“Jump for it!”
“Can’t,” Tony said. “They’d wing me . . .”
“You’ve got to. I can hear them coming up here, too.”
“Beat it. Get back to Desquer. Tell him the machine’s in the base of this pyramid. I’m going out this way; there’ll be a better chance of one of us getting through if we take different routes. Beat it!”
There was a pause, punctuated by the snarl of the carbon-gun. Then Phil said, “Okay. Luck!”
His feet scraped on the stone above. The panel slammed shut. Tony made a wry face, realizing that Phil was unarmed. But he had a better chance of escape than Tony himself, for a dozen or more of priests was blocking the passage that led—perhaps!—to freedom.
Tony fired again. The foremost of the priests went down, and the others hesitated. The gun crackled savagely. One priest broke and fled—and the others followed.
Tony hurried after them, every sense on the alert. The passage was apparently bare, and silent save for the dying thump of flying feet; but he guessed that there might be traps. Would this road lead to escape? And—had Phil escaped safely? There was no way of knowing—yet.
The passage stretched empty before Tony. He gripped the gun, feeling in its cold metal a reassurance against even the danger of Thotmes and his powers. There was no limit to the weapon’s potentialities. The stronger the charge, the more effective the results. With a powerful enough charge, Tony thought sardonically, he could bring down the whole pyramid. Unfortunately he had no ammunition, save for the clip in the gun’s butt.