The Bloodhounds of Zirth
by Lloyd Palmer
Purnell jumped up from his chair and bit his lower lip to keep from screaming. Then two tall men followed through the door and the biting, tearing flashes faded out of his mind. He slumped back into his chair. His forehead was covered with fine droplets of perspiration and his shirt fluttered to his heart's violent throbs. Yet Greg Purnell was a hard man who had come face to face with death many times on many strange planets.
Purnell looked over towards the desk in the corner. The trusty had dropped a set of cards and was trying to pick them up. His hands shook so violently that in three trials he succeeded in getting only two cards back on the desk. His face was pale and the sound of his breathing rasped through the room.
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