"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 008 - The Sargasso Ogre" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

SEVERAL brightly glowing flashlights marked the spot. Men were squatting cross-legged, or standing
about a sprawled form. The latter was Long Tom.

The right side of Long Tom's face was a sticky red smear from a cut on his scalp, evidently the result of a
blow which had knocked him senseless. His dazed manner showed that he had just revived.

A large heap of bones shrouded in a white burnoose, Pasha Bey was hunkered in front of Long Tom. In
the professional murderer's gaunt claw was a book of ordinary travelers' checks. These comprised Long
Tom's traveling funds, and they totaled more than a thousand dollars.

"By the left eye of Allah, himself, I swear it!" Pasha Bey was murmuring. "If you will sign these travelers'
checks, I will let you go free and guide you out of this devil's den of bones!"

It was apparent Long Tom was still alive only because of Pasha Bey's greed. Long Tom had signed each
of the checks when buying them, as was customary. They could be cashed only when he signed them a
second time in the space which was provided. Pasha Bey no doubt had a way of getting the money for
them, once they were complete with both signatures.

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.