentration of power upon one objective.

"It was bound to happen some day," mused the man of bronze. "The light
has been discovered to operate the machinery of the world. This could
only be a power that would revolutionize all transportation."

He saw the plane props had been operated by the power of light. The
mysterious property of selenium, already applied on a small scale to
operate motors in laboratories, had been amplified on a greater and
more practical scale.

The mystery of the apparent uncanny daylight was unfolded to Doc
Savage. He realized that a band of such light, with proper motive
machinery, might some day operate every ship that sailed the seas,
every vehicle of transportation in the world.

The regular motors of the plane had been irreparably wrecked. Parts of
the machinery had been fused and ruined.

So engrossed was Doc in his investigation, he failed to note the
lights of the fishing schooners coming into the fjord. The dark hulks
of these craft lay close to the opposite walls.

The boats were dragging something between them. One boat was slowly
approaching the spot where Monk and the red-headed girl lay in the
transparent glass fish. Perhaps its blue, unearthly illumination was
seen by men on the fishing boats.

"There are lights coming along the fjord," said Lora Krants. "Do you
suppose we should call to Doc Savage?"

Monk shook his nubbin of a head.

"Doc's eyes are quicker than yours," Monk boasted. "He has seen the
lights. He knows what to do."

Monk was even then planning to open the sliding door. One long arm
reached out. A blundering elbow struck the lever controlling the
compression tanks.

The air hissed and exploded at the tail of the glass fish. With a
vibrating movement, the cylinder slithered from the shelf. Its lifting
gas had partly evaporated.

DOC SAVAGE emerged from the plane's cabin. He had seen the ship rested
so that the removal of its wooden blocks would slide it off the shelf
into the fjord.

The bronze man noted that the tide now had changed. As in these
northern latitudes, the flood was starting with a rush. A swift
current was beginning to boil along the cliff.

Doc Savage started toward the spot where he had left the glass fish.
Suddenly he hastened his stride. The chugging of the motors of the
fishing boats had come to his ears. He could see their distant moving

The man of bronze had expected to be guided back to the glass fish by
its phosphorescent illumination. The light had vanished. He believed
for a few seconds that Monk might have tampered with the tubes.

But it was not that. Doc Savage checked his rush at the edge of the
sloping shelf. The green depths, he knew, dropped here to perhaps five
hundred feet.

Doc stared bleakly down into the deep water. He could just mark a dim,
blue radiance. The glass fish was submerged. It was at least a hundred
feet beneath the surface. It was still sinking.

Doc Savage rarely had a sensation of helplessness. For just a few
seconds, he stood rooted to the spot. There beneath him, Monk and Lora
Krants were slowly dropping into the depths.

Doc could only depend upon Monk's knowledge of chemistry to bring the
glass fish to the surface. Apparently Monk had been unable to apply
the lifting gas. Doc Savage remembered an oversight.

The final chemical combination, the key to the production of the gas,
was now in his own pocket. He had expected to be gone only a minute or

Monk was powerless to bring the glass fish from the bottom of the

An eddy in the sweeping flood tide caught the light far below. Its
force whisked the blue radiance from view, downward under the straight
wall of the black cliff.

Doc Savage groaned deeply. The faithful Monk and the red-headed girl
were undoubtedly going to certain doom.

The fishing boat on this side of the fjord came nosing along on the

DOC SAVAGE whipped back to the mystery plane. He could do nothing
here. None of his vast forces could reach down into the murk of that
icy water. The glass fish had apparently become a coffin from which no
human agency ever could rescue its occupants.

The man of bronze brought his mind to the thought of his other men.
Johnny, the member of the war commission; Renny, Ham and Long Tom, if
they were alive, must be prisoners in the hands of Kama--or this Man
of Peace, whoever he might be.

Doc kicked the blocks from under the wheels of the amphibian plane.
The streamlined ship rolled toward the water. It slid into the fjord.
The pontoons had not been damaged.

The bronze man swung to one wing as the rushing tide caught the plane.
The pontoons lifted the ship buoyantly. It was swept along the face of
the cliff toward the inner end of the fjord.

Farther out in the sea, beyond visibility from the fjord, lay another
craft. But nothing of its hull was visible. Only three, horned prongs
stuck above the surface.

These prongs had eyes, but the eyes now were apparently dead and
sightless. If Doc Savage had seen these things his action would have
been different.

MORE than a mile above the fishing village, the mystery plane ground
along the rocks. Doc Savage leaped ashore. He wedged one of the ship's
wings into a cleft of the rocks.

The man of bronze was a strange, almost appalling individual. The
cured skins taken from the village were his only clothes. He had
fitted them about his giant body as best he could. His movements were
like those of some grotesque animal.

Doc glided toward the mountain trail. He headed upward. His intention
was to return to Jostedalsbrae glacier. Somewhere beyond the ice
stairs he hoped to pick up the trail of some of his missing men.

Still the northern lights afforded the only illumination. Doc arrived
at the first finger of the glacier. He floundered over the surface
covered with mixed dust and snow.

Suddenly the bronze man halted. There was no sound that any normal man
might have heard. But the keen wind whipping down from the
Jostedalsbrae brought something to Doc's sharp olfactory sense.

This was a human smell. And the odor of tanned hide. It was so faint
as to have been missed by other than the noses of the plateau wolves
or the deer of the mountains.

Doc flattened himself. He became a part of the dust-covered ice. But
he had not been quick enough.

A blue flame sliced from the edge of a glacial crack not far away. The
explosion of a rifle followed. Dusty snow slapped into Doc's face. The
rifle cracked again. The second bullet skipped about the same distance

Doc carried no device that could have reached the gunner. He waited
for the third shot.

A voice spoke in Norwegian.

"You will stay where you are until I see whether you are a friend or
an enemy!" it commanded. "I will not kill you unless you resist!"

Doc Savage replied quietly.

"I had hoped to find you somewhere on the glacier, Knut Aage. You were
wise to give such warning. I believe we have a common purpose."

"It is you, Doc Savage!" exclaimed Knut Aage in perfect English. "It
was to seek you I ascended the Jostedalsbrae. I found evidence which
made me believe your party had been wiped out. You must be the amazing
man Hjalmar Landson reported."

KNUT AAGE came closer. His face was still as white as that of a
death's-head. His skin had the coldness of marble.

Doc was sure Knut Aage had been made a victim of the icy blood.

"I fear I have lost one of my men, the chemist called Monk," said Doc
Savage. "My other companions may be prisoners of one of these
conflicting forces of the glacier. Perhaps you would know something of
what is behind all of this, Knut Aage?"

"I know much, Doc Savage, but not enough," said Knut Aage. "It is only
enough to know that I shall sacrifice my life if necessary to destroy
the devil they call a Man of Peace. He is the real satan of the ice
caverns. You say, Doc Savage, you have lost the man known as Monk?"

"Unless I am mistaken, Monk and a girl who calls herself Lora Krants
have perished at the bottom of the fjord beside the fishing village,"
stated Doc.

IN the meantime, the glass fish was sinking toward the bottom of the
mountain-walled fjord. The face of the red-headed girl was white as
death. But now that the end seemed to be near, her red lips were
tightened in courage.

Monk was attempting to get a proper mixture of chemicals in the gas-
making retort. He found three powders. They produced a blue flame. But
the element needed seemed to be missing.

"Now that it seems as if we are to die together, Monk, you might be a
little more pleasant," suggested the red-headed girl. "I think you and
all of Doc Savage's men are swell! My own mission in this country was
to save you from disaster."

Monk only grunted. He shut off the compressed air. The glass fish had
been moving against the flood tide. Monk had decided to save what
power he had.

He stared bleakly at the gas-making retort. He wished for his portable
laboratory. The suck of the tide started whirling the glass fish over
and over. Its spinning motion seemed to be boring toward the bottom.

Monk again turned on the compressed air. The glass fish nosed into the
flood tide. But it had no buoyancy and would not ascend. Monk had a
tight feeling across his throat.

The girl's attractive face was suddenly buried in her hands. She had
been nodding sleepily.

Monk guessed the reason. Their oxygen supply was running low. He
turned on the last of the small tanks. There was no hissing.

Monk rolled over, facing the girl.

"Dang it!" he managed. "I ain't so mad at you! I guess maybe you have
your reasons."

"You are a funny, ugly, kind-hearted man," whispered Lora Krants. "It
hurts to breathe, to talk, Monk. I guess this--is--about the end--"

Monk's possible reply was snatched away. The glowing blue glass fish
struck some obstruction. In spite of its compressed air power, the
cylinder was hurled over and back into the tide.

The glass fish lifted and tilted. Its blue radiance illuminated the
water for several yards on the outside.

"Howlin' calamities!" gasped Monk. "A whole flock of big fish have
grabbed us! Next thing we'll be swallowed like Jonah by the whale!
Wouldja look at that!"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lora Krants. "We're trapped at the bottom of
the fjord!"

It seemed both statements were correct. Giant codfish with eyes
sticking out like huge knobs pressed against the transparent cylinder.
Silvery salmon flashed among them.

The glass fish was being swept along.

"Oh, I believe we're going up!" exclaimed Lora Krants. "Monk, we're
caught in one of those great fish seines! I'll bet Doc Savage had
found a way to save us!"

"Doc's a lot of things, but he ain't any fisherman," asserted Monk.
"An' he wasn't carryin' any fishin' seine around with him. It's them
heathen have got us again!"

The glass cylinder was rising rapidly toward the surface of the fjord.

ON the two fishing boats the fishermen were gabbing excitedly. The
schooners had been dragging their giant seine into the fjord on the
flood tide.

Fishermen jabbered. They had seen the strange, glowing monster strike
the net. Winches began to grind. Cables were pulling the great seine
toward the surface.

These men on the boats had not been in the village during the presence
of the glass cylinder with Doc's men. They were seeing the weird blue
glow for the first time.

They could see through the glass sides. Monk and the girl were
visible. They were motionless. Apparently they were corpses in a
lighted glass coffin.

Still, the winches turned.

Like the flicking of a switch, eerie daylight flooded the fjord under
the mountains. The grinding winches stopped abruptly. The engines of
the fishing schooners crackled and ceased turning the propellers.

With fishermen falling on their knees, the fishing boats were swept
along by the power of the tide alone. The big seine sagged, pulled the
boats slowly together.

The glowing glass fish again was sinking.

Lapp fishermen flung themselves on their faces. They were awed to

Three prongs were sweeping into the fjord at incredible speed. Their
mirrored eyes were absorbing power from the uncanny light.

Without pausing, the strange undersea craft ripped into the great
seine. The deep net was torn loose from its cables. The folds of
tarred cords wrapped around the long hull of the pronged submarine.


ONLY a few times had Doc Savage ever given up any of his men as lost.
But if he had not abandoned all hope for Monk, the bronze man was
unusually saddened.

He could see that blue glowing fish of glass sinking deeper into half
a mile of icy sea.

"I have come upon things which the most credulous would refuse to
believe," stated Knut Aage. "My own condition was a part of it. After
being trapped in the ice caverns under the Jostedalsbrae, I was made
unconscious. You did not have time to observe the scar at the back of
my neck?"

"I have now seen it," stated Doc. "The mysterious nerves governing
bodily temperature and the heart pulse have been changed by surgical

"I have not known what it was," said Knut Aage. "I seemed to go into a
strange trance. Since then, I have no sensation of heat or cold. I can
think how I want to move, but I can do it only with great caution. All
of my muscles are sluggish."

"You saw others in the ice caverns perhaps?" inquired Doc.

"I saw several who were prisoners, and apparently two crowds of men
opposing each other," stated Knut Aage. "There are those of my own
race. Some are Orientals who take commands from two persons. One is
this Kama who was in the stavekirker. I do not know the other."

"And the prisoners?" suggested Doc. "Was there one who seemed like a

"I recall him," said Knut Aage. "A man with a scholarly face, but very
tall and thin. He was with an Englishman and four others."

"Johnny," said Doc. "He's William Harper Littlejohn. He is one of a
war commission of six that had disappeared."

Knut Aage frowned deeply.

"That is very bad," he said. "For these six are chained on a rock
shelf in the cavern known as the Place of the Glacial Death. Once each
year, at this season, the old Jostedalsbrae pushes a wall of ice
through the cavern. This extends over a deep underground fjord."

"You mean this finger of the glacier fills the cavern?"

"Exactly that," said Knut Aage. "Thousands of tons of ice scour that
wall where the prisoners are chained. It comes each year."

"But what could be the purpose of exterminating the men of the war

"I learned little of that before I was trapped," said Knut Aage. "It
concerns this one they call the Man of Peace. His brain alone holds
knowledge of the power of this artificial daylight. Another is seeking
the full knowledge. I understand the Man of Peace does not desire to
kill needlessly. But he has been told all prisoners will be crushed to
death a slow inch at a time by the glacial push if he does not reveal
all of his secret."

"But your escape was unusual, Knut Aage."

"I think I was set afloat and brought back to the fishing village as a
final stroke of terror to drive all of the fishermen from this
vicinity," stated Knut Aage.

"I fear," stated Doc, "that others of my men are now there. I shall
not ask you to guide me to these caverns, but I must go there."

A grim smile crossed Knut Aage's white face.

"You do not have to ask, Doc Savage," he said. "You cannot prevent my
accompanying you. Hjalmar Landson, who informed me you would come, was
my brother in the blood. His death must be avenged. I have received a
mysterious communication, Doc Savage. It informs me this woman of the
flaming hair who was with you in the slavekirker was Hjalmar Landson's

"Others have been convinced of that same thing," advised Doc. "But you
will do well to investigate thoroughly before you act."

"I never act upon an unproved report or even my own unverified
opinion, Doc Savage."

"I had judged you that way--"

THE two men were at the edge of the great glacier. They were making
their way slowly back toward the fishing village. Knut Aage was
impeded by the sluggishness of his muscles.

The uncanny daylight flooded the mountains.

"If there were only some way we might enter the caverns without being
observed," Knut Aage had just suggested.

Doc's fantastic trilling filled the icy air.

"If the light of the peace power will persist for only a few hours,
there may be a way," he stated. "Come with me, Knut Aage. That plane
in which Kama arrived must now be equipped with power."

The mystery plane still was wedged in the cleft of the rock. Knut Aage
watched the play of Doc Savage's corded bronze arms. The facile
fingers were examining the parts of the strange motor connection.

"I believe we now shall have the means we seek," stated Doc.

The plane's two propellers were whispering, turning. There was no
sound of an exploding motor. Only the low humming of powerful
electrical motors. The selenium cells apparently were releasing or
transmitting the amazing energy of the daylight.

Doc Savage swung the plane onto the sweeping tide of the fjord. He
turned the streamlined fuselage with its nose to the wind of the

The ship shot toward the open sea. Knut Aage grasped Doc's arm.

"Look below!" he shouted. "It's the undersea devil my men have feared!
It's one of the craft of the Man of Peace! Those horned prongs are its
only power!"

"If the prongs were removed, it would not sink," stated Doc.

"No, but it would be powerless," stated Knut Aage.

"That would be one group less of the enemy to combat," said the man of

THE strangely powered plane dived with shrieking wings. It skimmed the
fjord. Its pontoons clipped into the speeding prongs.

Doc Savage and Knut Aage had only a flashing glimpse of what might
have been a writhing, distorted monster just under the surface of the
green water.

Whatever its motive power, the propellers of the mystic submarine had
ceased to beat. The impelling force of the white daylight had been
severed. The craft was perhaps sixty or seventy feet in length.

Doc's trained senses took in more details than Knut Aage. With its
remarkable horns clipped, the vessel was not rising to the surface.

The devil's own blast of wind howled and shrieked in the canyon of the

"We cannot reverse here," stated Doc. "We will swing outside the walls
and return."

"That flood tide has tremendous force," said Knut Aage. "Likely the
vessel will be dashed upon the rocks."

"I had thought of that," said Doc. "We will attempt to get back in
time to rescue the crew from drowning."

The screaming wind on the plane's tail projected it over the sea of
the wide channel outside the cliffs.

Two black fishing schooners leaped into view. Their crews were like
struggling knots of puppets. They were hauling in the tangled wreckage
of a great seine.

"You see, Doc Savage, the men of that submarine are ruthless enough,"
pointed Knut Aage. "They have torn away a seine which was the result
of a year of effort."

The bite of the plane's props was tremendous, but not enough to give
it speed. That mountain wind was a blast of more than gale intensity.
Doc glided to the fjord. He permitted the flood tide to catch the

"They'll not have a chance if the submarine strikes," said Knut Aage.
"It will sink immediately."

But the dehorned monster of the sea had not sunk. It was a mile or
more from the plane when it was shot into a slanting scar of the
cliff. This break led into the trail mounting to the Jostedalsbrae

What served as a conning tower must have opened. The half dozen
figures emerging were mere specks at that distance. They were in
flight toward the great glacier.

"We could ascend and trap them easily," suggested Knut Aage. "They
will be many hours making their way back to the ice caverns over the

"Time is more valuable for other purposes," stated Doc. "The submarine
appears to be undamaged. The few hours they require to reach the ice
caverns of Satan's Gateway must be employed."

"But what can be done with the helpless vessel?" said Knut Aage.

"That remains to be determined," advised Doc.

THE pointed snout of the submarine rested easily in the rocks. The
craft might have been a stranded aluminum fish. Four jagged sprouts
showed where the plane's pontoons had sheered off the prongs.

Doc whipped from the plane into the door of the conning tower. Knut
Aage followed more slowly. When the Norwegian got inside, the amazing
bronze man already had a wrench in his hand.

Multiple coils of pipe lined the sides of the forward chamber. Below
them were geared motors. The boxing of a propeller shaft extended
through the lower floor of the sub.

"This is one of the most intricate vessels I have ever seen," stated
Doc. "It has many principles that will some day be applied to all
undersea boats. Beside the daylight power, there are auxiliary engines
for motive force when the prongs would be submerged."

"And they were trapped by the rush of the tide before they could get
them in operation," stated Knut Aage.

"Exactly," agreed Doc. "Perhaps the crew feared our return. They would
have expected to be attacked with bombs before they could get out of
the fjord."

Doc was disconnecting the broken prongs inside the submarine. Knut
Aage explored through several bulkheaded compartments.

Doc Savage had been working with great haste. He started outside
toward the moored plane. His purpose had not been clear to Knut Aage.

Knut Aage was near the middle of the sub. Doc heard him call out

"Doc Savage! Here's something!"

The man of bronze whipped back into the craft. A central compartment
looked as if it might have been a torpedo room. But there were no
torpedoes. Iron-clamped doors showed where there must be openings for
leaving and entering when submerged.

In the middle of this room lay the glass fish. It's tubes still glowed
with blue phosphorescence. The sliding door was open. Doc breathed
with relief.

"They have got Monk and Lora Krants," he stated. "Strands of the big
fish seine are hanging onto the hull. It must have caught the cylinder
as it was sinking."

FROM what appeared to be an outer air chamber came a thudding knock.
It was like a man's head being butted against a wall. It was a head,

Doc snapped off the clamps and the figure of the apelike chemist
rolled out. Monk had not been bound. He scrambled to his feet. His
hairy throat heaved as he pulled in fresh air.

"A couple more minutes and I'd been through breathing," gasped the
chemist. "Them dag-goned devils meant to suffocate me! And that
redhead is nothing but a sneaky double-crosser! Doc, them men took to
her like she was a queen or something. I told you she was crooked."

"What happened?" said Doc quietly.

"The glass fish got caught in a seine with a lot of other fish," said
Monk. "We were dragged up and then we went down. The oxygen tanks were
empty. After a while, we passed out. And I'd got to kinda believin'
that red-headed dame was on the square."

"An' then what happens?" squealed Monk. "Next thing we're being rolled
outta the glass fish. Them devils runnin' this boat act like they
think the redhead is a princess. I don't know what she told them. They
were them fellows running around without any clothes."

"You think perhaps they might have identified Lora Krants?" said Doc.

"Dang it, Doc, they almost kissed her!" exploded Monk. "Then they got
off in a corner and talked among themselves. I tried to horn in and a
couple of 'em grabbed me. The redhead must have told them what to do.
So they crammed me into that hole in the wall."

"It does seem peculiar," admitted Doc. "But we have work to do. Monk,
scramble around and pipe a new hook-over from their air-chamber pumps.
I believe we can charge our compressed air tanks. You will find
several oxygen tanks aboard. Substitute those for the empties in the

Doc went outside. Knut Aage watched him in amazement. The bronze man
had disconnected the power prongs from the plane. He brought them into
the submarine.

"I never would have thought of that," said Knut Aage.

"They have been made standard size," said Doc. "Their seating is the
same on both sets of light cells. We will soon have the power to reach
Satan's Gateway, if the daylight is kept on."

If haggard prisoners in the Place of the Glacial Death could have
known of Doc's intention, their spirits might not have been so low.


SIR ARTHUR WESTCOTT'S mustache had become scraggly. The usually
imperturbable Englishman gnawed at its straggling ends.

"By jove!" he exclaimed. "When they find out what these bally
blighters have been up to, there probably will be a war! Nobody can
kick one of His Majesty's subjects around like this!"

The usually dignified Englishman had lost all of his calmness. His
wrists were locked in manacles. These were fastened to short iron
chains stapled into a rock wall.

"Indubitably an international complication will eventuate," drawled
the voice of the skeletonlike figure chained beside Sir Arthur. "It is
extremely doubtful, however, if it will provide any insuperable
obstacle to the irresistible pressure of glacial erosion. While they
are summoning conferences, we will have become particles of
infinitesimal indifference to diplomatic processes."

The four other members of the international war commission made no
comment. Their English had its limitations.

If Johnny had said, "Before Great Britain can start a war, we will be
ground to bits by that ice wall," they would have understood.

Johnny was a woeful object. The six temporary statesmen of the great
nation were a haggard lot.

This speech took place at about the time Doc Savage was getting the
conning tower of the light-powered submarine closed. Johnny's faith in
the man of bronze was now expressed. He reverted to short words.

"My hope lies in Doc Savage," he said. "Something tells me Doc isn't
far away."

The other members of the war commission were hunched in a strained
position on a narrow shelf. Back of them the wall oozed cold moisture.
Overhead a smooth, vaulted roof bore the scored marks of eroding ice.

Where their chains were attached to the wall, there were gouged
grooves. Even the narrow shelf on which they were situated was a scar
left in the hard, black rock by thousands of tons of grinding ice.

"By jove, old fellow!" spouted Sir Arthur. "You have a great eye! The
bally wall seems to be slipping!"

THE wall was a solid, towering face of a creeping finger of the great
glacier. It was pushing through a cleft cut in past centuries. It was
like the glittering head of a slowly moving piston. This filled all of
the cavern at one end.

In the other direction a series of passages showed. All of the inner
caverns had been continuously lighted by the uncanny daylight power.
Some fifty feet below the narrow shelf was clear, deep water.

Johnny and the others had been brought here in one of the pronged
undersea boats. This submarine passed back and forth often. Johnny had
judged there were at least three of these submarines. One had only
three prongs, having been partly dehorned by a British gun.

"That ice is moving now at the rate of about a foot an hour," stated
Johnny. "When it happens it won't be over with quickly."

This was an unpleasant thought.

The gleaming ice completely filled the space from side to side.

FOUR prongs swam into the fjord. They had come from the inner caverns.
As nearly as Johnny could judge, the strange daylight emanated from
some source farther under the mountain. The geologist could
occasionally catch the low, vibrant humming of machinery.

The submarine emerged close to the shelf. The conning tower opened.
Half a dozen dark-skinned men came out. They were pushing prisoners
ahead of them.

"Renny!" shouted Johnny. "Long Tom! Ham! Sir Arthur, I told you Doc
Savage would be along!"

With these three of Doc's men were Larrone, and Barton, the heavy-
browed brother of Lora Krants. They were shoved to the narrow shelf.
Skin thongs were exchanged for the iron manacles chained to the wall.

"Holy cow!" exploded Renny. "How'd you come here, Johnny?"

"Same way you did, I imagine," replied Johnny. "Where's Doc?"

There was a minute of silence. None of the new arrivals spoke.

"You don't mean something's happened to Doc?" demanded Johnny.

Then Renny exploded irately, "Well, if anything did, it's that red-
headed dame again! The last we saw of Doc, he was trying to save her
from a crowd of naked guys who didn't have any blood! I saw Doc and
Monk go down under a whole bunch, and then we were grabbed!"

Renny always took a gloomy view of things. Ham was more cheerful.

"And by this time, I'll bet whoever landed on Doc is wishing he
hadn't," said the lawyer. "We were brought a long way to get in here
and Doc might be any place by this time."

"By jove!" exclaimed Sir Arthur. "I was of the opinion your Doc Savage
could not cope with these blighters!"

"Whoever you are then," observed Ham, scathingly, "your opinions
aren't worth ten cents a dozen! You don't know Doc Savage."

Kama's dark-skinned men returned to the pronged submarine. The strange
craft submerged. The prongs passed directly under the arching wall of
the glacial crusher.

"If only that ice would let go right now, it would suit me fine," said
Johnny. "Brothers, it looks like we're going to discover what it would
be like to go through a slow-motion meat grinder."

THE movement of the ice wall was slow, but its progress was certain.
Already a section of the narrow shelf on which they were chained was
being ground to atoms.

The gleaming, blue wall was like a great knife pushed by a mountain.
Sir Arthur Westcott was closest to the creeping death. Next to him was
Johnny. Beyond were the others.

The usually sartorially perfect Ham was a sad-looking human. But he
maintained a light tone.

"Anyway, I'd never figured when my time came they'd have to move a
whole mountain," he commented. "Maybe we'll get a break, though. One
gang headed by this fellow Kama, from San Tao, is fighting that
Norwegian crowd. They had one jam on the glacier. If they get together
down here, it might help."

Sir Arthur Westcott gnawed at his mustache. The creeping wall was
barely six feet away. The solid wall trembled. A part of the narrow
shelf split off. It left scarcely two feet to where Sir Arthur was

"I'm jolly well glad," remarked the Englishman, "I'll be the first to

He didn't look jolly well glad. Johnny scowled at him.

The others were getting the picture. They would be crushed slowly. One
by one they would go. First the ice would touch. Then its weight would
begin pushing.

The prisoner would strain away in his manacles. The chains would hold
him against the ice. His body would be pressed the fraction of an inch
at a time between the wall and the glacier.

"But have you discovered, Johnny, what the purpose of all this might
be?" said Ham. "If either of these crowds wants us out of the way, it
would have been much simpler to have put us out quick. Or do you
suppose we are being used in some way to bring pressure upon Doc to
lay off?"

"It might be that," stated Johnny. "We have learned enough to know
there is some strange power of light. In some manner, the war
commission was about to interfere. But I don't understand this slow-
torture angle."

IF the chained prisoners could have been in a mammoth inner cavern,
they might have understood the purpose of the horrible, creeping death
by the glacier ice. This apparently did not concern any pressure to be
brought upon Doc Savage.

The greatest cavern of all was at the end of a connected series. The
passages leading inward were partly of clear blue ice and partly of
black rock.

In the midst of this room sat a man who, when younger, must have been a
magnificent figure. His thick hair, now snowily white, was in shaggy
confusion around a rugged, wrinkled face. Before him on a wall was a
panel containing a number of spread charts.

The man was following lines on these charts with a slender steel
pointer. As the pointer moved, his lips murmured.

"Each man to his own country," he was saying. "Press of population
brings wars. Conquest must cease. Each nation must develop and exist
by its own resources within its own boundaries."

The steel pointer swung.

"Conquest, always conquest!" the man murmured. "I have but to move one
finger and it will cease. In this way only, can war be ended. Only my
own craft and my own air force shall have the secret of moving by the
light of peace."

In towering columns of some transparent substance varicolored lights
spit and crackled. Many giant tubes converged on conductors which
seemed to project through the roof into outside space.

The white-haired giant spoke louder. While his sunken eyes held a
fanatical gleam, his voice was gentle, kindly.

"Some may die, but it is best, for I shall save the world from
wholesale murder. And all of this shall be for peace. Peace for the
whole world!"

ANOTHER voice spoke with a high, sarcastic inflection. The owner of
this voice was invisible. Apparently he was standing somewhere outside
the mammoth room of the peace power. Perhaps he was speaking into a

Around this second speaker other men must have been assembled.
Movement of bodies, muttered words could be detected.

"I have come for an answer," spoke this voice. "Your ideas of peace
for the world are all a very fine theory. But we will not go on until
you have imparted full knowledge of both the positive and negative
light rays."

The white-haired giant laughed softly to himself.

"What I have given a lifetime to learn is only for myself to know," he
replied. "I am not deceived. You already have bartered to sell this
power. But none may purchase that which you do not possess. Without
the key, you are helpless."

The other voice laughed mockingly.

"The time has come for a showdown, Man of Peace," spoke the voice. "I
have waited until now. I will wait no longer. The precious war
commission which you intended to instruct has been put in the Place of
the Glacial Death. Within another few hours, the representatives of
the greatest nations will be crushed slowly to pulp!"

The white-haired giant jerked to his feet. His big hands trembled.
There was now anger in his voice.

"You have gone too far!" he rapped out. "None is to die, as you were
instructed! You cannot compel me to do your bidding! I will summon my

"You may summon them in vain," mocked the other voice. "Do you imagine
I have been so foolish as not to prepare? Look around you. Then, if
you think it is wise, summon your men."

THE sunken eyes of the white-haired giant turned slowly.

In the several doors of the mammoth room stood armed figures. All of
these men were short and dark-skinned.

"But you cannot do this! One of our purposes was preservation of the
white race--"

The white-haired giant was raging now.

"Calm yourself," mocked the outside voice. "It is already done. We
have possession of one of the subs. Your men without blood have
another. The third will return presently. It will be seized as it
enters Satan's Gateway. We shall take possession of all the machinery.
If you desire this war commission to survive, you will impart complete

"You condemn these innocent men to death for your own petty purpose?"
shouted the white-haired giant.

"Petty purpose hardly describes it," said the voice. "One Oriental
province alone has offered one hundred millions. There are twelve
other foreign bidders. The power will bring five hundred millions
before we have finished."

There was the clicking as if a switch had been pulled. In front of the
white-haired giant a dark panel glowed with purple light. Living
figures leaped into the square.

"You can see for yourself," rasped the voice. "Not only are some there
of the war commission, but there are others. Once you had a very great
friend they call Doc Savage. Perhaps you would like to see four of his
men crushed by the Glacial Death? And Doc Savage himself already has

The big hands of the white-haired giant moved helplessly, as if he
would push away the vision in the glass. The television showed the
narrow shelf of the Place of the Glacial Death.

The blue wall of ice was slivering. Pieces were falling. Tons of
crushing force were sliding along the shelf. Stone was being reduced
to pulpy powder. A mustached figure--Sir Arthur Westcott, of Great
Britain--was pulling at chains holding him to iron pegs in the wall
above the shelf.

The face of the living glacier was hardly more than a foot from the
Britisher's writhing body. The faces of the other prisoners were
mirrors of stark horror.

The mocking voice said, "One by one, the others will see what it is
like for living flesh and bone to be pinched, ground slowly to bloody
nothing. Each one will die slowly. He will fight his chains, but
before those iron pegs could be torn out, his body will be in
fragments. Is it not a nice picture?"

"You arch-fiend of hell!" shouted the white-haired giant. "I shall
destroy all--I shall--"

THE deeply sunken eyes were staring at the shelf of horror in the
television. But those orbs were fixed more upon one figure than any
other. It was the dark-browed brother of Lora Krants. Into the sunken
eyes crept slow, desperate anguish. It was succeeded by cunning.

One hand of the white-haired giant moved.

"Do not do that!" rapped out a closer voice. "If you touch anything,
you will die instantly! We shall at least have the power as it is! No
doubt, we can discover the full knowledge we seek!"

Rifles pointed at the white-haired giant. This new speaker was Kama,
of San Tao. His teeth flashed in a cheerful smile.

The white-haired giant refrained from touching the levers. He must
have realized that his own death would not save those in the glacial

But the giant was sliding one foot slowly forward. It touched a
contact. The Man of Peace undoubtedly had prepared for just such an
emergency. At the same time, he bowed his head as if resigned.

"What do you hope to gain by assisting a traitor?" he said to Kama.
"He will sell to the highest bidder, if he learns all he must know."

"Perhaps I shall be the highest bidder," suggested Kama with a smile.
"If not, then the amount shall be great enough to make the sharing of
it worth while."

The white-haired giant had apparently touched nothing. But from some
distance underground came a humming throb of power.

The voice outside spoke sharply.

"Look out, Kama! We have been tricked! Have your men seize him! He has
summoned the other submarine!"

The white-haired Man of Peace laughed loudly, suddenly, horribly. His
great figure plunged forward. His hands were thrust toward the levers.
Kama's nearest men moved with the quickness of striking cobras.

IN the Place of the Glacial Death, Sir Arthur Westcott had ceased
speaking. Though the temperature was far below freezing, the sweat was
popping on his reddened, desperate face. Liquid ran from the corners
of his mouth, dripping from the ends of his gnawed mustache.

The British statesman had virtually ceased to "carry on." His teeth
had chewed his lower lip to red fragments. Now he could have moved his
head and touched the face of the living glacier.

The crushing, slow death was only inches away.

Sir Arthur Westcott had perhaps half an hour, a little more or a
little less, before his body would begin to flatten, to dissolve,
between the pinch of the glacier and black rock.

"Look!" grated Ham. "Maybe, after all, we'll get a break!"


INTO the blue water below the narrow shelf moved two sets of objects.
Each of these consisted of four prongs. They entered from opposite
ends of the glacial cavern. They were moving at high speed.

"Holy cow!" boomed Renny. "They're going to smash each other!"

But the commanders of the peace power submarines were too skillful to
risk collision. Like horns of submerged monsters, the prongs ceased
moving. Around the silvery crafts just under the surface the water

"They're coming up!" said Long Tom. "Now what do you suppose we're in

The sleek, shining bodies rolled to the surface together. As they
emerged, two conning towers opened noiselessly. Men poured onto the
backs of the boats from these.

All those who appeared carried rifles. The guns started snapping
almost before members of the crews had regained their balance.

Leaden slugs buzzed like bees in the echoing caverns. The slight
explosions were sufficient to cause sharp, crackling reports from the
living face of the glacier.

"Good grief!" rapped Ham. "They're bumping each other off! It is a

"It might be well to point out just where we will benefit," said
Johnny. "Suppose they keep that up? When they've finished, then where
will we be?"

His questions were logical. On the rounded back of one horned sub were
the nearly naked figures of giant Norwegians. These undoubtedly were
the loyal adherents of the white-haired one who called himself the Man
of Peace.

On the other craft were the dark-skinned Orientals. Owing to the
limited movement from the conning towers, they were for the moment
evenly matched.

A huge Norwegian received a bullet in his hairy breast. Without a
sound, he pitched into the underground current. His body rolled over.
It disappeared.

The following Norwegian pierced the skull of the Oriental who had
killed the first man. The little Oriental splashed into the water. A
red blotch stained the spot where he disappeared.

The Norwegian who killed him was next to go.

Four men had been killed on each sub before a command was given. The
Orientals faded back into the conning tower.

"Holy cow!" growled Renny. "I thought those dark-skinned guys had more
guts than that! They're still even and they quit!"

"I have an idea that if we have any chance at all, it lies with the
naked blond fellows," said Ham. "But the little dark chaps don't quit
like that for nothing."

HAM'S opinion was quickly substantiated. With the cessation of
shooting, the white bodies of the Norwegians became more numerous.
There were more than a score crowding the back of their craft.

"That's idiotic," surmised the wise Johnny. "I'll bet the dark guys
are playing just for that."

From the conning tower of the Oriental submarine racketed a weapon.
But this was no cracking rifle. The high, deadly chatter was like the
hammering of a riveting machine.

The result was ghastly.

Dead men slid from the Norwegian submarine into the underground sea.
Some lived long enough to writhe with agony on the sloping deck before
they slid off. The men on the narrow shelf stared helplessly at the

The Norwegian deck was swept clear. Only two men lay draped across the
rounded surface. The machine gun still hammered at the conning tower.
A slow, heavy voice spoke a command.

Air hissed in the cavern. The water bubbled. The iron port of the
conning tower started to close. One of the men on the deck moved. He
got to his feet and lurched forward. Already the tanks of the
submarine were filling.

The craft was submerging. The wounded Norwegian pitched toward the
closing iron port. His head and shoulders were thrust through.

Then he screamed with agony. The closing iron was pinching his bared
torso. Excited voices yammered inside the sub. Evidently an effort was
made to reverse the submerging operations.

The order came too late.

"Holy cow!" boomed Renny. "They're going under with that conning hatch

The sleek, horned vessel dipped beneath the surface. Water gurgled
past the wounded man wedged in the port of the hatchway. Someone
attempted to open the door and release the body. The underground sea
poured in with a flood.

Oil sprinkled with air bubbles oiled the surface. Into this heads
began to pop up. Evidently the Norwegians still in the submarine were
making their final desperate fight to live.

Already, the silvery craft was beyond the view of the prisoners on the
narrow shelf. The water here apparently was of great depths. More than
a dozen heads came into view.

On the side of the cavern opposite the high, narrow shelf was a
broader ledge at nearly the level of the water. The swimming
Norwegians made for this refuge.

Above them, the Oriental undersea craft swung slowly broadside. The
snout of the machine gun poked out.

"Good grief!" barked Ham. "The devils couldn't do that!"

But the dark men had no compunction. The machine gun weaved slowly.
Fire sliced from the muzzle.

Lead pattered along the water. The slugs skipped and danced among the
bobbing heads. One by one, the skulls were filled with round blue
holes. Some were split open, as more than one bullet found its mark.

The bare arms of the Norwegians beat the surface hopelessly.

The prisoners groaned in unison. The last bobbing head had been
punctured. The last white hand had flashed up, then followed a body to
the bottom.

THE uncanny, white daylight continued to flood the interior of the
Place of the Glacial Death. The submarine of the Orientals swung on
the surface.

Kama, of San Tao, stepped forth. His teeth flashed in a cheerful
smile. He seemed immensely pleased with the amusement his men had been
given. He looked up at the prisoners. He probably had as much feeling
for them as he would have had for a similar number of flies pinned on
a wall.

"There is one among you who can influence the Man of Peace," said
Kama. "We have not been informed who this fortunate individual may be.
But the Man of Peace has betrayed himself. If that one of you will
make himself known, he will be released and taken to the inner

Doc's men stared at each other. Sir Arthur Westcott had ceased
fighting his chains. The ice was still moving slowly, inexorably.

Suddenly, the living glacier itself gave the Englishman a reprieve for
the time being. Perhaps it had been the shooting. A great corner
cracked from the ice wall and crashed into the water below. It opened
a space of perhaps two feet close to the shelf.

At the rate the glacier was moving, that might mean another hour
before the first victim would be crushed.

The prisoners were saying nothing. They were waiting for one to reply
to the Kama.

It was the dark-browed brother of Lora Krants who spoke.

"Perhaps I am the one you mean," he said. "I am not saying this to
save myself."

"Then you know the Man of Peace?" said Kama. "That, indeed, is most

"I am the one," repeated Barton Krants.

Two of Kama's men ascended the narrow shelf. The manacles of the
youth's wrists were unlocked. They lowered him to the sloping deck of
the sub.

"Holy cow!" rasped Renny. "I knew it all the time! An' that red-headed
dame's another one of them!"

But the eyes of the others were snapped away from the dark-browed
Barton Krants.

The four prongs of another peace power submarine were gliding into the
cavern. The four mirrored horns seemed like the head of some stalking
beast of prey. Kama uttered a curse in his own language.

Barton Krants was shoved quickly into the conning tower of the
Orientals' submarine. Kama ordered his other men below. The Oriental
potentate, if that was what he claimed to be, no longer was smiling.

Commands flowed from his lips in the language of San Tao.

Johnny, alone of the prisoners, could understand the words.

"Prepare to attack, but we must preserve this submarine!" directed
Kama. "It would be well to riddle their power projectors with shot!
Then they will come to the surface."

The Orientals were bringing their machine gun into position.

THE four prongs of the new submarine slackened their speed. The craft
had been heading directly for the glacial finger where it extended
into the cave. There was considerable space between this ice and the

The glacier's weight was supported by its own thickness and its
crowding of the upper walls.

"This sub has also lost one of its eyes," remarked Johnny. "The
mirror, or whatever it is, has been taken out."

The four prongs came to a complete stop. The silver craft was
motionless. Its sleek sides could be seen a few feet below the
surface. Three of the light-gathering lenses were shining.

But the fourth prong seemed to be an eye socket with an empty hole.

"It may be they are using that prong for a periscope," suggested Ham.
"There doesn't seem to be any other device for observation."

In this he was incorrect. The craft was equipped with something better
than a periscope. The observer inside could survey the outside for a
long distance. The device was something on the order of a television
arrangement. And it could also bring to view the interior of another

"Perforate the projecting inductors!" commanded Kama.

The machine gun was aimed at the four prongs. An Oriental tripped the

A stream of slugs skipped the water. They slapped around the prongs.
Some bullets pinged off the gleaming metal, but apparently did no
great damage.

"Aim for the lenses!" yelled Kama. "Smash them! The Norwegians will be
forced out!"

"Good grief!" groaned Renny. "We're about to witness another bloody

The machine gun was lifted. Slugs buzzed around the shining mirrors of
the horns.

Then from the prong with the missing lens curled a yellow wisp of
smoke. Puffs came from behind it. The vapor mushroomed and spread
rapidly. Apparently it was coming from the craft with the force of a
pump behind it.

The prongs vanished in a cloud. The machine gun's stream searched for
the target. But there was only the spreading cloud of yellow vapor.

Kama yelled, "Get inside! This is something new! Where did those
Norwegians get it? It may be poison gas!"

The machine gunners ceased firing. The Orientals scrambled for their
conning tower hatchway.

"I'd be willing to bet a million against a thin dime that it's nobody
but--" Ham started to say.

Then a scared Oriental poked his face from the conning tower. He
yammered excitedly at Kama. But there were two words for which there
seemed no equivalent in the language of San Tao.

"Doc Savage! Doc Savage!"

Kama slapped his hands together and swore vilely. The other craft was
hidden by the yellow smoke screen. Kama followed his men into the
conning tower.

"I told you, Sir Arthur, Doc would be around," drawled Johnny.


DOC SAVAGE glided from the big retort that had been converted into a
smoke-screen pot. This chemical container had been ingeniously
connected with the open inductor prong from which the lens had been

"Monk, have you got the connection for that extra air compressor
tank?" said the man of bronze.

Monk was engaged in mixing half a dozen chemicals in metal containers.
The apelike chemist had seemed to forget their mission and all of its
danger. For they had discovered a completely outfitted laboratory
aboard the mystery craft of the peace power.

"Yeah, Doc," stated Monk, "I've got the compression and the hook-up.
All I need to do now is slip the acid into this mess. And when it
starts spouting, there won't be any doubt about this being Satan's
Gateway. It'll probably be hotter'n that."

"Then we are going under the ice of that glacial finger," stated Doc.
"I estimate we have perhaps half an hour to discover what lies beyond.
By that time, the glacier will be carrying out the terrible purpose
for which the prisoners have been chained to the wall."

"But Doc," said Monk. "Why couldn't we pull up there and free all of
them right now?"

"Because we probably would be overtaken by the same fate that wiped
out the Norwegians on that other sub," stated Doc. "Perhaps not all of
our enemies are in the craft with Kama. We are opposing forces about
which we are not familiar. This daylight power now is on. If it should
be switched off, it is possible we should fail."

Doc had the prongs moving under the ice. The craft was headed for the
inner caverns.

"The other craft is pursuing us, Doc Savage," stated the voice of Knut
Aage. "Kama is driving directly toward us at high speed. He will ram
this vessel if he gets the chance."

"I had judged he would make that mistake," advised Doc. "Monk, release
the outside port of the exit chamber. The stuff is ready."

Monk's nubbin of a head bobbed. He scuttled to a lever. In the special
periscopic device, Knut Aage was watching the slender needle of Kama's
submarine shooting toward them. Its prow was in the form of a pointed

Monk pushed the lever. Immediately the clear, green water around them
took on a purplish color. This deepened. It became an intense black.
Though their own visibility ahead was not lessened, behind them the
channel became a vast pool of ink.

"Their craft has disappeared, Doc Savage," said Knut Aage.

"And for the present, we are lost to their view," stated Doc. "You say
the chamber of the light is at the end of this cavern channel?"

"It is there the Man of Peace controls the destinies of this power,"
said Knut Aage.

"We shall proceed there," stated Doc.

KAMA stood at the periscope device in his submarine. He had ordered
full speed ahead, despite the danger of crashing a wall. His purpose
was to ram the submarine carrying Doc Savage.

Then the underground sea was blackened. Visibility and direction
became confused. Strangely enough, Kama could still observe Doc Savage
and the others inside their craft, but steering a direct course had
become impossible.

Kama released a flood of Oriental curses. Then his teeth flashed in an
evil smile.

"We will take the passage of the short cut!" he ordered.

The prongs of Kama's submarine immediately swerved from the channel.
Slow speed was ordered. The craft nosed slowly along the wall. In a
few minutes, the craft swung off under the mountain glacier.

"We shall arrive at the cavern of light ahead of this bronze man of
magic," stated Kama. "And we shall be ready to receive him."

AHEAD of Doc Savage's submarine loomed the entrance to the cavern of
light. A queer, pink radiance bathed shallow steps cut from the water
into the mammoth room.

"Keep close watch, Monk," directed Doc. "I shall investigate."

The ballast chambers boiled. The power craft slowly came to the
surface. Doc Savage opened the conning tower hatchway and emerged.

Monk was grumbling. He was beside Knut Aage at the observing device.
Kama's submarine had not again come into view.

"Dag-gone it, Doc," yelped Monk, "I don't like this! Maybe that
heathen got lost in that ink an' maybe he didn't! It's too danged
quiet to suit me!"

Doc Savage did not reply. He was moving along the sleek back of the
submarine. Its prow touched the shallow stone steps.

From the lighted mammoth room came the low humming of some kind of
machinery. There was a hissing and bubbling. This was like liquids
gurgling in great retorts.

Doc Savage stepped lightly to the first of the shallow stairs.

From this position, his vision swept the interior of the great cavern.
The bronze man's remarkable powers of observation took in several
hundred details of the machinery.

From among this intricate mass he unerringly selected the vital
instruments. His rare, fantastic trilling broke out. Now it was a
tribute to the mighty brain which had conceived this power and
perfected it to practical application.

The trilling abruptly ended.

Doc Savage was taking in a new scene. And in this scene was the white-
haired giant, the Man of Peace.

The man of bronze stood motionless. His powerful hands hung at his
sides. Not by any visible action, did he betray that which his own
super-senses had conveyed to his brain.

For Doc Savage knew he was surrounded. He had become aware that hidden
black eyes were even now sighting along aimed rifle barrels. There
were more than a score of these weapons. Yet so perfect was the
drilling of the Kama's subjects, not the faintest sound had been

The voice of Kama spoke mockingly.

"You will walk ahead, Doc Savage, into the cavern of light," said
Kama. "Your determination to solve the mystery of the power of peace
shall be gratified. I would not deny you that. Walk forward, I
command! Either that, or you shall die where you are! Our bullets will
not be wasted! For your eyes alone shall be the target!"

"A wise man, Kama, knows when to obey," said Doc Savage, calmly. He
raised his bronzed hands. Step by step, he went up the shallow stairs.

HAD Kama been closer, more ready to reveal himself, he would have
noted a queer circumstance. Doc Savage was apparently accepting his
defeat in this trap. Stair by stair, he climbed toward the cavern of

But the flaky gold eyes of the bronze man were closed. The lids
concealed the whirlwinds that must have been stirring in the depths of
these hypnotic orbs.

And as Doc walked up the stairs, his knees rubbed slowly together.

The eyes sighting along the rifle barrels were all within a few yards.
Kama's men were enclosed in the cold, icy cavern.

The crushing of fragile glass could hardly have been heard. Some steam
arose from the icy water in the cavern. The vapor slowly spreading
along the stairs around Doc Savage might have been mistaken for that.

Only, where the bronze giant had been walking under the menace of the
rifles, there now was no one.

Kama yelled, "Shoot now! Don't wait!"

The Orientals were accustomed to many kinds of magic. But this sudden
disappearance of Doc Savage paralyzed them temporarily. Then a dozen
rifles slapped flame and lead at the place on the stairs where Doc
Savage had been.

The man of bronze was no longer there. His massive legs had been
sprung like springs of finest steel. He had propelled himself
backward. But when he struck the water, he checked his descent so that
no splash sounded.

Doc Savage did not possess the power to make himself invisible. His
apparent disappearance into thin air was only in the eyes of the
Orientals. Especially those whose rifle sights were fixed upon him.

The vaporlike gas released from the containers strapped inside his
massive limbs affected the sight of Kama and his men for only a few
seconds. Then it was dispelled. Other Orientals dashed from their
places of concealment in the cavern of light.

Doc Savage was alongside the peace power submarine. One bronze hand
lifted. It was visible to Monk and Knut Aage. The hand made quick

"Howlin' calamities!" yelled Monk. "Doc's gone crazy! He's telling us
to dive!"

Knut Aage was sluggish, but he was quick enough to act now. Already,
he was closing the conning tower. The bronze man was making another

"There he is!" screamed Kama. "Alongside the sub! Fill his worthless
body with lead!"

The Orientals made a most desperate effort to do this. Rifles belched.
Bullets scored the side of the submarine. Water was boiling from its
ballast tanks. The silver fish of the peace power was submerging.

Only the four prongs now were visible. A leaden hail squawled over the
surface near the craft. One of Doc's bronze hands was seen for a
moment. Then it slowly disappeared.

"This time, we have left no possible doubt!" gloated Kama. "It would
have been best to have permitted him to view our power, but all things
must be as they are!"

For the fourth time, Kama was convinced the man of bronze had died.
Now he rapped out another order. The four prongs of the sub were
moving away from the stairs.

"We must now capture the peace sub for our own purpose," announced
Kama. "Without Doc Savage, the others will be easily overcome."

Kama led the rush of his men to their own concealed submarine. The
craft had been hidden in one of the numerous side channels near the
cavern of light.

KNUT AAGE was at the controls, as their pronged craft moved slowly
away from the stairs of the cavern of light. Monk whipped back into a
middle compartment. His hairy hands shifted levers with frantic haste.

"Dag-gone it, Doc!" he was muttering. "I knew I should've gone with

Monk's hands whirled a wheel. A metal panel started sliding. Some
green water flooded in.

Doc Savage climbed to his feet. He shook the water from the sleek mask
of his bronze hair. His golden skin seemed itself waterproof. His
lungs filled with air.

This had been his first breath in nearly four minutes. During that
time, he had dived. Then he had clung to the outside clamps of the
entrance-and-exit chamber of the submarine.

"Dang it, Doc--" Monk began.

"We have no time to lose," interrupted Doc. "At this moment, we have
been compelled to wait too long. The ice of the glacier is upon our
companions. If we do not hasten, the Englishman and the others nearest
him will be crushed. Johnny is chained beside him."

Knut Aage stared at Doc Savage as he came into the control room.

"You are almost as much of a miracle as the men who floated after they
were dead," he stated. "And I discovered that was simple enough. Their
blood had been removed and their veins filled with a chemical gas."

"My own escape was just as simple," was Doc's only comment.

The bronze man regarded this statement as true. He never looked on his
apparently miraculous powers as extraordinary. Knowledge of thousands
of devices and their application, and the use of his wits in
preparation for nearly all emergencies, he did not regard as

Knut Aage was back at the observing device.

"Kama's sub is coming again," he stated. "He probably believes you
have perished, Doc Savage."

"Only until they pick us up with their own underwater television
observer," stated Doc. "And we cannot lose them as before. We have no
time to mix a new lot of the screening chemical. Moreover, I have
another more vital use for the projector."

Kama's submarine was coming along rapidly. Doc headed back for the
Place of the Glacial Death. Both craft were speeding about evenly.
Kama apparently was trying to come alongside. The movement indicated
he did not intend to repeat the effort to ram the other submarine.

"Monk, prepare the big retort," directed Doc. "Connect it with the
compression tank. Have the igniting acid ready."

A broad grin crossed Monk's face.

"If there's really a devil in this Satan's Gateway, we'll give him
something to play with," he piped.

The great metal retort with its strange mixture of chemicals was
placed under the prong projector from which the eye had been removed.
A person with chemical knowledge would have known the retort and its
connection were of alloy that was designed to resist the most intense

Kama's submarine speeded close. Doc saw the craft was making an effort
to crowd their vessel into the wall. He shot his own boat ahead at
dangerous speed.


"I GUESS this is the finish for him!" grated Ham. "What do you suppose
could have happened to Doc in that pronged boat? Could Kama have got

The first of Ham's remark was directed at the plight of Sir Arthur
Westcott. Despite his stolid British courage, the Englishman groaned

There was a deep grinding of ice against rock. Sir Arthur had strained
the length of the short chains. But the slowly pushing ice already had
caught his shoulder. The pinch had cut the flesh. Blood flowed over
one hand.

The narrow shelf under Sir Arthur's feet slivered off. The tortured
Britisher was suddenly left suspended by the chains. Against him a
corner of the ice was pushing, pushing, pushing.

Perhaps, in time, that chain would break. But it could only be snapped
by a pressure that would first reduce the prisoner's body to a thing
of jellied bone.

Sir Arthur suddenly shouted in an agonized tone. Plainly, his brain
was giving away under the strain.

Then Johnny spoke quickly, "He's back--Doc's come back! There's the
submarine with one empty eye--"

"Yeah!" rapped out Ham. "An' there's Kama's sub right on their tail!
There doesn't seem anything Doc can do to shake him! I'm afraid
there's nothing even Doc can do in time!"

Doc's submarine shot toward the hanging finger of the glacier. The
prongs passed underneath the ice close to the point where Sir Arthur
was being inexorably squeezed. The Britisher now was only mumbling out
his intense suffering.

The four prongs of Kama's submarine crossed the open space toward the
ice. They were stopped.

FROM under the ice leaped a blinding light. It was as if a blowtorch
of giant size had suddenly begun spurting fire. The flame danced with
varied colors from the face of the glacier.

Johnny, who was next to Sir Arthur, lost all of his scholarly aplomb.
He shouted.

"I told you so! Doc's got it! Well, I'll be superamalgamated! The
whole place is getting hot!"

Johnny spoke the truth. All of the inside of the Place of Glacial
Death was becoming heated. From under the corner of the crushing
glacier leaped darting tongues of blue-green fire.

The heat must have been withering. Probably it was of an intensity
that would have cut into the hardest steel.

Most certainly the spouting flame was penetrating the ice of the
glacial finger. One wide crack appeared. Into this, water started
pouring down. This was on the corner which was slowly crushing Sir
Arthur to squeezed flesh.

Abruptly, the whole corner of the glacial finger split. Tons of ice
were being dissolved as if they had been pushed into a fiery furnace.
The face of the glacier closest to Sir Arthur roared of its own weight
and went crashing into the water under it.

"Holy cow!" shouted Renny. "If that ever hit that sub, it would be all
up with Doc!"

But this falling chunk dived, then came slowly up. It was as large as
a small berg. Its fall revealed Doc's submarine.

From the prong without an eye shot the melting flame. The heat of it
was so intense, even the alloy metal of the projector was beginning to
fall away.

The fierce blaze hissed with the pressure behind it. Doc's men on the
narrow shelf could not understand the source. They did not know of the
laboratory Doc and Monk had discovered. Nor did they know of the
compressed air tanks which had been charged from the ballast power
pumps of the submarine.

Doc's craft moved slightly. The gigantic blowtorch was touching more
of the glacial finger. Like a knife dividing soft cheese, it cut the
granitelike ice apart.

"Your Doc Savage," murmured a voice. "He arrived. By jove! I admit
he's a great fellow--a great fellow--almost as great as the king

Then Sir Arthur Westcott, loyal subject of His Britannic Majesty,
fainted. He was hanging suspended by the chain manacles. His injuries
were painful, but he probably would live.

"I was afraid of that!" groaned Long Tom. "That devil, Kama, is going
after Doc!"

THE prongs of Kama's submarine were moving swiftly. No doubt, the
maddened man from San Tao had decided to ram Doc's craft. This time,
he intended to destroy the bronze giant in such manner there could be
no doubt of his death.

The prisoners groaned. After all, if Kama won this battle, their
deaths had only been delayed.

"He's going to ram right into the other sub!" said Johnny.

Kama's silvery fish gathered speed. The monster blowtorch was filling
the cavern with heat. Another mighty section of the glacial finger was

The prisoners gasped. With a roaring crash, Kama's submersible smashed
its pointed prow into the other vessel. It seemed the ram had passed
clear through the other craft.

Air hissed. A flood of oil painted a rainbow across the green water.
The flame of the giant blowtorch snapped off as if a wire had been

"There ain't anything can save Doc now!" groaned Renny. "Unless maybe
that devil Kama gets him outta there!"

But Kama, the man of San Tao, was not to rescue Doc Savage.

Thunder shook the mountain. It was like the rumbling of a great
earthquake. It was crackling, crashing sound.

At least half of the glacial finger in the cavern had been split off
by the effect of the terrible blowtorch from the prong of the now-
wrecked submersible.

With a roar, more than a thousand tons of ice crashed down into the
green water. The massive chunk went deep. There were other splintering

"Well, I'll be superamalgamated!" grasped Johnny. "Doc and Kama both!
The subs went down!"

THE other prisoners gasped and swore. There was no doubt of it. The
fishlike submarines, joined by their collision, must have been
flattened under that ice like a watch might have been under a steam

All around, the green water arose in a great wave. It slapped over the
prisoners chained to the shelf. Only their chains prevented them from
being dragged from their places.

As the water subsided, a few bodies rolled to the surface. None
attempted to swim. Some of the Orientals had been mangled to death,
even before they had been drowned. Oil and blood floated up together.

"It looks as if that's the finish for Doc!" moaned Renny.

"He saved us for the time, and then he got it," stated Ham.

"I'm afraid you are correct," said a new voice. "I was hoping to get
here in time to prevent it. I was imprisoned in the cavern where the
power is located. I just managed to escape and I found the keys that
may unlock your manacles. We will see."

"Holy cow!" exclaimed Renny. "Professor Callus! And I thought they had
got you up on the mountain!"

"No," announced Professor Callus. "They seized me and killed the
driver of my cart. I was brought under the glacier and imprisoned in a
big room."

The professor's enormous head rocked on his skinny shoulders. The
strange daylight shone from his hairless skull.

"I thought I had discovered the mystery of the ocean haunt," he said.
"I was hoping Doc Savage and I could work out the formula together.
There's a fellow called the Man of Peace who knows all about it."

Professor Callus was trying the keys. One by one, he was freeing the
prisoners. Renny was the first to swing over and get to the limp
figure of Sir Arthur Westcott. He deposited the limp man on the narrow

"That red-headed woman had a lot to do with getting us into this, an'
it ain't the first time she's tried to kill Doc," declared the big

"I am much afraid you speak the truth," declared Professor Callus.
"Unfortunately, I was unable to reach Doc Savage on the glacier above.
I had learned some strange things about this Lora Krants."

"And what were these things you learned?"

The heavy voice rapped out from back of the narrow shelf.

Professor Callus had come onto the shelf through a passage which the
prisoners had not known existed. In the entrance to this passage stood
the heavy-browed Barton Krants.

The youth accompanied his question with an unexpected leap. He struck
savagely at the professor's shining bald dome. The blow was a glancing

For a man devoted to scientific pursuits, Professor Callus was
surprisingly quick. One hand lashed out. The skinny fingers fastened
on Barton Krants's throat.

The youth smashed again with his fist. It seemed to have little effect
on the hard, shining skull. In the professor's hand appeared a
snubnosed gun. He pushed this into the youth's stomach.

"You and your sister are fakes!" he shouted. "I've known it all the
time! You have been responsible for most of this killing! But you have
come to the end!"

"Hey, don't do that!" shouted Renny. "You can't kill a man because--"

THERE came the briefly spaced double crack of an automatic rifle. The
explosions whirled the prisoners around. They were looking at an
ordinary fishing schooner. The vessel had glided into the glacial
cavern from an outside passage.

Professor Callus gurgled in his throat. His snubnosed gun hit the
shelf and bounced into the water below. Across the shining dome was
furrowed a deep, red line. Close to it was another mark. But this was
not a red furrow.

It was a clean, round hole. The eye behind that rifle had been
certain. The hand on the trigger had been sure.

Professor Callus uttered no further sound. His great head seemed to
weigh his small body down. The shining skull rolled off the shelf. The
weight pulled the rest of his skinny form along.

The water splashed. Barton Krants yelled, "Sis! Good enough!"

"Holy cow!" rumbled Renny. "That red-headed dame again! And she
murdered the professor in cold blood!"

The slim, red-headed girl stood on the foredeck of the fishing
schooner. Death smoke still curled from the rifle in her hands.

"Barton!" she cried out. "Are you all right?"

"I'm all right!" replied the heavy-browed youth. "But I've got to get
back! Sis, I've found him! You wait here!"

"Say," barked Ham, "what's this all about? You stay here and explain!"

But the heavy-browed Barton Krants was slipping back into the
passageway. The fishing schooner scraped the black rock wall. On its
deck were eight or ten nearly naked men. They were the huge

A mast with a rope ladder touched the narrow shelf. The red-headed
girl ascended it lightly, the rifle still held in her hands. Some of
the nearly naked men heaved after her.

Renny barged forward and seized the girl's wrist. With a cry of pain,
she dropped the rifle.

"I guess you've got some explainin' to do, sister!" growled the big
engineer. "Beginnin' back in Manhattan when you grabbed me, an' then
tried to burn Doc alive!"

The nearly naked men pushed forward. They jammed guns into Renny.
Rifles menaced the others. Renny released the red-headed girl.

"Never mind, they'll be all right," said the girl. She spoke in
Norwegian. "They're my friends, though they don't know it."

"Holy cow!" grunted Renny. "You think we don't know you're hooked up
with these crooks? Professor Callus spilled it before you murdered

THE girl smiled sadly. She shook her round head.

"You'll have to listen, Colonel Renwick," she said. "You were kidnaped
by mistake by some of my men in Manhattan. They believed you were
Professor Callus. You were released, when I told them their mistake."

"Yeah? Then, Miss Krants, explain how you happened to head the gang
that tried to bump off Doc? They've finally done it, those devils of
Kama's, even if they did go with him!"

The girl's face became deadly white.

"You mean they've got Mr. Savage?" she murmured. "Oh, they couldn't!
Not now, after everything else seem to be coming out all right! Doc
Savage is alive! I just know it! Don't you understand? I played in
with that crowd to trap Mr. Savage in Manhattan! That got me in with
the brains of this whole scheme! But I telephoned you at the hangar in
time to save Mr. Savage from being burned to death."

Ham stepped forward. His lean face lighted.

"That's right, Renny," he stated. "It was a woman who telephoned. It
sounds reasonable. There is much to this which we haven't discovered.
But, Miss Krants, I fear Renny has spoken the truth. Doc was buried
with the others under the glacier when it fell."

The red-headed girl sobbed convulsively. There was considerably more
than just interest in a friend in her grief.

"He saved my life," the girl said, slowly. "Nothing could have
happened to Doc Savage."

But the cold, green water of the underground sea had ceased to ripple.
The great bulk of the floating ice reared like a slowly moving
monument to death.

"I wish I could have your faith," began Johnny. "But--"

A rending, rumbling explosion drowned his speech. The uncanny daylight
went out as though some one had thrown a switch. The Place of the
Glacial Death became a Stygian tomb.

"Oh!" gasped the red-headed girl. "It has happened!"

Whatever the fearsome thing might be, it was still happening. In some
distant cavern flared a great pinkish glow. Through the ice caverns
seeped the acrid smell of acids like the burning of sulphur.

Then once more the darkness became intense. Bit by bit, great chunks
of rock or ice were thudded from cavern roofs in the distance. The
last bit fell, then there was silence.

"He has done it," spoke the red-headed girl in a stricken voice.
"Barton! Barton!"

"Can't we muster up some sort of light?" questioned Johnny in

"Oil torches, Skavnar!" said the red-headed girl, more firmly.

The torches began casting fitful, grotesque shadows on the deck of the

Then Long Tom cried out, "Look! He's coming up out of the sea! Miss
Krants, do you know if Doc had the glass fish on that submarine?"

THE reply of the red-headed girl was not needed. A faint blue glow
appeared far down in the water. It spread rapidly. It was rising to
the surface.

Doc Savage's glass cylinder emerged close to the side of the schooner.
As it touched, floating, the lid slid back. First appeared the dead-
white face of Knut Aage.

After him came the ugly, apelike countenance of Monk.

"Hello, insect!" rapped Ham, hiding his feelings with heavy sarcasm.
"I can't get rid of you! I can't even get rid of that pig!"

The smooth, bronze head of Doc Savage appeared. The giant adventurer
stood erect on the deck of the fishing schooner.

He spoke rapidly in Norwegian to the nearly naked men. Their oil
torches clustered around him.

"We thought you had taken your last dive," said Ham, grinning. "No one
could live under a thousand tons or so of ice."

"We were too far down for it to reach us," advised Doc. "We saw the
glacier breaking. The glass fish was a couple of hundred feet under
when it struck. We saw the body of Professor Callus. His head seemed
to be pulling him deeper. Miss Krants, I am glad you have arrived. We
must get to the cavern of light at once."

The lips of the red-headed girl trembled. Tears spotted her white

"You know--oh, you do know?"

"Yes, I know nearly all of it," stated Doc Savage. "I have been partly
informed ever since I made a telephone call to Del Monte, California,
before we left Manhattan. The real Lora Krants is in Del Monte. She
confirmed her friendship for you and your brother. She did not object
to your assuming her identity."

"Howlin' calamities!" squeaked Monk. "I knew all the time the redhead
wasn't playin' on the square! She shook hands with me! Then she had
them indecent guys without clothes try to smother me to death!"

The red-headed girl smiled at Monk through her tears.

"I like you too much to have harm come to you, Monk," she said,

"Maybe she was just trying to do the world a great favor," said Ham,
maliciously. "Too bad they didn't finish the job."

"I don't know why Doc took the trouble to melt off that glacier!"
howled Monk. "Think of all the people who would have been spared
listening to your loose mouth!"

Sir Arthur Westcott opened his eyes and spoke feebly.

"Well, by jove! What queer fellows your blighters are, Doc Savage!"

Doc Savage said, "We must not delay longer. Let us get to the cavern
of light and find this Man of Peace."


BARTON KRANTS held the body of the white-haired Man of Peace in his
arms. The rugged face was peaceful. The sunken eyes were closed in
death. But a smile remained on the giant's lips.

"He realized at the last what this power of light would mean to the
world in the hands of the wrong persons," stated Doc Savage. "So he
destroyed his lifetime of work and himself with it. It was a great

The red-headed girl knelt beside the white-haired giant. Her hand
softly stroked his shaggy hair.

"It is best this way," she murmured. "Oh, if we could only have
reached him before it was too late."

"The murderer of Hjalmar Landson has met justice," stated Knut Aage.
"Those who would have turned the evil force loose upon the world have
been destroyed. My people can resume their occupation of peace."

"Yes," stated Doc Savage. "Many murders have been avenged. The first
was that of the professor, Homus Jasson, who was killed at my door in
Manhattan. He came to warn me, I believe. Another man trapped him."

"But, Doc," said Ham, "how about all of the weapons Homus Jasson was
carrying, and that deadly hamadryad cobra?"

"I am sure they were on the person of the other man," stated Doc. "He
intended to destroy us, fearing we would detect his scheme when Homus
Jasson arrived. After he killed Jasson, he planted the lethal weapons
upon him. He felt that for a time he would be safe."

"Dag-gone it!" piped up Monk. "I don't quite get it yet!"

"The President of the United States will be greatly pleased and
greatly grieved," said Doc Savage. "The Man of Peace before you was
Arne Dass, the great scientist who disappeared. Miss Krants and her
brother are Kana and Barton Dass. They were the first to suspect their
father was the originator of the haunted-ocean fight. They were made
agents of the department of justice."

"Holy cow!" gulped Renny. "Then I was grabbed by a bunch of them G-men
in Manhattan?"

"It would seem that was it," smiled Doc. "The man who Arne Dass
trusted to help bring peace to the world, realized the millions in the
power. Dass sent him to Washington to negotiate with his own
government. This man contacted Kama, of San Tao, and his crowd. Then
he contrived to get many bids from other nations."

"But these men of the icy blood?" said Johnny.

"The person who was aid to Dass was a great scientist himself,"
advised Doc. "He produced rigor mortis in Homus Jasson a few minutes
after he was killed. He had the secret by which the loyal Norwegians
were made almost impervious to cold. But the Norwegians fought for the
Man of Peace, Arne Dass. The aid was compelled to use Kama's men for
his own ends."

"So Professor Callus was the real crook, the killer?" said Ham. "And
the girl played along with him to try and save her father?"

"That about sums up all the answers," said Doc Savage.

"Howlin' calamities!" squealed out Monk. "I forgot all about Habeas
Corpus! I've got to get outta here and find that pig!"

"Your queer quadruped is being well taken care of," assured Knut Aage.
"My people will give you a different reception, when we return. I
instructed them the animal was not to be harmed."

"And that just about spoils the whole finish to a great and perfect
adventure!" rapped Ham. "There doesn't seem any way I can get rid of
that pig!"

Ham and Monk in all probability would argue about Habeas Corpus the
duration of their trip back to New York.


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