The Adventure MEGAPACK ®. Уильям Хоуп Ходжсон

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      A bullet snickered over his shoulder and tore a hole in the copper mesh of the walls. Another clipped his neck. Dimly he heard Melita scream and then shout something.

      He gasped as a numbing, red-hot pang shot through his left arm. He pawed at the air. This was the end. William Travers, his brother, would never be avenged, nor would Mary, the little wife. For one vivid moment the mists cleared from the sailor’s eyes and he looked clear-eyed for his death.

      Steinberger staggered, panting, to his feet and sobbed with laughter. His sound arm rose and held the automatic steady. Travers closed his eyes and swayed on his feet.… There came a shot, then a fusillade of shots, and faintly Travers heard Steinberger choke.

      He opened his eyes and saw the German go down, fighting for breath, his chest a gory ruin where a soft-nosed bullet had mushroomed.

      Melita cried out in a faint voice as she watched the blue smoke curling up from the muzzle of the nickel-steel revolver she had snatched up from the floor. It was the revolver she had given to Travers, the revolver Travers had knocked from the German’s hand in the beginning of the fray.

      Travers stumbled forward. He was aware of a warm something flowing down his limp left arm, but he took no heed. He halted beside the dead man and looked down. He felt dizzy and very tired.

      “That squares things, Brietmann,” he muttered thickly. “Billy’ll rest easy now. And may … and may God have mercy on your soul.”

      Then he turned and saw Melita. Her eyes were wide with horror, and with one hand she held her handkerchief to her mouth. She had forgotten to breathe.

      Travers swore feebly and crossed to the motionless girl. At his touch on her arm she shuddered and roused herself. The revolver dropped unheeded to the floor and, swaying against the man’s shoulder, she commenced to cry.

      Travers raised Melita’s face and kissed her lips.

      “Melita!” he muttered thickly. “Let’s start again … together.”

      Then blackness came and he fainted.

      THE BLACK ADDER, by Dorothy Quick

      Talfa opened the casement window and, leaning out into the night, tried to see the garden below. It was a quiet, moonless night, and she could distinguish nothing. Even the stars were veiled, and a heavy impenetrable blue-blackness covered everything. But a soft wind carried the scent of the jasmines to her nostrils.

      She knew the garden so well that she could visualize it mentally, although its beauties were hidden from her eyes. There was the crystal pool and, beyond it, the marble summer house, always cool and inviting. Inside, on the couch of crimson silk, Boud Ali waited. At the thought of him lying there, his slim, muscular body relaxed on the cushions while the black curls of his hair lay loose about his handsome face, Talfa’s heart beat faster and her breasts throbbed against the casement sill.

      Boud Ali waited for her, and her every nerve cried out for him, longed for the relief that only resting in his arms could give. So near he was, such a few short steps, and she could feel his lips on hers. Heaven! And yet tonight it could not be!

      Talfa shook her head, and the two long braids of blue-black hair slipped over the window-ledge, stretching downward into the night. Talfa, like a Fairy Princess of old, had hair that waved softly about her piquant face and then fell rippling downward until it reached her knees. It was very thick and soft, and she wore it in braids to keep it out of her way. Her deep brown eyes peered out into the night as though they were striving to see the lover who waited for her, and her red lips trembled a little with the sorrow that enveloped her because she could not go to him.

      Just two short weeks they had known each other. Only fourteen days ago, she had danced before the Rajah and his guests. Among them had been Boud Ali. As she made the obscene movements that were meant to drive men mad, she had seen him and read desire in his black eyes—desire which had lit a flame in her own heart.

      When the dance was over and she and the other dancing-girls lay exhausted on the mosaics of the floor, she had heard the Rajah’s voice.

      “Choose whom you will among the dancing-girls to be your companion for the night—save those who are virgin: they are for me alone.”

      Talfa had raised her head and, through the clouds of smoke and incense, she had seen Boud Ali start toward her. Willingly would she have stayed and given to him all he asked, she who had never known the touch of man. But it was not to be so; for before he ever reached her side, the chief eunuch had caught her by the wrist and led her and two other girls back to the harem.

      There slaves had bathed them with scented waters, dried their hair, and they had sought their couches. Only Talfa could not sleep. The black eyes of Boud Ali had haunted her, and the heat of the night had been oppressive.

      She remembered so well that she had drawn a soft silk mantle over her and stolen silently down to the garden. No guards were about. The garden walls were high and the Rajah unafraid of his women betraying him. They knew too well the penalty that would be theirs if they were caught. For his wives perhaps he kept a stricter watch; but of these Talfa knew nothing, she who had been bought for a concubine because of her beauty and her ability to dance.

      For a year she had been in the palace and had never seen the Rajah except on the rare occasions when she was called upon to dance, as she had been tonight. But because she was a virgin, she never was allowed to stay for the aftermath of the feast. The Rajah was generous only with those who no longer tempted him. Talfa knew that some time he would send for her, and then—. But that night she had had no room in her thoughts for anyone beyond Boud Ali.

      She had gone down the tiny stairway like a ghost, past the sleeping eunuch, out into the cooling night; beyond the crystal pool she had sought the marble summer house. Here some day she would know the embraces of the Rajah when his eyes would rest upon her with desire. But for tonight she would dream of the young stranger.

      As she entered the pavilion someone rose from the crimson couch and came toward her with outstretched hands. In the glow of the moonlight she saw Boud Ali, and a crimson flush stained her slender young body under the silken robe.

      Boud Ali spoke, and his voice was low and musical. “Truly the priest spoke well who said we know not the power of our own thoughts. Here have I lain for hours, willing that you should come to me, and so the desire of my life has been granted. You are here!”

      Talfa took a step nearer to him. “But how did you come? The walls are far too high to climb.”

      His clear laugh rang through the scented night. “Nor did I climb! Gold brought me here—gold and a greedy slave, who opened a little-known door in that high wall, and has promised to do so yet again—and will, if you are kind.”

      The girl moved forward. “I saw you in the banquet hall,” she began.

      He moved toward her until they stood face to face. “Beloved,” he said softly, “I, too, saw such beauty as I had never dreamed, and love was born in my heart. Smile at me, sweet one. Smile, and tell me that I ask not in vain.”

      Talfa looked deep into his eyes, and the corners of her mouth curved deliciously. With a sudden gesture of surrender, she stretched forth her hands.

      The next second she was in his arms and her silken mantle lay unheeded on the floor.

      Twice since then the marble summer house СКАЧАТЬ