Robert Ervin Howard

The Country Of The Knife Robert Ervin Howard

A cry from beyond the bolted door-a thick, desperate croaking that gaspingly repeated a name. Stuart Brent paused in the act of filling a whisky glass, and shot a startled glance toward the door from beyond which that cry had come. It was his name that had been gasped out-and why should anyone call on him with such frantic urgency at midnight in the hall outside his apartment?