"Was washed out not long ago."

In the bas.e.m.e.nt, there was one empty room. It was too empty. Doc Savage scrutinized the floor, and there were traces of recent wear. The room apparently had received a great deal of use up until a late date.

A door led from the bas.e.m.e.nt directly into the back yard, and the yard was cut deeply by tires. Doc examined the marks. Truck tires. Made three or four hours ago, probably.

He said, "Someone hauled away the stuff in that empty bas.e.m.e.nt room last night, using a truck."

Chet Farmer nodded. There were enough grimy smears of tracks from the spot where the truck had stood back into the bas.e.m.e.nt room to show that this was what had happened.

Doc returned to the bas.e.m.e.nt. There was a furnace. He put a hand on it. Hot. He opened the furnace door. There were gray ashes that showed a glowing red heart when he thrust in a poker and stirred.

He decided that what had been burned had been cloth and paper mostly, but that was about all a visual inspection could show.

He bottled up specimens of the ashes and pocketed them.

Upstairs, in the kitchen, he gave attention to a drawer containing account slips from grocer, butcher, and milkman. He got the addresses off these, and used the telephone. Because the stores were closed, there was some delay locating the proprietors.

"No, I haven't noticed anything strange about the Harlands the last few days," said the grocer. "Except that Lada started ordering by telephone about a week ago."

Doc tried the milkman.

"I haven't seen hide nor hair of them for a week," the milkman reported. "However, they've been home.

They took milk. Kind of strange, too, because generally they swap the time of day with me every morning."

The butcher hadn't noticed anything peculiar, he explained sleepily. And what the h.e.l.l was the idea of waking up a man at this time of the morning?

Staring at Doc Savage, Chet Farmer said, "It begins to look as if the Harlands have hibernated in the house for about a week."

Doc Savage was thoughtful. "We might consult the neighbors on the point."The house to the right was empty and had been empty for some time.

Neighbor to the left had plenty of information, however. He was a tall man with a mustache of the variety commonly labeled soup strainer.

"I'll say there's something wrong at the Harlands'," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" Doc asked.

"About nine o'clock last night, shortly after it got dark and began raining," said the neighbor, "there was a commotion over at the Harlands, and we saw something strange. We saw a man dash out of the house, and another man chased him. The man who ran away got caught-"

The neighbor peered at Doc Savage while he hesitated.

"I ain't a drinking man," he said.

"Yes?" Doc's voice was quiet.

"And I ain't color-blind."

Doc waited.

The neighbor said, "The man who ran away was pink."

Chet Farmer said, "You mean it was a pink woman, don't you?"

The neighbor scowled. "I know a man when I see one, even if he's pink."

"Then you're sure it was a pink man?"

"Listen," the neighbor said, "I guess you think I'm nuts."

Doc Savage explained, "On the contrary, n.o.body is doubting your word, and in the end you will doubtless find that there is a very good explanation for what you saw."

"If there is an explanation, I wish I knew what it was." The neighbor wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

Doc asked, "Did you see a truck visit the Harland house last night?"

"Yes. It came about one o'clock, backed up to the cellar door, and they loaded a lot of stuff in the truck.

Then it left."

"Have you noticed anything peculiar about the Harland house during the last week?"

"I'll say! They wouldn't talk to us. Lada Harland and my wife have been good friends, but last Tuesday Martha went over to borrow a cup of flour, and Lada wouldn't open the door. Without opening the door, she said she had no flour. She said it kind of curt. Then on Wednesday, she wouldn't answer the door. And again on Thursday. We got to watching the place. And here's what I'm willing to bet-neither Lada Harland or her brother has been out of that house in a week."

"They are not there now."

"Then they went away in the truck."Doc was silent for a while. He said finally, "You are sure that it was a pink man you saw run from the house?"

"Positive.

Chapter IV. THE TRICK.

DOC SAVAGE'S group of five a.s.sistants had been with him since the beginning of his strange career.

The fact that their a.s.sociation had been so constant was probably the best index to the bronze man's character strength. Only an individual of great mental power could have held the allegiance of five such men.

The five aids were specialists in their own fields. Not only specialists, but world-renowned. Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Blodgett Monk Mayfair was a legend in the field of industrial chemistry. His homeliness-he did not have to be in a very dark alley to be mistaken for an ape-was also a legend, as was his pet pig, named Habeas Corpus.

Brigadier General Theodore Marley Brooks, called Ham because of his abhorrence for that article of diet, either on four legs or on the breakfast platter, was admittedly one of the most astute lawyers Harvard had ever turned out. He was famous, too, for the perpetual quarrel he managed to conduct with Monk, and for his pet chimpanzee, Chemistry, which looked remarkably like the hairy Monk.

There were three others. Colonel John Renny Renwick was famous for his fists and his engineering; Major Thomas J. Long Tom Roberts was an electrical engineer of repute; William Harper Johnny Littlejohn was an eminent archaeologist and geologist and user of big words.

The remarkable fact was that these five, each pre-eminent in his field, held more than a sneaking suspicion that the chief, Doc Savage, knew more about their own professions than they themselves knew.

Only Monk and Ham were at headquarters when Doc Savage and Chet Farmer arrived there. The pair were quarreling mildly, and Monk was working on one of his fingers with a needle and a pair of tweezers.

"Got a splinter in my finger," Monk muttered.

"He was scratching his head," Ham explained cheerfully.

Doc Savage introduced Chet Farmer. He explained what had happened, using brief, concise sentences that omitted no details. He finished, "Apparently something has been wrong at the Harland house for almost a week. They stopped a.s.sociating with the neighbors, ordered all their food over the telephone, and did not show themselves around the house."

Monk had been examining Chet Farmer. Apparently he took a dislike to the young man. Monk had a penchant for disliking handsome young men.

"What's the rack of sport clothes messing around in it for?" Monk asked.

Chet Farmer took exception to the reference to his golf-course attire.

"For a guy who must have got that suit off a scarecrow, you should talk," Chet said.

Ham grinned. Ham was an inveterate wearer of the latest fashions himself, and the fact that Monk was a careless dresser irritated him.Without speaking, Doc Savage left the room. Chet Farmer glanced after him curiously.

HAM BROOKS liked to make a business of showing courtesy to anyone whom Monk disliked. Getting to his feet, "Maybe you would like to look over the establishment," Ham said.

"That'd be swell!"

Ham introduced his pet chimp, Chemistry, extolled the good points of the animal, and ignored Habeas Corpus. The slight darkened Monk's scowl.

"This place occupies the whole eighty-sixth floor of the building," Ham explained. "This is the reception room. Adjoining is the library." He took Chet into the library, and the young man became rather speechless as he looked around the endless racks of scientific tomes.

"There's a lot of books here," he said.

"One of the most complete and advanced scientific libraries in existence," Ham a.s.sured him. "Come on.

I'll show you something that is something."

Chet Farmer followed Ham through another door, and stopped with a grunt of astonishment. His eyes swept a vast room containing gleaming apparatus. "What's this?"

"The laboratory," Ham said. "Doc uses a lot of scientific gadgets, and it's here that he works them out. In this room is the most complete-"

He caught Doc's eye, went silent. Doc was seated at the far end of the laboratory, at a typewriter. He shook his head slightly.

Ham took Chet Farmer's elbow and escorted him back into the reception room.

"What do you make of this mystery?" Ham asked.

Chet Farmer considered, then shrugged. "It's so c.o.c.keyed that I don't know what to say. The whole thing is goofy. Take the fact that the girl, Lada Harland, was pink. That was goofy. And those men with gas masks and bulletproof vests. It was hardly believable. In fact, it was so ridiculous that I could not believe the thing was real when I barged into the hotel lobby to get out of the rain."

"You just happened to run into the hotel?" Monk asked pointedly.

"Yes."

"To get out of the rain?"

"Yes."

"I haven't heard anybody mention your clothes being wet."

Chet Farmer's neck got red. "As a matter of fact, they weren't very wet."

"Why not?"

"The way I happened to be pa.s.sing came about like this: I was riding in my car, and the motor drowned out. I got out and ran into the hotel to telephone.""I suppose your car is still standing there."

"It is."

Monk got up. He went to the laboratory door.

"Doc," he called loudly, "Ham and I are going to be gone about an hour. We're going to see if-we're going to get Chet Farmer's car, which he says he left near the Hotel Troy."

Red heat of rage grew darker in Chet Farmer's neck. "I see I'm going to like you!" he told Monk grimly.

RETURNING to headquarters somewhat less than an hour later, Chet Farmer and Ham were grinning, and Monk was crestfallen.

Doc asked, "You find the car?"

Ham nudged Monk. "Go ahead and tell him."

"It was there," Monk muttered, "with the motor drowned out by the rain."

Doc Savage did not seem surprised. The bronze man drew from an inside pocket a long envelope. He held this in his hands while he spoke.

"We are in a rather strange position in this case," he said. "All we know is that a girl apparently tried to get to us to ask for help. We are taking for granted, of course, that she was headed for Ten West Street to find me. We might be mistaken on that point. The fact that I was to be at Ten West Street that night had been printed in the newspapers, and the girl could have learned it from that source. But again, she could have been trying to get to the museum for an entirely different reason."

"I thought of that," said Chet Farmer. "I wonder if we shouldn't investigate that angle."

Doc said, "Maybe the pink man can tell us."

"Eh?" Chet Farmer stared at him.

Doc glanced at the envelope he had in his hands. He gave the envelope to Monk.

"Take Ham with you," Doc told the homely chemist. "In that envelope, you will find complete instructions about where to find a third pink person. This third one is a man. In the envelope are directions telling exactly what to do when you have your pink man. I typed the instructions a few minutes ago."

Monk started to open the envelope.

Doc stopped him. "Get in a car, you and Ham, and be several blocks away from here, and sure no one is watching you, before you open the envelope. Then, as soon as you have memorized the instructions-destroy them."

Monk said, "I get it." He put the envelope in his inside pocket and b.u.t.toned his coat. "That all?"