"008 (B018) - The Sargasso Ogre (1933-10) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

Long Tom scowled. "No! You can't kid me!"



"By both eyes of Allah, I swear that I -- "



"I know a liar when I see one! You can swear by all of Allah, and I wouldn't believe a word!"



Pasha Bey slipped one of his razor-sharp singes from an arm sheath. In the fitful glare of the flashlights, he presented a sinister figure. He might have been an assembly of hones taken from the surrounding catacomb walls, stained brown, animated with life, and covered with a white burnoose.



"Wallah!" he snarled. "You will have but one more chance to sign these paper slips!"



Long Tom slowly propped himself to a sitting position. His wrists and ankles were tightly bound. His pale face was even whiter than usual, and grimly composed. He was wise enough to know he was very near death, whether he signed the travelers' checks or not.



His roped feet suddenly drove out. He had decided to take a desperate chance. The awkward kick sent Pasha Bey spinning head over heels. The singa flew up, clinked on the ceiling, and all but speared Long Tom as it dropped at his back near his bound hands.



Sliding his bound wrists over the blade, cutting the ropes with one slice, Long Tom grasped the big knife. He chopped desperately at the bonds on his feet.



Howling, Pasha Bey's men rushed forward. Nearly every brown paw clutched a foot or more of glinting steel. They crouched low to the floor. They were like evil, tobacco colored mice in white sheets.



The next instant, they were even more like mice. Mice with a gigantic bronze cat in their midst!



Two blows popped. Each broke bones, crushed flesh. The two men who had been hit fell without knowing what had happened-knocked out.



The form of Long Tom was wrenched bodily from under the descending knives.