"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 234 - Temple of Crime" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

the voice of Ammon -"

Monak was bowing forward, and other robed men copied his action. A stir followed in the rear rank, as
more heads began to bow, only to stop in frozen fashion. Margo could understand the horror that
gripped the rest, for she was riveted, too.

IT was a voice that halted them.

A voice that spoke with anguished shriek, as though the great stone statue of Ammon had poured out all
the stored fervor of the centuries that had passed while the temple stood idle.

Wild, high, prolonged, the screech reverberated through the stone room, as though the fanciful creatures
carved on the walls were echoing it with their distorted tongues.

Bowing men raised their heads and turned, terror written on their faces. Even Monak's eyes looked
glassy when Margo saw them. It was then that Margo realized that the statue had not spoken.

Turning with the others, Margo saw the woman next to her, a middle-aged woman whose hair bore
traces of gray. It was she who had screamed, not waiting for the voice of Ammon.

The woman was pointing toward the pedestal that bore the statue. Slowly, all eyes followed the wavering
finger. There was a sudden shift of robed figures, as every man, Monak included, recoiled from the thing
toward which the woman pointed.

There lay a robed member of the cult who had bowed much farther than the others in the front rank, and
with good reason.

He was sprawled, face downward, with extended arms, and from his back projected the object that had
felled him - a knife, buried to the hilt. The light from a flickery torch gave a view of his profile, for his
head had rolled to one side.

His was the face that had shown contempt for the rites of Ammon, but now its expression displayed the
horror that came with sudden death. The man on the floor was Hugh Calbot, whose membership in the
Ammon Cult had puzzled Margo Lane!

CHAPTER II. MURDER EXPLAINED
SILENT, the great statue of Ammon stared at the dim streaks of dawn. Stony lips remained frozen, as
fixed as those of Calbot, the dead man on the floor. Persons who looked upward shrank, at first, when
they viewed the ram's face of the idol.

Perhaps the fact that Ammon had not spoken was more terrible than if the statue had voiced a greeting to
the dawn. Silence could mean that Ammon was offended by some mocker among the cult that owned
him. It might be that this strange god of Egypt possessed a power from the past, and with it was able to
deliver death when he so chose.

One man was prepared to broach that claim: Amru Monak. Stepping toward the statue, he turned and
swept both arms high. He was more than a defender of Ammon; he was acting as human proxy for the
ram god. While Ammon still stared stonily toward the feeble dawn, Monak hurled his wrath upon the
members of the cult.