"023 (B009) - The Mystic Mullah (1935-01) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

She was tall, with dark hair and lashes that were altogether delectable. But there was something else about her. She was businesslike, capable. Her person radiated efficiency.



Her clothing was thoroughly modern, and so was the blue automatic which she held in her hand as the door opened.



The hook-nosed Khan Shar looked at the gun and smiled as if it might have been a cocktail the young woman intended offering him.



"I do not feel there is danger," he said. "We have not heard of the Mystic Mullah since our caravan left the Gobi."



The girl kept the gun in her hands. "A thousand lives depend on what we are doing," she said dryly. "If you want to be dramatic, you can put the figure higher."



The Khan's dark face drained of its color, giving him a stark, agonized look.



"You could put the figure higher and not be dramatic," he said thickly.



Neither spoke again, for the tugboat engine had changed its regular pulse and was running slowly; it accelerated, then pounded, as if the craft were backing. Shouts rang out, and scraping sounds on deck indicated ropes dragging. There was a bump, rather violent, then lesser bumps and the tug heeled so that the Khan put out a hand to steady himself. There were four large rings, each with a big jewel, on his fingers.



"I trust we have tied to a secluded dock," said the Khan~



"Hadim!" called the girl.



The door opened and a lean man with a long, brown face came in. He was dressed in a flowing jubbah and shirwals that fitted his legs tightly, and he carried his left arm stiffly, as if not wishing to disturb the long knife which the deckhand had seen up that sleeve.



This Hadim did not present an appealing picture, for someone had made a pass at him with a sword or a knife in the past, and had come just close enough to groove his face with a permanent scar from forehead to chin. He bowed deeply to the girl.



"Yes, Miss Joan," he said.