On and on Tony went, a cold uneasiness rising within him. No one appeared to bar his path. More than once he glanced at the carbon-gun—but he was unprepared when the floor dropped beneath him, and he fell, writhing and twisting, into darkness.
He landed heavily on a hard surface, and went down with a grunt and an oath. Before he could rise, he felt the weight of muscular bodies upon him. Handicapped by the darkness, he fought doggedly, but the gun was torn from his grasp almost at the outset of the struggle. He was not in complete blackness; there was a vague dim glow, but Tony’s eyes were not conditioned to it, as those of his enemies were. At last he lay prostrate, held motionless by iron hands that gripped him.
A deep voice murmured a command. The light grew brighter. Tony blinked, staring up from his position spread-eagled on a stone floor. He discovered that he was in a bare chamber, with a barred door of metal grating set in one wall. Five strong-thewed Copts held him—but almost immediately Tony saw that they were not Copts. Their faces lacked the degeneracy of the underground mining race. They were cruel instead of stupid. Cruel—and arrogant, proud! Proud with the knowledge of a culture that stretched back into the mists of a lost antiquity.
One man stood against the wall—and he was a giant. He wore a short spade beard, and soft, glossy black hair fell in curled, oily ringlets about his face. He was handsome with the beauty of a sword-blade, strong and powerful and deadly, and his beaked nose was hooked like a scimitar. Pale blue eyes watched Tony unwinkingly.
In not-quite-perfect English, he said, “I am Thotmes.” Tony could not repress a slight movement, and the blue eyes narrowed; but the priest merely smiled. “You know me? That is strange. Perhaps you have spoke to . . . Osiris!”
He nodded to the priests, who relaxed their grip on Tony. The legionnaire sprang up, but made no hostile movement. He stood silent, watching Thotmes.
The Atlantean stroked his beard. “You are wise. This will be your prison, and, if you cause no trouble, you can live for a time. We do not murder unnecessarily.”
“Only nine-tenths of the world’s population,” Tony said gently.
“That,” Thotmes smiled, “is necessary. We are a handful, against billions. Not even the powers we shall recover from Atlantis would enable us to conquer Earth—unless Earth is already conquered, her navies and aircraft and weapons smashed by cataclysms.”