"Doc Savage Adventure 1933-10 The Sargasso Ogre" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doc Savage Collection)

Bending low, Doc explained them.

Into the sour murk of the hut there abruptly came a strange, exotic sound. It was a low, trilling, mellow note, which might have been the sound of some weird bird of the jungle, or a wind filtering through the piled stone of the ancient ruins around about. Although melodious, it had no tune. It had an uncanny quality, for it seemed to come from no particular spot.

It was part of Doc Savage, this sound -- a small, unconscious thing which he did in moments of stress.

The bloody finger prints were from Long Tom's right hand! Doc had seen the prints of his five men countless times, and could recognize them instantly.

He grasped the stone lid. It had rasped under Homar's clutch, but it lifted noiselessly under Doc's hand -- so silently, that it almost seemed the bronze man had a supernatural power to command quiet.

Cold, damp steps led down; then came a black, low tunnel. Dust of ages lay on the floor. The sound of Homar's footsteps thumped like the beat of a water-filled drum.

Doc whipped forward without noise, showing no light, sensitive hands feeling out the way. The walls were rough. In spots, there were hard, crusted deposits formed by water seepage through the centuries.

They came to a spot where the ancient corridor branched three ways. Homar took the one to the right. He seemed to know where he was going.

The character of the walls abruptly changed, becoming solid instead of jointed masonry. The passages were hewn out of natural rock.

Doc drew a small case from a pocket. This held a peculiar powder. At frequent intervals, he dropped a pinch on the tunnel floor.

Homar's footbeats led on iinterminably. Shuffle and thud! Shuffle and thud! The noises had a dull, deathlike quality. The air was dusty. It was like breathing within a trunk which had been long closed.

Again and again, the passages branched. And every few yards, Doc left a bit of his powder on the floor. His actions might have seemed a bit puzzling. The stuff gave off no odor, no phosphorescent glow.

The tunnel widened, forming a series of long rooms. Doc's hands, along the walls, encountered what felt vaguely like rounded stones. These were arched entirely to the ceiling. He knew what they were.

Human skulls! The walls were lined with them.

Farther on, there were many casket-shaped niches cut in the rock, and in these were stacked arm and leg bones, spinal columns, ribs. It was a macabre, hideous place. Compared to these catacombs, a walk through a graveyard at midnight was no more awesome than a stroll through a town park.

Doc Savage went forward without flinching or shivering. If he experienced any of the feelings which would have gripped another man, he did not show it. Doc had remarkable powers of concentration. He avoided the ghostly, spine-chilling effects of his surroundings simply by putting his attention on following the man ahead, and keeping it there.

Homar was carrying his flashlight at his side.

Deeper and deeper into the maze, they penetrated. They descended steps. The catacombs seemed to be cut several stories deep. Countless thousands were the dead who had been buried here, for the city had been founded in the third century.

In some passages the stone had caved in, closing them, probably forever. Three times, Homar opened stone doors. Doc, a silent specter at his heels, kept leaving small deposits of his powder.

They came finally to their destination.


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.