Robert Howard - ROBERT E. HOWARD Ultimate Collection – 300+ Cult Classics

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This carefully crafted ebook: «ROBERT E. HOWARD Ultimate Collection – 300+ Cult Classics, Adventure Novels, Western, Horror & Detective Stories, Historical Books (Including Poetry, Essays, Articles & Letters) – ALL in One Volume» is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents.
Robert Ervin Howard (1906 – 1936) was an American author who wrote pulp fiction in a diverse range of genres. He is well known for his character Conan the Barbarian and is regarded as the father of the sword and sorcery subgenre. In the pages of the Depression-era pulp magazine Weird Tales, Howard created Conan the Barbarian, a character whose cultural impact has been compared to such icons as Batman, Count Dracula, James Bond, Sherlock Holmes, and Tarzan.
Table of Contents:
Fantasy Stories:
'Conan the Barbarian' Stories
The 'Kull' Stories
The 'Solomon Kane' Stories
The 'Bran Mak Morn' Stories
The 'Turlogh Dubh O'Brien' Stories
The 'James Allison' Stories
Other Fantasy Stories
Boxing Stories:
The 'Sailor Steve Costigan' Stories
Other Boxing Stories
Western Stories:
The 'Breckinridge Elkins' Stories
The 'Pike Bearfield' Stories
The 'Buckner Jeopardy Grimes' Stories
Other Western Stories
Historical Stories:
The 'El Borak' Stories
The 'Cormac Fitzgeoffrey' Stories
The 'Kirby O'Donnell' Stories
The 'Black Vulmea' Stories
The 'Helen Tavrel' Story
Other Historical Stories
Horror Stories:
The 'John Kirowan' Stories
The Faring Town Saga
The 'De Montour' Stories
The Weird West Stories
Other Weird Menace
Other Cthulhu Mythos Stories
Other Horror Stories
Detective Stories:
The 'Steve Harrison' Stories
Spicy Stories:
The 'Wild Bill Clanton' Stories
Poetry
Essays and Articles
Letters
A Tribute Poem

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'Naturally my suspicions were roused, for Kallian Publico always locks the door with the great lock when he closes the Temple; and I had not seen him return since he left earlier in the evening for his villa in the eastern suburbs of the city. I have a key that works the bolt; I entered and found the body lying as you see. I have not touched it.'

'So,' Demetrio's keen eyes swept the somber stranger. 'And who is this?'

'The murderer, without doubt!' cried Arus. 'He came from that door yonder. He is a northern barbarian of some sort—a Hyperborean or a Bossonian, perhaps.'

'Who are you?' asked Demetrio.

'I am Conan,' answered the barbarian. 'I am a Cimmerian.'

'Did you kill this man?'

The Cimmerian shook his head.

'Answer me!' snapped the questioner.

An angry glint rose in the moody blue eyes.

'I am no dog,' he replied resentfully.

'Oh, an insolent fellow!' sneered Demetrio's companion, a big man wearing the insignia of prefect of police. 'An independent cur! One of these citizens with rights, eh? I'll soon knock it out of him! Here, you! Come clean! Why did you murder—'

'Just a moment, Dionus,' ordered Demetrio curtly. 'Fellow, I am chief of the Inquisitorial Council of the city of Numalia. You had best tell me why you are here, and if you are not the murderer, prove it.'

The Cimmerian hesitated. He was not afraid, but slightly bewildered, as a barbarian always is when confronted by the evidence of civilized networks and systems, the workings of which are so baffling and mysterious to him.

'While he's thinking it over,' rapped Demetrio, turning to Arus, 'tell me—did you see Kallian Publico leave the Temple this evening?'

'No, he's usually gone when I arrive to begin my sentry-go. But the great door was bolted and locked.'

'Could he have entered the building again without your having seen him?'

'Why, it's possible, but hardly probable. The Temple is large, and I walk clear around it in a few minutes. If he had returned from his villa, he would of course have come in his chariot, for it is a long way—and who ever heard of Kallian Publico travelling otherwise? Even if I had been on the other side of the Temple, I'd have heard the wheels of the chariot on the cobble-stones, and I've heard no such thing, nor seen any chariots, except those which always pass along the streets just at dusk.'

'And the door was locked earlier in the night?'

'I'll swear to it. I try all doors several times during the night. The door was locked on the outside until perhaps half an hour ago—that was the last time I tried it, until I found it unlocked.'

'You heard no cries or struggles?'

'No. But that's not strange. The walls of the Temple are so thick, they're practically sound-proof—an effect increased by the heavy hangings.'

'Why go to all this trouble of questions and speculations?' complained the burly prefect. 'It's much easier to beat a confession out of a suspect. Here's our man, no doubt about it. Let's take him to the Court of Justice—I'll get a statement if I have to smash his bones to pulp.'

Demetrio looked at the barbarian.

'You understand what he said?' asked the Inquisitor. 'What have you to say?'

'That any man who touches me will quickly be greeting his ancestors in hell,' the Cimmerian ground between his powerful teeth, his eyes glinting quick flames of dangerous anger.

'Why did you come here, if not to kill this man?' pursued Demetrio.

'I came to steal,' sullenly answered the other.

'To steal what?' rapped the Inquisitor.

'Food,' the reply came after an instant's hesitation.

'That's a lie!' snapped Demetrio. 'You knew there was no food here. Don't lie to me. Tell me the truth or—'

The Cimmerian laid his hand on his sword hilt, and the gesture was as fraught with menace as the lifting of a tiger's lip to bare his fangs.

'Save your bullying for the fools who fear you,' he growled, blue fires smoldering in his eyes. 'I'm no city-bred Nemedian to cringe before your hired dogs. I've killed better men than you for less than this.'

Dionus, who had opened his mouth to bellow in wrath, closed it suddenly. The watchmen shifted their bills uncertainly and glanced at Demetrio for orders. They were struck speechless at hearing the all- powerful police thus bearded and expected a command to seize the barbarian. But Demetrio did not give it. He knew, if the others were too stupid to know, the steel-trap muscles and blinding quickness of men raised beyond civilization's frontiers where life was a continual battle for existence, and he had no desire to loose the barbaric frenzy of the Cimmerian if it could be avoided. Besides, there was a doubt in his mind.

'I have not accused you of killing Kallian,' he snapped. 'But you must admit the appearances are against you. How did you enter the Temple?'

'I hid in the shadows of the warehouse which stands behind this building,' Conan answered grudgingly. 'When this dog —' jerking a thumb at Arus—'passed by and rounded the corner, I ran quickly to the wall and scaled it—'

'A lie!' broke in Arus. 'No man could climb that straight wall!'

'Did you ever see a Cimmerian scale a sheer cliff?' asked Demetrio impatiently. 'I am conducting this investigation. Go on, Conan.'

'The corner is decorated with carvings,' said the Cimmerian. 'It was easy to climb. I gained .the roof before this dog came around the building again. I went across the roof until I came upon a trap- door which was fastened with an iron bolt that went through it and was locked on the inside. I was forced to hew the bolt in twain with my sword—'

Arus, remembering the thickness of that bolt, gulped involuntarily and moved further back from the barbarian, who scowled abstractedly at him, and continued.

'I feared the noise might wake somebody, but it was a chance I had to take. I passed through the trap-door and came into an upper chamber. I didn't pause there, but came straightway to the stair—'

'How did you know where the stair was?' snapped the Inquisitor. 'I know that only Kallian's servants and his rich patrons were ever allowed in those upper rooms.'

A dogged stubbornness shadowed Conan's eyes and he remained silent.

'What did you do after you reached the stair?' demanded Demetrio.

'I came straight down it,' muttered the Cimmerian. 'It let into the chamber behind yonder curtained door. As I came down the stairs I heard the noise of a door being opened. When I looked through the hangings I saw this dog standing over the dead man.'

'Why did you come from your hiding place?'

'It was dark when I saw the watchman outside the Temple. When I saw him here I thought he was a thief too. It was not until he jerked the watch-bell rope and lifted his bow that I knew he was the watchman.'

'But even so,' persisted the Inquisitor, 'why did you reveal yourself?

'I thought perhaps he had come to steal what—'the Cimmerian checked himself suddenly as if he had said too much.

'-What you had come after, yourself!' finished Demetrio. 'You have told me more than you intended! You came here with a definite purpose. You did not, by your own admission, tarry in the upper rooms, where the richest goods are generally stored. You knew the plan of the building—you were sent here by someone who knows the Temple well to steal some special thing!'

'And to kill Kallian Publico!' exclaimed Dionus. 'By Mitra, we've hit it! Grab him, men! We'll have a confession before morning!'

With a heathen curse Conan leaped back, whipping out his sword with a viciousness that made the keen blade hum.

'Back, if you value your dog-lives!' he snarled, his blue eyes blazing. 'Because you dare to torture shopkeepers and strip and beat harlots to make them talk, don't think you can lay your fat paws on a hillman! I'll take some of you to hell with me! Fumble with your bow, watchman—I'll burst your guts with .my heel before this night's work is over!'

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