THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU

By Sax Rohmer

CHAPTER I. A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS

"When did you last hear from Nayland Smith?" asked my visitor. 

I paused, my hand on the syphon, reflecting for a moment. 

"Two months ago, " I said; "he's a poor correspondent and rather soured, I fancy. "

"What--a woman or something?"

"Some affair of that sort. He's such a reticent beggar, I really knowvery little about it. "

I placed a whisky and soda before the Rev. J. D. Eltham, also slidingthe tobacco jar nearer to his hand. The refined and sensitive face ofthe clergy-man offered no indication of the truculent character of theman. His scanty fair hair, already gray over the temples, was silken andsoft-looking; in appearance he was indeed a typical English churchman;but in China he had been known as "the fighting missionary, " and hadfully deserved the title. In fact, this peaceful-looking gentleman haddirectly brought about the Boxer Risings!

"You know, " he said, in his clerical voice, but meanwhile stuffingtobacco into an old pipe with fierce energy, "I have often wondered, Petrie--I have never left off wondering--"

"What?"

"That accursed Chinaman! Since the cellar place beneath the site of theburnt-out cottage in Dulwich Village--I have wondered more than ever. "

He lighted his pipe and walked to the hearth to throw the match in thegrate. 

"You see, " he continued, peering across at me in his oddly nervous way, "one never knows, does one? If I thought that Dr. Fu-Manchu lived; ifI seriously suspected that that stupendous intellect, that wonderfulgenius, Petrie, er--" he hesitated characteristically--"survived, Ishould feel it my duty--"

"Well?" I said, leaning my elbows on the table and smiling slightly. 

"If that Satanic genius were not indeed destroyed, then the peace of theworld, may be threatened anew at any moment!"

He was becoming excited, shooting out his jaw in the truculent manner Iknew, and snapping his fingers to emphasize his words; a man composed ofthe oddest complexities that ever dwelt beneath a clerical frock. 

"He may have got back to China, Doctor!" he cried, and his eyes had thefighting glint in them. "Could you rest in peace if you thought that helived? Should you not fear for your life every time that a night-calltook you out alone? Why, man alive, it is only two years since he washere among us, since we were searching every shadow for those awfulgreen eyes! What became of his band of assassins--his stranglers, hisdacoits, his damnable poisons and insects and what-not--the army ofcreatures--"

He paused, taking a drink. 

"You--" he hesitated diffidently--"searched in Egypt with Nayland Smith, did you not?"

I nodded. 

"Contradict me if I am wrong, " he continued; "but my impression is thatyou were searching for the girl--the girl--Karamaneh, I think she wascalled?"

"Yes, " I replied shortly; "but we could find no trace--no trace. "

"You--er--were interested?"

"More than I knew, " I replied, "until I realized that I had--lost her. "

"I never met Karamaneh, but from your account, and from others, she wasquite unusually--"

"She was very beautiful, " I said, and stood up, for I was anxious toterminate that phase of the conversation. 

Eltham regarded me sympathetically; he knew something of my search withNayland Smith for the dark-eyed, Eastern girl who had brought romanceinto my drab life; he knew that I treasured my memories of her as Iloathed and abhorred those of the fiendish, brilliant Chinese doctor whohad been her master. 

Eltham began to pace up and down the rug, his pipe bubbling furiously;and something in the way he carried his head reminded me momentarily ofNayland Smith. Certainly, between this pink-faced clergyman, with hisdeceptively mild appearance, and the gaunt, bronzed, and steely-eyedBurmese commissioner, there was externally little in common; but it wassome little nervous trick in his carriage that conjured up through thesmoky haze one distant summer evening when Smith had paced that veryroom as Eltham paced it now, when before my startled eyes he had rung upthe curtain upon the savage drama in which, though I little suspected itthen, Fate had cast me for a leading role. 

I wondered if Eltham's thoughts ran parallel with mine. My own werecentered upon the unforgettable figure of the murderous Chinaman. Thesewords, exactly as Smith had used them, seemed once again to sound in myears: "Imagine a person tall, lean, and feline, high shouldered, with abrow like Shakespeare and a face like Satan, a close-shaven skull, andlong magnetic eyes of the true cat green. Invest him with all the cruelcunning of an entire Eastern race accumulated in one giant intellect, with all the resources of science, past and present, and you have amental picture of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the 'Yellow Peril' incarnate in oneman. "

This visit of Eltham's no doubt was responsible for my mood; for thissingular clergyman had played his part in the drama of two years ago. 

"I should like to see Smith again, " he said suddenly; "it seems a pitythat a man like that should be buried in Burma. Burma makes a mess ofthe best of men, Doctor. You said he was not married?"

"No, " I replied shortly, "and is never likely to be, now. "

"Ah, you hinted at something of the kind. "

"I know very little of it. Nayland Smith is not the kind of man to talkmuch. "

"Quite so--quite so! And, you know, Doctor, neither am I; but"--he wasgrowing painfully embarrassed--"it may be your due--I--er--I have acorrespondent, in the interior of China--"

"Well?" I said, watching him in sudden eagerness. 

"Well, I would not desire to raise--vain hopes--nor to occasion, shallI say, empty fears; but--er... No, Doctor!" He flushed like a girl--"Itwas wrong of me to open this conversation. Perhaps, when I knowmore--will you forget my words, for the time?"

The telephone bell rang. 

"Hullo!" cried Eltham--"hard luck, Doctor!"--but I could see that hewelcomed the interruption. "Why!" he added, "it is one o'clock!"

I went to the telephone. 

"Is that Dr. Petrie?" inquired a woman's voice. 

"Yes; who is speaking?"

"Mrs. Hewett has been taken more seriously ill. Could you come at once?"

"Certainly, " I replied, for Mrs. Hewett was not only a profitablepatient but an estimable lady--"I shall be with you in a quarter of anhour. "

I hung up the receiver. 

"Something urgent?" asked Eltham, emptying his pipe. 

"Sounds like it. You had better turn in. "

"I should much prefer to walk over with you, if it would not beintruding. Our conversation has ill prepared me for sleep. "

"Right!" I said; for I welcomed his company; and three minutes later wewere striding across the deserted common. 

A sort of mist floated amongst the trees, seeming in the moonlight likea veil draped from trunk to trunk, as in silence we passed the Moundpond, and struck out for the north side of the common. 

I suppose the presence of Eltham and the irritating recollection of hishalf-confidence were the responsible factors, but my mind persistentlydwelt upon the subject of Fu-Manchu and the atrocities which he hadcommitted during his sojourn in England. So actively was my imaginationat work that I felt again the menace which so long had hung over me; Ifelt as though that murderous yellow cloud still cast its shadow uponEngland. And I found myself longing for the company of Nayland Smith. I cannot state what was the nature of Eltham's reflections, but I canguess; for he was as silent as I. 

It was with a conscious effort that I shook myself out of this morbidlyreflective mood, on finding that we had crossed the common and were cometo the abode of my patient. 

"I shall take a little walk, " announced Eltham; "for I gather that youdon't expect to be detained long? I shall never be out of sight of thedoor, of course. "

"Very well, " I replied, and ran up the steps. 

There were no lights to be seen in any of the windows, whichcircumstance rather surprised me, as my patient occupied, or hadoccupied when last I had visited her, a first-floor bedroom in the frontof the house. My knocking and ringing produced no response for three orfour minutes; then, as I persisted, a scantily clothed and halfawake maid servant unbarred the door and stared at me stupidly in themoonlight. 

"Mrs. Hewett requires me?" I asked abruptly. 

The girl stared more stupidly than ever. 

"No, sir, " she said, "she don't, sir; she's fast asleep!"

"But some one 'phoned me!" I insisted, rather irritably, I fear. 

"Not from here, sir, " declared the now wide-eyed girl. "We haven't got atelephone, sir. "

For a few moments I stood there, staring as foolishly as she; thenabruptly I turned and descended the steps. At the gate I stood lookingup and down the road. The houses were all in darkness. What could be themeaning of the mysterious summons? I had made no mistake respecting thename of my patient; it had been twice repeated over the telephone; yetthat the call had not emanated from Mrs. Hewett's house was now palpablyevident. Days had been when I should have regarded the episode aspreluding some outrage, but to-night I felt more disposed to ascribe itto a silly practical joke. 

Eltham walked up briskly. 

"You're in demand to-night, Doctor, " he said. "A young person calledfor you almost directly you had left your house, and, learning where youwere gone, followed you. "

"Indeed!" I said, a trifle incredulously. "There are plenty of otherdoctors if the case is an urgent one. "

"She may have thought it would save time as you were actually up anddressed, " explained Eltham; "and the house is quite near to here, Iunderstand. "

I looked at him a little blankly. Was this another effort of the unknownjester?

"I have been fooled once, " I said. "That 'phone call was a hoax--"

"But I feel certain, " declared Eltham, earnestly, "that this is genuine!The poor girl was dreadfully agitated; her master has broken his leg andis lying helpless: number 280, Rectory Grove. "

"Where is the girl?" I asked, sharply. 

"She ran back directly she had given me her message. "

"Was she a servant?"

"I should imagine so: French, I think. But she was so wrapped up I hadlittle more than a glimpse of her. I am sorry to hear that some one hasplayed a silly joke on you, but believe me--" he was very earnest--"thisis no jest. The poor girl could scarcely speak for sobs. She mistook mefor you, of course. "

"Oh!" said I grimly, "well, I suppose I must go. Broken leg, yousaid?--and my surgical bag, splints and so forth, are at home!"

"My dear Petrie!" cried Eltham, in his enthusiastic way--"you no doubtcan do something to alleviate the poor man's suffering immediately. Iwill run back to your rooms for the bag and rejoin you at 280, RectoryGrove. "

"It's awfully good of you, Eltham--"

He held up his hand. 

"The call of suffering humanity, Petrie, is one which I may no morerefuse to hear than you. "

I made no further protest after that, for his point of view was evidentand his determination adamant, but told him where he would find thebag and once more set out across the moonbright common, he pursuing awesterly direction and I going east. 

Some three hundred yards I had gone, I suppose, and my brain had beenvery active the while, when something occurred to me which placed a newcomplexion upon this second summons. I thought of the falsity of thefirst, of the improbability of even the most hardened practical jokerpractising his wiles at one o'clock in the morning. I thought of ourrecent conversation; above all I thought of the girl who had deliveredthe message to Eltham, the girl whom he had described as a Frenchmaid--whose personal charm had so completely enlisted his sympathies. Now, to this train of thought came a new one, and, adding it, mysuspicion became almost a certainty. 

I remembered (as, knowing the district, I should have remembered before)that there was no number 280 in Rectory Grove. 

Pulling up sharply I stood looking about me. Not a living soul wasin sight; not even a policeman. Where the lamps marked the main pathsacross the common nothing moved; in the shadows about me nothingstirred. But something stirred within me--a warning voice which for longhad lain dormant. 

What was afoot?

A breeze caressed the leaves overhead, breaking the silence withmysterious whisperings. Some portentous truth was seeking for admittanceto my brain. I strove to reassure myself, but the sense of impendingevil and of mystery became heavier. At last I could combat my strangefears no longer. I turned and began to run toward the south side of thecommon--toward my rooms--and after Eltham. 

I had hoped to head him off, but came upon no sign of him. An all-nighttramcar passed at the moment that I reached the high road, and as I ranaround behind it I saw that my windows were lighted and that there was alight in the hall. 

My key was yet in the lock when my housekeeper opened the door. 

"There's a gentleman just come, Doctor, " she began--

I thrust past her and raced up the stairs into my study. 

Standing by the writing-table was a tall, thin man, his gaunt face brownas a coffee-berry and his steely gray eyes fixed upon me. My heart gavea great leap--and seemed to stand still. 

It was Nayland Smith!

"Smith, " I cried. "Smith, old man, by God, I'm glad to see you!"

He wrung my hand hard, looking at me with his searching eyes; but therewas little enough of gladness in his face. He was altogether grayer thanwhen last I had seen him--grayer and sterner. 

"Where is Eltham?" I asked. 

Smith started back as though I had struck him. 

"Eltham!" he whispered--"Eltham! is Eltham here?"

"I left him ten minutes ago on the common--"

Smith dashed his right fist into the palm of his left hand and his eyesgleamed almost wildly. 

"My God, Petrie!" he said, "am I fated always to come too late?"

My dreadful fears in that instant were confirmed. I seemed to feel mylegs totter beneath me. 

"Smith, you don't mean--"

"I do, Petrie!" His voice sounded very far away. "Fu-Manchu is here; andEltham, God help him... Is his first victim!"

CHAPTER II. ELTHAM VANISHES

Smith went racing down the stairs like a man possessed. Heavy with sucha foreboding of calamity as I had not known for two years, I followedhim--along the hall and out into the road. The very peace and beauty ofthe night in some way increased my mental agitation. The sky was lightedalmost tropically with such a blaze of stars as I could not recall tohave seen since, my futile search concluded, I had left Egypt. The gloryof the moonlight yellowed the lamps speckled across the expanse ofthe common. The night was as still as night can ever be in London. Thedimming pulse of a cab or car alone disturbed the stillness. 

With a quick glance to right and left, Smith ran across on to thecommon, and, leaving the door wide open behind me, I followed. The pathwhich Eltham had pursued terminated almost opposite to my house. One'sgaze might follow it, white and empty, for several hundred yards pastthe pond, and further, until it became overshadowed and was lost amid aclump of trees. 

I came up with Smith, and side by side we ran on, whilst pantingly, Itold my tale. 

"It was a trick to get you away from him!" cried Smith. "They meant nodoubt to make some attempt at your house, but as he came out with you, an alternative plan--"

Abreast of the pond, my companion slowed down, and finally stopped. 

"Where did you last see Eltham?" he asked rapidly. 

I took his arm, turning him slightly to the right, and pointed acrossthe moonbathed common. 

"You see that clump of bushes on the other side of the road?" I said. "There's a path to the left of it. I took that path and he took this. Weparted at the point where they meet--"

Smith walked right down to the edge of the water and peered about overthe surface. 

What he hoped to find there I could not imagine. Whatever it had been hewas disappointed, and he turned to me again, frowning perplexedly, andtugging at the lobe of his left ear, an old trick which reminded me ofgruesome things we had lived through in the past. 

"Come on, " he jerked. "It may be amongst the trees. "

From the tone of his voice I knew that he was tensed up nervously, andhis mood but added to the apprehension of my own. 

"What may be amongst the trees, Smith?" I asked. 

He walked on. 

"God knows, Petrie; but I fear--"

Behind us, along the highroad, a tramcar went rocking by, doubtlessbearing a few belated workers homeward. The stark incongruity of thething was appalling. How little those weary toilers, hemmed aboutwith the commonplace, suspected that almost within sight from the carwindows, in a place of prosy benches, iron railings, and unromantic, flickering lamps, two fellow men moved upon the border of a horror-land!

Beneath the trees a shadow carpet lay, its edges tropically sharp; andfully ten yards from the first of the group, we two, hatless both, andsharing a common dread, paused for a moment and listened. 

The car had stopped at the further extremity of the common, and now witha moan that grew to a shriek was rolling on its way again. We stoodand listened until silence reclaimed the night. Not a footstep could beheard. Then slowly we walked on. At the edge of the little coppice westopped again abruptly. 

Smith turned and thrust his pistol into my hand. A white ray of lightpierced the shadows; my companion carried an electric torch. But notrace of Eltham was discoverable. 

There had been a heavy shower of rain during the evening just beforesunset, and although the open paths were dry again, under the treesthe ground was still moist. Ten yards within the coppice we came upontracks--the tracks of one running, as the deep imprints of the toesindicated. 

Abruptly the tracks terminated; others, softer, joined them, two setsconverging from left and right. There was a confused patch, trailing offto the west; then this became indistinct, and was finally lost upon thehard ground outside the group. 

For perhaps a minute, or more, we ran about from tree to tree, and frombush to bush, searching like hounds for a scent, and fearful of what wemight find. We found nothing; and fully in the moonlight we stood facingone another. The night was profoundly still. 

Nayland Smith stepped back into the shadows, and began slowly to turnhis head from left to right, taking in the entire visible expanse of thecommon. Toward a point where the road bisected it he stared intently. Then, with a bound, he set off. 

"Come on, Petrie!" he cried. "There they are!"

Vaulting a railing he went away over a field like a madman. Recoveringfrom the shock of surprise, I followed him, but he was well ahead of me, and making for some vaguely seen object moving against the lights of theroadway. 

Another railing was vaulted, and the corner of a second, triangulargrass patch crossed at a hot sprint. We were twenty yards from the roadwhen the sound of a starting motor broke the silence. We gained thegraveled footpath only to see the taillight of the car dwindling to thenorth!

Smith leaned dizzily against a tree. 

"Eltham is in that car!" he gasped. "Just God! are we to stand here andsee him taken away to--"

He beat his fist upon the tree, in a sort of tragic despair. The nearestcab-rank was no great distance away, but, excluding the possibility ofno cab being there, it might, for all practical purposes, as well havebeen a mile off. 

The beat of the retreating motor was scarcely audible; the lightsmight but just be distinguished. Then, coming in an opposite direction, appeared the headlamp of another car, of a car that raced nearer andnearer to us, so that, within a few seconds of its first appearance, wefound ourselves bathed in the beam of its headlights. 

Smith bounded out into the road, and stood, a weird silhouette, withupraised arms, fully in its course!

The brakes were applied hurriedly. It was a big limousine, and itsdriver swerved perilously in avoiding Smith and nearly ran into me. But, the breathless moment past, the car was pulled up, head on to therailings; and a man in evening clothes was demanding excitedly what hadhappened. Smith, a hatless, disheveled figure, stepped up to the door. 

"My name is Nayland Smith, " he said rapidly--"Burmese Commissioner. " Hesnatched a letter from his pocket and thrust it into the hands of thebewildered man. "Read that. It is signed by another Commissioner--theCommissioner of Police. "

With amazement written all over him, the other obeyed. 

"You see, " continued my friend, tersely--"it is carte blanche. I wish tocommandeer your car, sir, on a matter of life and death!". 

The other returned the letter. 

"Allow me to offer it!" he said, descending. "My man will take yourorders. I can finish my journey by cab. I am--"

But Smith did not wait to learn whom he might be. 

"Quick!" he cried to the stupefied chauffeur--"You passed a car a minuteago--yonder. Can you overtake it?"

"I can try, sir, if I don't lose her track. "

Smith leaped in, pulling me after him. 

"Do it!" he snapped. "There are no speed limits for me. Thanks!Goodnight, sir!"

We were off! The car swung around and the chase commenced. 

One last glimpse I had of the man we had dispossessed, standing alone bythe roadside, and at ever increasing speed, we leaped away in the trackof Eltham's captors. 

Smith was too highly excited for ordinary conversation, but he threw outshort, staccato remarks. 

"I have followed Fu-Manchu from Hongkong, " he jerked. "Lost him at Suez. He got here a boat ahead of me. Eltham has been corresponding with somemandarin up-country. Knew that. Came straight to you. Only got in thisevening. He--Fu-Manchu--has been sent here to get Eltham. My God! andhe has him! He will question him! The interior of China--a seethingpot, Petrie! They had to stop the leakage of information. He is here forthat. "

The car pulled up with a jerk that pitched me out of my seat, and thechauffeur leaped to the road and ran ahead. Smith was out in a trice, asthe man, who had run up to a constable, came racing back. 

"Jump in, sir--jump in!" he cried, his eyes bright with the lust of thechase; "they are making for Battersea!"

And we were off again. 

Through the empty streets we roared on. A place of gasometers anddesolate waste lots slipped behind and we were in a narrow way wheregates of yards and a few lowly houses faced upon a prospect of highblank wall. 

"Thames on our right, " said Smith, peering ahead. "His rathole is by theriver as usual. Hi!"--he grabbed up the speaking-tube--"Stop! Stop!"

The limousine swung in to the narrow sidewalk, and pulled up close by ayard gate. I, too, had seen our quarry--a long, low bodied car, showingno inside lights. It had turned the next corner, where a street lampshone greenly, not a hundred yards ahead. 

Smith leaped out, and I followed him. 

"That must be a cul de sac, " he said, and turned to the eager-eyedchauffeur. "Run back to that last turning, " he ordered, "and wait there, out of sight. Bring the car up when you hear a police-whistle. "

The man looked disappointed, but did not question the order. As he beganto back away, Smith grasped me by the arm and drew me forward. 

"We must get to that corner, " he said, "and see where the car stands, without showing ourselves. "

CHAPTER III. THE WIRE JACKET

I suppose we were not more than a dozen paces from the lamp when weheard the thudding of the motor. The car was backing out!

It was a desperate moment, for it seemed that we could not fail to bediscovered. Nayland Smith began to look about him, feverishly, for ahiding-place, a quest in which I seconded with equal anxiety. And Fatewas kind to us--doubly kind as after events revealed. A wooden gatebroke the expanse of wall hard by upon the right, and, as the result ofsome recent accident, a ragged gap had been torn in the panels close tothe top. 

The chain of the padlock hung loosely; and in a second Smith was up, with his foot in this as in a stirrup. He threw his arm over the top anddrew himself upright. A second later he was astride the broken gate. 

"Up you come, Petrie!" he said, and reached down his hand to aid me. 

I got my foot into the loop of chain, grasped at a projection in thegatepost and found myself up. 

"There is a crossbar on this side to stand on, " said Smith. 

He climbed over and vanished in the darkness. I was still astride thebroken gate when the car turned the corner, slowly, for there was scantyroom; but I was standing upon the bar on the inside and had my headbelow the gap ere the driver could possibly have seen me. 

"Stay where you are until he passes, " hissed my companion, below. "Thereis a row of kegs under you. "

The sound of the motor passing outside grew loud--louder--then began todie away. I felt about with my left foot; discerned the top of a keg, and dropped, panting, beside Smith. 

"Phew!" I said--"that was a close thing! Smith--how do we know--"

"That we have followed the right car?" he interrupted. "Ask yourself thequestion: what would any ordinary man be doing motoring in a place likethis at two o'clock in the morning?"

"You are right, Smith, " I agreed. "Shall we get out again?"

"Not yet. I have an idea. Look yonder. "

He grasped my arm, turning me in the desired direction. 

Beyond a great expanse of unbroken darkness a ray of moonlight slantedinto the place wherein we stood, spilling its cold radiance upon rows ofkegs. 

"That's another door, " continued my friend--I now began dimly toperceive him beside me. "If my calculations are not entirely wrong, itopens on a wharf gate--"

A steam siren hooted dismally, apparently from quite close at hand. 

"I'm right!" snapped Smith. "That turning leads down to the gate. Comeon, Petrie!"

He directed the light of the electric torch upon a narrow path throughthe ranks of casks, and led the way to the further door. A good two feetof moonlight showed along the top. I heard Smith straining; then--

"These kegs are all loaded with grease!" he said, "and I want toreconnoiter over that door. "

"I am leaning on a crate which seems easy to move, " I reported. "Yes, it's empty. Lend a hand. "

We grasped the empty crate, and between us, set it up on a solidpedestal of casks. Then Smith mounted to this observation platform and Iscrambled up beside him, and looked down upon the lane outside. 

It terminated as Smith had foreseen at a wharf gate some six feet tothe right of our post. Piled up in the lane beneath us, against thewarehouse door, was a stack of empty casks. Beyond, over the way, was akind of ramshackle building that had possibly been a dwelling-house atsome time. Bills were stuck in the ground-floor window indicating thatthe three floors were to let as offices; so much was discernible in thatreflected moonlight. 

I could hear the tide, lapping upon the wharf, could feel the chill fromthe river and hear the vague noises which, night nor day, never ceaseupon the great commercial waterway. 

"Down!" whispered Smith. "Make no noise! I suspected it. They heard thecar following!"

I obeyed, clutching at him for support; for I was suddenly dizzy, and myheart was leaping wildly--furiously. 

"You saw her?" he whispered. 

Saw her! yes, I had seen her! And my poor dream-world was toppling aboutme, its cities, ashes and its fairness, dust. 

Peering from the window, her great eyes wondrous in the moonlight andher red lips parted, hair gleaming like burnished foam and her anxiousgaze set upon the corner of the lane--was Karamaneh... Karamaneh whomonce we had rescued from the house of this fiendish Chinese doctor;Karamaneh who had been our ally; in fruitless quest of whom, --when, toolate, I realized how empty my life was become--I had wasted what littleof the world's goods I possessed;--Karamaneh!

"Poor old Petrie, " murmured Smith--"I knew, but I hadn't the heart--Hehas her again--God knows by what chains he holds her. But she's onlya woman, old boy, and women are very much alike--very much alike fromCharing Cross to Pagoda Road. "

He rested his hand on my shoulder for a moment; I am ashamed to confessthat I was trembling; then, clenching my teeth with that mechanicalphysical effort which often accompanies a mental one, I swallowed thebitter draught of Nayland Smith's philosophy. He was raising himself, topeer, cautiously, over the top of the door. I did likewise. 

The window from which the girl had looked was nearly on a level with oureyes, and as I raised my head above the woodwork, I quite distinctlysaw her go out of the room. The door, as she opened it, admitted a dulllight, against which her figure showed silhouetted for a moment. Thenthe door was reclosed. 

"We must risk the other windows, " rapped Smith. 

Before I had grasped the nature of his plan he was over and had droppedalmost noiselessly upon the casks outside. Again I followed his lead. 

"You are not going to attempt anything, singlehanded--against him?" Iasked. 

"Petrie--Eltham is in that house. He has been brought here to be putto the question, in the medieval, and Chinese, sense! Is there time tosummon assistance?"

I shuddered. This had been in my mind, certainly, but so expressed itwas definitely horrible--revolting, yet stimulating. 

"You have the pistol, " added Smith--"follow closely, and quietly. "

He walked across the tops of the casks and leaped down, pointing to thatnearest to the closed door of the house. I helped him place it under theopen window. A second we set beside it, and, not without some noise, gota third on top. 

Smith mounted. 

His jaw muscles were very prominent and his eyes shone like steel; buthe was as cool as though he were about to enter a theater and not theden of the most stupendous genius who ever worked for evil. I wouldforgive any man who, knowing Dr. Fu-Manchu, feared him; I feared himmyself--feared him as one fears a scorpion; but when Nayland Smithhauled himself up on the wooden ledge above the door and swung thenceinto the darkened room, I followed and was in close upon his heels. ButI admired him, for he had every ampere of his self-possession in hand;my own case was different. 

He spoke close to my ear. 

"Is your hand steady? We may have to shoot. "

I thought of Karamaneh, of lovely dark-eyed Karamaneh whom thiswonderful, evil product of secret China had stolen from me--for so I nowadjudged it. 

"Rely upon me!" I said grimly. "I... "

The words ceased--frozen on my tongue. 

There are things that one seeks to forget, but it is my lot often toremember the sound which at that moment literally struck me rigid withhorror. Yet it was only a groan; but, merciful God! I pray that it maynever be my lot to listen to such a groan again. 

Smith drew a sibilant breath. 

"It's Eltham!" he whispered hoarsely--"they're torturing--"

"No, no!" screamed a woman's voice--a voice that thrilled me anew, butwith another emotion--

"Not that, not--"

I distinctly heard the sound of a blow. Followed a sort of vaguescuffling. A door somewhere at the back of the house opened--and shutagain. Some one was coming along the passage toward us!

"Stand back!" Smith's voice was low, but perfectly steady. "Leave it tome!"

Nearer came the footsteps and nearer. I could hear suppressed sobs. Thedoor opened, admitting again the faint light--and Karamaneh came in. Theplace was quite unfurnished, offering no possibility of hiding; but tohide was unnecessary. 

Her slim figure had not crossed the threshold ere Smith had his armabout the girl's waist and one hand clapped to her mouth. A stifled gaspshe uttered, and he lifted her into the room. 

I stepped forward and closed the door. A faint perfume stole to mynostrils--a vague, elusive breath of the East, reminiscent of strangedays that, now, seemed to belong to a remote past. Karamaneh! thatfaint, indefinable perfume was part of her dainty personality; it mayappear absurd--impossible--but many and many a time I had dreamt of it. 

"In my breast pocket, " rapped Smith; "the light. "

I bent over the girl as he held her. She was quite still, but I couldhave wished that I had had more certain mastery of myself. I took thetorch from Smith's pocket, and, mechanically, directed it upon thecaptive. 

She was dressed very plainly, wearing a simple blue skirt, and whiteblouse. It was easy to divine that it was she whom Eltham had mistakenfor a French maid. A brooch set with a ruby was pinned at the pointwhere the blouse opened--gleaming fierily and harshly against the softskin. Her face was pale and her eyes wide with fear. 

"There is some cord in my right-hand pocket, " said Smith; "I cameprovided. Tie her wrists. "

I obeyed him, silently. The girl offered no resistance, but I thinkI never essayed a less congenial task than that of binding her whitewrists. The jeweled fingers lay quite listlessly in my own. 

"Make a good job of it!" rapped Smith, significantly. 

A flush rose to my cheeks, for I knew well enough what he meant. 

"She is fastened, " I said, and I turned the ray of the torch upon heragain. 

Smith removed his hand from her mouth but did not relax his grip of her. She looked up at me with eyes in which I could have sworn there was norecognition. But a flush momentarily swept over her face, and left itpale again. 

"We shall have to--gag her--"

"Smith, I can't do it!"

The girl's eyes filled with tears and she looked up at my companionpitifully. 

"Please don't be cruel to me, " she whispered, with that soft accentwhich always played havoc with my composure. "Every one--every one-iscruel to me. I will promise--indeed I will swear, to be quiet. Oh, believe me, if you can save him I will do nothing to hinder you. " Herbeautiful head drooped. "Have some pity for me as well. "

"Karamaneh" I said. "We would have believed you once. We cannot, now. "

She started violently. 

"You know my name!" Her voice was barely audible. "Yet I have never seenyou in my life--"

"See if the door locks, " interrupted Smith harshly. 

Dazed by the apparent sincerity in the voice of our lovelycaptive--vacant from wonder of it all--I opened the door, felt for, andfound, a key. 

We left Karamaneh crouching against the wall; her great eyes were turnedtowards me fascinatedly. Smith locked the door with much care. We begana tip-toed progress along the dimly lighted passage. 

From beneath a door on the left, and near the end, a brighter lightshone. Beyond that again was another door. A voice was speaking in thelighted room; yet I could have sworn that Karamaneh had come, not fromthere but from the room beyond--from the far end of the passage. 

But the voice!--who, having once heard it, could ever mistake thatsingular voice, alternately guttural and sibilant!

Dr. Fu-Manchu was speaking!

"I have asked you, " came with ever-increasing clearness (Smith had begunto turn the knob), "to reveal to me the name of your correspondent inNan-Yang. I have suggested that he may be the Mandarin Yen-Sun-Yat, butyou have declined to confirm me. Yet I know" (Smith had the door opena good three inches and was peering in) "that some official, some highofficial, is a traitor. Am I to resort again to the question to learnhis name?"

Ice seemed to enter my veins at the unseen inquisitor's intonation ofthe words "the question. " This was the Twentieth Century, yet there, inthat damnable room... 

Smith threw the door open. 

Through a sort of haze, born mostly of horror, but not entirely, I sawEltham, stripped to the waist and tied, with his arms upstretched, to arafter in the ancient ceiling. A Chinaman who wore a slop-shop blue suitand who held an open knife in his hand, stood beside him. Eltham wasghastly white. The appearance of his chest puzzled me momentarily, thenI realized that a sort of tourniquet of wire-netting was screwed sotightly about him that the flesh swelled out in knobs through the mesh. There was blood--

"God in heaven!" screamed Smith frenziedly--"they have the wire-jacketon him! Shoot down that damned Chinaman, Petrie! Shoot! Shoot!"

Lithely as a cat the man with the knife leaped around--but I raised theBrowning, and deliberately--with a cool deliberation that came to mesuddenly--shot him through the head. I saw his oblique eyes turn up tothe whites; I saw the mark squarely between his brows; and with no wordnor cry he sank to his knees and toppled forward with one yellow handbeneath him and one outstretched, clutching--clutching--convulsively. His pigtail came unfastened and began to uncoil, slowly, like a snake. 

I handed the pistol to Smith; I was perfectly cool, now; and I leapedforward, took up the bloody knife from the floor and cut Eltham'slashings. He sank into my arms. 

"Praise God, " he murmured, weakly. "He is more merciful to me thanperhaps I deserve. Unscrew... The jacket, Petrie... I think ... I wasvery near to.... Weakening. Praise the good God, Who... Gave me... Fortitude... "

I got the screw of the accursed thing loosened, but the act of removingthe jacket was too agonizing for Eltham--man of iron though he was. Ilaid him swooning on the floor. 

"Where is Fu-Manchu?"

Nayland Smith, from just within the door, threw out the query in a toneof stark amaze. I stood up--I could do nothing more for the poor victimat the moment--and looked about me. The room was innocent of furniture, save for heaps of rubbish on the floor, and a tin oil-lamp hung, onthe wall. The dead Chinaman lay close beside Smith. There was no seconddoor, the one window was barred, and from this room we had heard thevoice, the unmistakable, unforgettable voice, of Dr. Fu-Manchu. 

But Dr. Fu-Manchu was not there!

Neither of us could accept the fact for a moment; we stood there, looking from the dead man to the tortured man who only swooned, in astate of helpless incredulity. 

Then the explanation flashed upon us both, simultaneously, and with acry of baffled rage Smith leaped along the passage to the second door. It was wide open. I stood at his elbow when he swept its emptiness withthe ray of his pocket-lamp. 

There was a speaking-tube fixed between the two rooms!

Smith literally ground his teeth. 

"Yet, Petrie, " he said, "we have learnt something. Fu-Manchu hadevidently promised Eltham his life if he would divulge the name ofhis correspondent. He meant to keep his word; it is a sidelight on hischaracter. "

"How so?"

"Eltham has never seen Dr. Fu-Manchu, but Eltham knows certain parts ofChina better than you know the Strand. Probably, if he saw Fu-Manchu, hewould recognize him for who he really is, and this, it seems, the Doctoris anxious to avoid. "

We ran back to where we had left Karamaneh. 

The room was empty!

"Defeated, Petrie!" said Smith, bitterly. "The Yellow Devil is loosed onLondon again!"

He leaned from the window and the skirl of a police whistle split thestillness of the night. 

CHAPTER IV. THE CRY OF A NIGHTHAWK

Such were the episodes that marked the coming of Dr. Fu-Manchu toLondon, that awakened fears long dormant and reopened old wounds--nay, poured poison into them. I strove desperately, by close attention tomy professional duties, to banish the very memory of Karamaneh from mymind; desperately, but how vainly! Peace was for me no more, joy wasgone from the world, and only mockery remained as my portion. 

Poor Eltham we had placed in a nursing establishment, where hisindescribable hurts could be properly tended: and his uncomplainingfortitude not infrequently made me thoroughly ashamed of myself. Needless to say, Smith had made such other arrangements as werenecessary to safeguard the injured man, and these proved so successfulthat the malignant being whose plans they thwarted abandoned his designsupon the heroic clergyman and directed his attention elsewhere, as Imust now proceed to relate. 

Dusk always brought with it a cloud of apprehensions, for darkness mustever be the ally of crime; and it was one night, long after the clockshad struck the mystic hour "when churchyards yawn, " that the hand ofDr. Fu-Manchu again stretched out to grasp a victim. I was dismissing achance patient. 

"Good night, Dr. Petrie, " he said. 

"Good night, Mr. Forsyth, " I replied; and, having conducted my latevisitor to the door, I closed and bolted it, switched off the light andwent upstairs. 

My patient was chief officer of one of the P. And O. Boats. He had cuthis hand rather badly on the homeward run, and signs of poisoninghaving developed, had called to have the wound treated, apologizing fortroubling me at so late an hour, but explaining that he had only justcome from the docks. The hall clock announced the hour of one as Iascended the stairs. I found myself wondering what there was in Mr. Forsyth's appearance which excited some vague and elusive memory. Comingto the top floor, I opened the door of a front bedroom and was surprisedto find the interior in darkness. 

"Smith!" I called. 

"Come here and watch!" was the terse response. Nayland Smith was sittingin the dark at the open window and peering out across the common. Evenas I saw him, a dim silhouette, I could detect that tensity in hisattitude which told of high-strung nerves. 

I joined him. 

"What is it?" I said, curiously. 

"I don't know. Watch that clump of elms. "

His masterful voice had the dry tone in it betokening excitement. Ileaned on the ledge beside him and looked out. The blaze of stars almostcompensated for the absence of the moon and the night had a quality ofstillness that made for awe. This was a tropical summer, and the common, with its dancing lights dotted irregularly about it, had an unfamiliarlook to-night. The clump of nine elms showed as a dense and irregularmass, lacking detail. 

Such moods as that which now claimed my friend are magnetic. I had nothought of the night's beauty, for it only served to remind me thatsomewhere amid London's millions was lurking an uncanny being, whoselife was a mystery, whose very existence was a scientific miracle. 

"Where's your patient?" rapped Smith. 

His abrupt query diverted my thoughts into a new channel. No footstepdisturbed the silence of the highroad; where was my patient?

I craned from the window. Smith grabbed my arm. 

"Don't lean out, " he said. 

I drew back, glancing at him surprisedly. 

"For Heaven's sake, why not?"

"I'll tell you presently, Petrie. Did you see him?"

"I did, and I can't make out what he is doing. He seems to have remainedstanding at the gate for some reason. "

"He has seen it!" snapped Smith. "Watch those elms. "

His hand remained upon my arm, gripping it nervously. Shall I say thatI was surprised? I can say it with truth. But I shall add that I wasthrilled, eerily; for this subdued excitement and alert watching ofSmith could only mean one thing:

Fu-Manchu!

And that was enough to set me watching as keenly as he; to set melistening; not only for sounds outside the house but for sounds within. Doubts, suspicions, dreads, heaped themselves up in my mind. Why wasForsyth standing there at the gate? I had never seen him before, tomy knowledge, yet there was something oddly reminiscent about the man. Could it be that his visit formed part of a plot? Yet his wound had beengenuine enough. Thus my mind worked, feverishly; such was the effect ofan unspoken thought--Fu-Manchu. 

Nayland Smith's grip tightened on my arm. 

"There it is again, Petrie!" he whispered. 

"Look, look!"

His words were wholly unnecessary. I, too, had seen it; a wonderful anduncanny sight. Out of the darkness under the elms, low down upon theground, grew a vaporous blue light. It flared up, elfinish, thenbegan to ascend. Like an igneous phantom, a witch flame, it rose, high--higher--higher, to what I adjudged to be some twelve feet or morefrom the ground. Then, high in the air, it died away again as it hadcome!

"For God's sake, Smith, what was it?"

"Don't ask me, Petrie. I have seen it twice. We--"

He paused. Rapid footsteps sounded below. Over Smith's shoulder I sawForsyth cross the road, climb the low rail, and set out across thecommon. 

Smith sprang impetuously to his feet. 

"We must stop him!" he said hoarsely; then, clapping a hand to my mouthas I was about to call out--"Not a sound, Petrie!"

He ran out of the room and went blundering downstairs in the dark, crying:

"Out through the garden--the side entrance!"

I overtook him as he threw wide the door of my dispensing room. Throughit he ran and opened the door at the other end. I followed himout, closing it behind me. The smell from some tobacco plants in aneighboring flower-bed was faintly perceptible; no breeze stirred; andin the great silence I could hear Smith, in front of me, tugging at thebolt of the gate. 

Then he had it open, and I stepped out, close on his heels, and left thedoor ajar. 

"We must not appear to have come from your house, " explained Smithrapidly. "I will go along the highroad and cross to the common a hundredyards up, where there is a pathway, as though homeward bound to thenorth side. Give me half a minute's start, then you proceed in anopposite direction and cross from the corner of the next road. Directlyyou are out of the light of the street lamps, get over the rails and runfor the elms!"

He thrust a pistol into my hand and was off. 

While he had been with me, speaking in that incisive, impetuous way ofhis, with his dark face close to mine, and his eyes gleaming like steel, I had been at one with him in his feverish mood, but now, when I stoodalone, in that staid and respectable byway, holding a loaded pistol inmy hand, the whole thing became utterly unreal. 

It was in an odd frame of mind that I walked to the next corner, asdirected; for I was thinking, not of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the great and evilman who dreamed of Europe and America under Chinese rule, not of NaylandSmith, who alone stood between the Chinaman and the realization of hismonstrous schemes, not even of Karamaneh the slave girl, whose gloriousbeauty was a weapon of might in Fu-Manchu's hand, but of what impressionI must have made upon a patient had I encountered one then. 

Such were my ideas up to the moment that I crossed to the common andvaulted into the field on my right. As I began to run toward the elms Ifound myself wondering what it was all about, and for what we werecome. Fifty yards west of the trees it occurred to me that if Smith hadcounted on cutting Forsyth off we were too late, for it appeared to methat he must already be in the coppice. 

I was right. Twenty paces more I ran, and ahead of me, from the elms, came a sound. Clearly it came through the still air--the eerie hoot of anighthawk. I could not recall ever to have heard the cry of that bird onthe common before, but oddly enough I attached little significance to ituntil, in the ensuing instant, a most dreadful scream--a scream in whichfear, and loathing, and anger were hideously blended--thrilled me withhorror. 

After that I have no recollection of anything until I found myselfstanding by the southernmost elm. 

"Smith!" I cried breathlessly. "Smith! my God! where are you?"

As if in answer to my cry came an indescribable sound, a mingled sobbingand choking. Out from the shadows staggered a ghastly figure--that of aman whose face appeared to be streaked. His eyes glared at me madly andhe mowed the air with his hands like one blind and insane with fear. 

I started back; words died upon my tongue. The figure reeled and the manfell babbling and sobbing at my very feet. 

Inert I stood, looking down at him. He writhed a moment--and was still. The silence again became perfect. Then, from somewhere beyond the elms, Nayland Smith appeared. I did not move. Even when he stood beside me, Imerely stared at him fatuously. 

"I let him walk to his death, Petrie, " I heard dimly. "God forgiveme--God forgive me!"

The words aroused me. 

"Smith"--my voice came as a whisper--"for one awful moment I thought--"

"So did some one else, " he rapped. "Our poor sailor has met the enddesigned for me, Petrie!"

At that I realized two things: I knew why Forsyth's face had struck meas being familiar in some puzzling way, and I knew why Forsyth nowlay dead upon the grass. Save that he was a fair man and wore a slightmustache, he was, in features and build, the double of Nayland Smith!

CHAPTER V. THE NET

We raised the poor victim and turned him over on his back. I droppedupon my knees, and with unsteady fingers began to strike a match. Aslight breeze was arising and sighing gently through the elms, but, screened by my hands, the flame of the match took life. It illuminatedwanly the sun-baked face of Nayland Smith, his eyes gleaming withunnatural brightness. I bent forward, and the dying light of the matchtouched that other face. 

"Oh, God!" whispered Smith. 

A faint puff of wind extinguished the match. 

In all my surgical experience I had never met with anything quite sohorrible. Forsyth's livid face was streaked with tiny streams of blood, which proceeded from a series of irregular wounds. One group of theseclustered upon his left temple, another beneath his right eye, andothers extended from the chin down to the throat. They were black, almost like tattoo marks, and the entire injured surface was bloatedindescribably. His fists were clenched; he was quite rigid. 

Smith's piercing eyes were set upon me eloquently as I knelt on the pathand made my examination--an examination which that first glimpse whenForsyth came staggering out from the trees had rendered useless--a merematter of form. 

"He's quite dead, Smith, " I said huskily. "It's--unnatural--it--"

Smith began beating his fist into his left palm and taking little, short, nervous strides up and down beside the dead man. I could hear acar humming along the highroad, but I remained there on my knees staringdully at the disfigured bloody face which but a matter of minutessince had been that of a clean looking British seaman. I found myselfcontrasting his neat, squarely trimmed mustache with the bloated faceabove it, and counting the little drops of blood which trembled uponits edge. There were footsteps approaching. I stood up. The footstepsquickened; and I turned as a constable ran up. 

"What's this?" he demanded gruffly, and stood with his fists clenched, looking from Smith to me and down at that which lay between us. Then hishand flew to his breast; there was a silvern gleam and--

"Drop that whistle!" snapped Smith--and struck it from the man's hand. "Where's your lantern? Don't ask questions!"

The constable started back and was evidently debating upon his chanceswith the two of us, when my friend pulled a letter from his pocket andthrust it under the man's nose. 

"Read that!" he directed harshly, "and then listen to my orders. "

There was something in his voice which changed the officer's opinion ofthe situation. He directed the light of his lantern upon the open letterand seemed to be stricken with wonder. 

"If you have any doubts, " continued Smith--"you may not be familiar withthe Commissioner's signature--you have only to ring up Scotland Yardfrom Dr. Petrie's house, to which we shall now return, to dispersethem. " He pointed to Forsyth. "Help us to carry him there. We must notbe seen; this must be hushed up. You understand? It must not get intothe press--"

The man saluted respectfully; and the three of us addressed ourselvesto the mournful task. By slow stages we bore the dead man to the edgeof the common, carried him across the road and into my house, withoutexciting attention even on the part of those vagrants who nightly sleptout in the neighborhood. 

We laid our burden upon the surgery table. 

"You will want to make an examination, Petrie, " said Smith in hisdecisive way, "and the officer here might 'phone for the ambulance. Ihave some investigations to make also. I must have the pocket lamp. "

He raced upstairs to his room, and an instant later came running downagain. The front door banged. 

"The telephone is in the hall, " I said to the constable. 

"Thank you, sir. "

He went out of the surgery as I switched on the lamp over the table andbegan to examine the marks upon Forsyth's skin. These, as I have said, were in groups and nearly all in the form of elongated punctures; afairly deep incision with a pear-shaped and superficial scratch beneathit. One of the tiny wounds had penetrated the right eye. 

The symptoms, or those which I had been enabled to observe as Forsythhad first staggered into view from among the elms, were most puzzling. Clearly enough, the muscles of articulation and the respiratory muscleshad been affected; and now the livid face, dotted over with tiny wounds(they were also on the throat), set me mentally groping for a clue tothe manner of his death. 

No clue presented itself; and my detailed examination of the bodyavailed me nothing. The gray herald of dawn was come when the policearrived with the ambulance and took Forsyth away. 

I was just taking my cap from the rack when Nayland Smith returned. 

"Smith!" I cried--"have you found anything?"

He stood there in the gray light of the hallway, tugging at the lobe ofhis left ear, an old trick of his. 

The bronzed face looked very gaunt, I thought, and his eyes were brightwith that febrile glitter which once I had disliked, but which I hadlearned from experience were due to tremendous nervous excitement. At such times he could act with icy coolness and his mental facultiesseemed temporarily to acquire an abnormal keenness. He made no directreply; but--

"Have you any milk?" he jerked abruptly. 

So wholly unexpected was the question, that for a moment I failed tograsp it. Then--

"Milk!" I began. 

"Exactly, Petrie! If you can find me some milk, I shall be obliged. "

I turned to descend to the kitchen, when--

"The remains of the turbot from dinner, Petrie, would also be welcome, and I think I should like a trowel. "

I stopped at the stairhead and faced him. 

"I cannot suppose that you are joking, Smith, " I said, "but--"

He laughed dryly. 

"Forgive me, old man, " he replied. "I was so preoccupied with my owntrain of thought that it never occurred to me how absurd my request musthave sounded. I will explain my singular tastes later; at the moment, hustle is the watchword. "

Evidently he was in earnest, and I ran downstairs accordingly, returningwith a garden trowel, a plate of cold fish and a glass of milk. 

"Thanks, Petrie, " said Smith--"If you would put the milk in a jug--"

I was past wondering, so I simply went and fetched a jug, into which hepoured the milk. Then, with the trowel in his pocket, the plate of coldturbot in one hand and the milk jug in the other, he made for the door. He had it open when another idea evidently occurred to him. 

"I'll trouble you for the pistol, Petrie. "

I handed him the pistol without a word. 

"Don't assume that I want to mystify you, " he added, "but the presenceof any one else might jeopardize my plan. I don't expect to be long. "

The cold light of dawn flooded the hallway momentarily; then the doorclosed again and I went upstairs to my study, watching Nayland Smith ashe strode across the common in the early morning mist. He was making forthe Nine Elms, but I lost sight of him before he reached them. 

I sat there for some time, watching for the first glow of sunrise. Apoliceman tramped past the house, and, a while later, a belated revelerin evening clothes. That sense of unreality assailed me again. Out therein the gray mists a man who was vested with powers which rendered him alaw unto himself, who had the British Government behind him in all thathe might choose to do, who had been summoned from Rangoon to London onsingular and dangerous business, was employing himself with a plate ofcold turbot, a jug of milk, and a trowel!

Away to the right, and just barely visible, a tramcar stopped by thecommon; then proceeded on its way, coming in a westerly direction. Itslights twinkled yellowly through the grayness, but I was less concernedwith the approaching car than with the solitary traveler who haddescended from it. 

As the car went rocking by below me, I strained my eyes in an endeavormore clearly to discern the figure, which, leaving the highroad, hadstruck out across the common. It was that of a woman, who seeminglycarried a bulky bag or parcel. 

One must be a gross materialist to doubt that there are latent powers inman which man, in modern times, neglects, or knows not how to develop. Ibecame suddenly conscious of a burning curiosity respecting this lonelytraveler who traveled at an hour so strange. With no definite plan inmind, I went downstairs, took a cap from the rack, and walked brisklyout of the house and across the common in a direction which I thoughtwould enable me to head off the woman. 

I had slightly miscalculated the distance, as Fate would have it, andwith a patch of gorse effectually screening my approach, I came uponher, kneeling on the damp grass and unfastening the bundle which hadattracted my attention. I stopped and watched her. 

She was dressed in bedraggled fashion in rusty black, wore a commonblack straw hat and a thick veil; but it seemed to me that the dexteroushands at work untying the bundle were slim and white; and I perceived apair of hideous cotton gloves lying on the turf beside her. As she threwopen the wrappings and lifted out something that looked like asmall shrimping net, I stepped around the bush, crossed silently theintervening patch of grass, and stood beside her. 

A faint breath of perfume reached me--of a perfume which, like thesecret incense of Ancient Egypt, seemed to assail my soul. The glamourof the Orient was in that subtle essence; and I only knew one woman whoused it. I bent over the kneeling figure. 

"Good morning, " I said; "can I assist you in any way?"

She came to her feet like a startled deer, and flung away from me withthe lithe movement of some Eastern dancing girl. 

Now came the sun, and its heralding rays struck sparks from thejewels upon the white fingers of this woman who wore the garments ofa mendicant. My heart gave a great leap. It was with difficulty that Icontrolled my voice. 

"There is no cause for alarm, " I added. 

She stood watching me; even through the coarse veil I could see how hereyes glittered. I stooped and picked up the net. 

"Oh!" The whispered word was scarcely audible, but it was enough; Idoubted no longer. 

"This is a net for bird snaring, " I said. "What strange bird are youseeking--Karamaneh?"

With a passionate gesture Karamaneh snatched off the veil, and withit the ugly black hat. The cloud of wonderful, intractable hair camerumpling about her face, and her glorious eyes blazed out upon me. Howbeautiful they were, with the dark beauty of an Egyptian night; howoften had they looked into mine in dreams!

To labor against a ceaseless yearning for a woman whom one knows, uponevidence that none but a fool might reject, to be worthless--evil; isthere any torture to which the soul of man is subject, more pitiless?Yet this was my lot, for what past sins assigned to me I was unable toconjecture; and this was the woman, this lovely slave of a monster, thiscreature of Dr. Fu-Manchu. 

"I suppose you will declare that you do not know me!" I said harshly. 

Her lips trembled, but she made no reply. 

"It is very convenient to forget, sometimes, " I ran on bitterly, thenchecked myself; for I knew that my words were prompted by a fecklessdesire to hear her defense, by a fool's hope that it might be anacceptable one. 

I looked again at the net contrivance in my hand; it had a strong springfitted to it and a line attached. Quite obviously it was intended forsnaring. 

"What were you about to do?" I demanded sharply--but in my heart, poor fool that I was, I found admiration for the exquisite arch ofKaramaneh's lips, and reproach because they were so tremulous. 

She spoke then. 

"Dr. Petrie--"

"Well?"

"You seem to be--angry with me, not so much because of what I do, asbecause I do not remember you. Yet--"

"Kindly do not revert to the matter, " I interrupted. "You have chosen, very conveniently, to forget that once we were friends. Please yourself. But answer my question. "

She clasped her hands with a sort of wild abandon. 

"Why do you treat me so!" she cried; she had the most fascinating accentimaginable. "Throw me into prison, kill me if you like, for what I havedone!" She stamped her foot. "For what I have done! But do not tortureme, try to drive me mad with your reproaches--that I forget you! I tellyou--again I tell you--that until you came one night, last week, torescue some one from--" There was the old trick of hesitating before thename of Fu-Manchu--"from him, I had never, never seen you!"

The dark eyes looked into mine, afire with a positive hunger forbelief--or so I was sorely tempted to suppose. But the facts wereagainst her. 

"Such a declaration is worthless, " I said, as coldly as I could. "Youare a traitress; you betray those who are mad enough to trust you--"

"I am no traitress!" she blazed at me; her eyes were magnificent. 

"This is mere nonsense. You think that it will pay you better to serveFu-Manchu than to remain true to your friends. Your 'slavery'--for Itake it you are posing as a slave again--is evidently not very harsh. You serve Fu-Manchu, lure men to their destruction, and in return heloads you with jewels, lavishes gifts--"

"Ah! so!"

She sprang forward, raising flaming eyes to mine; her lips were slightlyparted. With that wild abandon which betrayed the desert blood in herveins, she wrenched open the neck of her bodice and slipped a softshoulder free of the garment. She twisted around, so that the white skinwas but inches removed from me. 

"These are some of the gifts that he lavishes upon me!"

I clenched my teeth. Insane thoughts flooded my mind. For that creamyskin was red with the marks of the lash!

She turned, quickly rearranging her dress, and watching me the while. Icould not trust myself to speak for a moment, then:

"If I am a stranger to you, as you claim, why do you give me yourconfidence?" I asked. 

"I have known you long enough to trust you!" she said simply, and turnedher head aside. 

"Then why do you serve this inhuman monster?"

She snapped her fingers oddly, and looked up at me from under herlashes. "Why do you question me if you think that everything I say is alie?"

It was a lesson in logic--from a woman! I changed the subject. 

"Tell me what you came here to do, " I demanded. 

She pointed to the net in my hands. 

"To catch birds; you have said so yourself. "

"What bird?"

She shrugged her shoulders. 

And now a memory was born within my brain; it was that of the cry ofthe nighthawk which had harbingered the death of Forsyth! The net wasa large and strong one; could it be that some horrible fowl of theair--some creature unknown to Western naturalists--had been releasedupon the common last night? I thought of the marks upon Forsyth's faceand throat; I thought of the profound knowledge of obscure and dreadfulthings possessed by the Chinaman. 

The wrapping, in which the net had been, lay at my feet. I stooped andtook out from it a wicker basket. Karamaneh stood watching me and bitingher lip, but she made no move to check me. I opened the basket. Itcontained a large phial, the contents of which possessed a pungent andpeculiar smell. 

I was utterly mystified. 

"You will have to accompany me to my house, " I said sternly. 

Karamaneh upturned her great eyes to mine. They were wide with fear. Shewas on the point of speaking when I extended my hand to grasp her. Atthat, the look of fear was gone and one of rebellion held its place. EreI had time to realize her purpose, she flung back from me with that wildgrace which I had met with in no other woman, turned and ran!

Fatuously, net and basket in hand, I stood looking after her. The ideaof pursuit came to me certainly; but I doubted if I could have outrunher. For Karamaneh ran, not like a girl used to town or even countrylife, but with the lightness and swiftness of a gazelle; ran like thedaughter of the desert that she was. 

Some two hundred yards she went, stopped, and looked back. It would seemthat the sheer joy of physical effort had aroused the devil in her, thedevil that must lie latent in every woman with eyes like the eyes ofKaramaneh. 

In the ever brightening sunlight I could see the lithe figure swaying;no rags imaginable could mask its beauty. I could see the red lipsand gleaming teeth. Then--and it was music good to hear, despite itstaunt--she laughed defiantly, turned, and ran again!

I resigned myself to defeat; I blush to add, gladly! Some evidences ofa world awakening were perceptible about me now. Feathered choirs hailedthe new day joyously. Carrying the mysterious contrivance which I hadcaptured from the enemy, I set out in the direction of my house, my mindvery busy with conjectures respecting the link between this bird snareand the cry like that of a nighthawk which we had heard at the moment ofForsyth's death. 

The path that I had chosen led me around the border of the Mound Pond--asmall pool having an islet in the center. Lying at the margin of thepond I was amazed to see the plate and jug which Nayland Smith hadborrowed recently!

Dropping my burden, I walked down to the edge of the water. I was filledwith a sudden apprehension. Then, as I bent to pick up the now emptyjug, came a hail:

"All right, Petrie! Shall join you in a moment!"

I started up, looked to right and left; but, although the voice had beenthat of Nayland Smith, no sign could I discern of his presence!

"Smith!" I cried--"Smith!"

"Coming!"

Seriously doubting my senses, I looked in the direction from which thevoice had seemed to proceed--and there was Nayland Smith. 

He stood on the islet in the center of the pond, and, as I perceivedhim, he walked down into the shallow water and waded across to me!

"Good heavens!" I began--

One of his rare laughs interrupted me. 

"You must think me mad this morning, Petrie!" he said. "But I have madeseveral discoveries. Do you know what that islet in the pond really is?"

"Merely an islet, I suppose--"

"Nothing of the kind; it is a burial mound, Petrie! It marks the site ofone of the Plague Pits where victims were buried during the GreatPlague of London. You will observe that, although you have seen it everymorning for some years, it remains for a British Commissioner residentin Burma to acquaint you with its history! Hullo!"--the laughter wasgone from his eyes, and they were steely hard again--"what the blazeshave we here!"

He picked up the net. "What! a bird trap!"

"Exactly!" I said. 

Smith turned his searching gaze upon me. "Where did you find it, Petrie?"

"I did not exactly find it, " I replied; and I related to him thecircumstances of my meeting with Karamaneh. 

He directed that cold stare upon me throughout the narrative, and when, with some embarrassment, I had told him of the girl's escape--

"Petrie, " he said succinctly, "you are an imbecile!"

I flushed with anger, for not even from Nayland Smith, whom I esteemedabove all other men, could I accept such words uttered as he had utteredthem. We glared at one another. 

"Karamaneh, " he continued coldly, "is a beautiful toy, I grant you; butso is a cobra. Neither is suitable for playful purposes. "

"Smith!" I cried hotly--"drop that! Adopt another tone or I cannotlisten to you!"

"You must listen, " he said, squaring his lean jaw truculently. "You areplaying, not only with a pretty girl who is the favorite of a ChineseNero, but with my life! And I object, Petrie, on purely personalgrounds!"

I felt my anger oozing from me; for this was strictly just. I hadnothing to say, and Smith continued:

"You know that she is utterly false, yet a glance or two from those darkeyes of hers can make a fool of you! A woman made a fool of me, once;but I learned my lesson; you have failed to learn yours. If you aredetermined to go to pieces on the rock that broke up Adam, do so! Butdon't involve me in the wreck, Petrie--for that might mean a yellowemperor of the world, and you know it!"

"Your words are unnecessarily brutal, Smith, " I said, feeling verycrestfallen, "but there--perhaps I fully deserve them all. "

"You do!" he assured me, but he relaxed immediately. "A murderousattempt is made upon my life, resulting in the death of a perfectlyinnocent man in no way concerned. Along you come and let an accomplice, perhaps a participant, escape, merely, because she has a red mouth, orblack lashes, or whatever it is that fascinates you so hopelessly!"

He opened the wicker basket, sniffing at the contents. 

"Ah!" he snapped, "do you recognize this odor?"

"Certainly. "

"Then you have some idea respecting Karamaneh's quarry?"

"Nothing of the kind!"

Smith shrugged his shoulders. 

"Come along, Petrie, " he said, linking his arm in mine. 

We proceeded. Many questions there were that I wanted to put to him, butone above all. 

"Smith, " I said, "what, in Heaven's name, were you doing on the mound?Digging something up?"

"No, " he replied, smiling dryly; "burying something!"

CHAPTER VI. UNDER THE ELMS

Dusk found Nayland Smith and me at the top bedroom window. We knew, nowthat poor Forsyth's body had been properly examined, that he had diedfrom poisoning. Smith, declaring that I did not deserve his confidence, had refused to confide in me his theory of the origin of the peculiarmarks upon the body. 

"On the soft ground under the trees, " he said, "I found his tracks rightup to the point where something happened. There were no other freshtracks for several yards around. He was attacked as he stood close tothe trunk of one of the elms. Six or seven feet away I found some othertracks, very much like this. "

He marked a series of dots upon the blotting pad at his elbow. 

"Claws!" I cried. "That eerie call! like the call of a nighthawk--is itsome unknown species of--flying thing?"

"We shall see, shortly; possibly to-night, " was his reply. "Since, probably owing to the absence of any moon, a mistake was made, " his jawhardened at the thoughts of poor Forsyth--"another attempt along thesame lines will almost certainly follow--you know Fu-Manchu's system?"

So in the darkness, expectant, we sat watching the group of nine elms. To-night the moon was come, raising her Aladdin's lamp up to the starworld and summoning magic shadows into being. By midnight the highroadshowed deserted, the common was a place of mystery; and save for theperiodical passage of an electric car, in blazing modernity, this was afit enough stage for an eerie drama. 

No notice of the tragedy had appeared in print; Nayland Smith was vestedwith powers to silence the press. No detectives, no special constables, were posted. My friend was of opinion that the publicity which hadbeen given to the deeds of Dr. Fu-Manchu in the past, together withthe sometimes clumsy co-operation of the police, had contributed not alittle to the Chinaman's success. 

"There is only one thing to fear, " he jerked suddenly; "he may not beready for another attempt to-night. "

"Why?"

"Since he has only been in England for a short time, his menagerie ofvenomous things may be a limited one at present. "

Earlier in the evening there had been a brief but violent thunderstorm, with a tropical downpour of rain, and now clouds were scudding acrossthe blue of the sky. Through a temporary rift in the veiling thecrescent of the moon looked down upon us. It had a greenish tint, and itset me thinking of the filmed, green eyes of Fu-Manchu. 

The cloud passed and a lake of silver spread out to the edge of thecoppice, where it terminated at a shadow bank. 

"There it is, Petrie!" hissed Nayland Smith. 

A lambent light was born in the darkness; it rose slowly, unsteadily, toa great height, and died. 

"It's under the trees, Smith!"

But he was already making for the door. Over his shoulder:

"Bring the pistol, Petrie!" he cried; "I have another. Give me at leasttwenty yards' start or no attempt may be made. But the instant I'm underthe trees, join me. "

Out of the house we ran, and over onto the common, which latterly hadbeen a pageant ground for phantom warring. The light did not appearagain; and as Smith plunged off toward the trees, I wondered if he knewwhat uncanny thing was hidden there. I more than suspected that he hadsolved the mystery. 

His instructions to keep well in the rear I understood. Fu-Manchu, orthe creature of Fu-Manchu, would attempt nothing in the presence of awitness. But we knew full well that the instrument of death which washidden in the elm coppice could do its ghastly work and leave no clue, could slay and vanish. For had not Forsyth come to a dreadful end whileSmith and I were within twenty yards of him?

Not a breeze stirred, as Smith, ahead of me--for I had slowed mypace--came up level with the first tree. The moon sailed clear of thestraggling cloud wisps which alone told of the recent storm; and I notedthat an irregular patch of light lay silvern on the moist ground underthe elms where otherwise lay shadow. 

He passed on, slowly. I began to run again. Black against the silvernpatch, I saw him emerge--and look up. 

"Be careful, Smith!" I cried--and I was racing under the trees to joinhim. 

Uttering a loud cry, he leaped--away from the pool of light. 

"Stand back, Petrie!" he screamed--"Back! further!"

He charged into me, shoulder lowered, and sent me reeling!

Mixed up with his excited cry I had heard a loud splintering andsweeping of branches overhead; and now as we staggered into the shadowsit seemed that one of the elms was reaching down to touch us! So, atleast, the phenomenon presented itself to my mind in that fleetingmoment while Smith, uttering his warning cry, was hurling me back. 

Then the truth became apparent. 

With an appalling crash, a huge bough fell from above. One piercing, awful shriek there was, a crackling of broken branches, and a chokinggroan... 

The crack of Smith's pistol close beside me completed my confusion ofmind. 

"Missed!" he yelled. "Shoot it, Petrie! On your left! For God's sakedon't miss it!"

I turned. A lithe black shape was streaking past me. Ifired--once--twice. Another frightful cry made yet more hideous thenocturne. 

Nayland Smith was directing the ray of a pocket torch upon the fallenbough. 

"Have you killed it, Petrie?" he cried. 

"Yes, yes!"

I stood beside him, looking down. From the tangle of leaves and twigsan evil yellow face looked up at us. The features were contorted withagony, but the malignant eyes, wherein light was dying, regarded us withinflexible hatred. The man was pinned beneath the heavy bough; his backwas broken; and as we watched, he expired, frothing slightly at themouth, and quitted his tenement of clay, leaving those glassy eyes sethideously upon us. 

"The pagan gods fight upon our side, " said Smith strangely. "Elms have adangerous habit of shedding boughs in still weather--particularly aftera storm. Pan, god of the woods, with this one has performed Justice'swork of retribution. "

"I don't understand. Where was this man--"

"Up the tree, lying along the bough which fell, Petrie! That is why heleft no footmarks. Last night no doubt he made his escape by swingingfrom bough to bough, ape fashion, and descending to the ground somewhereat the other side of the coppice. "

He glanced at me. 

"You are wondering, perhaps, " he suggested, "what caused the mysteriouslight? I could have told you this morning, but I fear I was in a badtemper, Petrie. It's very simple: a length of tape soaked in spirit orsomething of the kind, and sheltered from the view of any one watchingfrom your windows, behind the trunk of the tree; then, the end ignited, lowered, still behind the tree, to the ground. The operator swinging itaround, the flame ascended, of course. I found the unburned fragment ofthe tape last night, a few yards from here. "

I was peering down at Fu-Manchu's servant, the hideous yellow man wholay dead in a bower of elm leaves. 

"He has some kind of leather bag beside him, " I began--

"Exactly!" rapped Smith. "In that he carried his dangerous instrument ofdeath; from that he released it!"

"Released what?"

"What your fascinating friend came to recapture this morning. "

"Don't taunt me, Smith!" I said bitterly. "Is it some species of bird?"

"You saw the marks on Forsyth's body, and I told you of those which Ihad traced upon the ground here. They were caused by claws, Petrie!"

"Claws! I thought so! But what claws?"

"The claws of a poisonous thing. I recaptured the one used last night, killed it--against my will--and buried it on the mound. I was afraid tothrow it in the pond, lest some juvenile fisherman should pull it outand sustain a scratch. I don't know how long the claws would remainvenomous. "

"You are treating me like a child, Smith, " I said slowly. "No doubt Iam hopelessly obtuse, but perhaps you will tell me what this Chinamancarried in a leather bag and released upon Forsyth. It was somethingwhich you recaptured, apparently with the aid of a plate of cold turbotand a jug of milk! It was something, also, which Karamaneh had been sentto recapture with the aid--"

I stopped. 

"Go on, " said Nayland Smith, turning the ray to the left, "what did shehave in the basket?"

"Valerian, " I replied mechanically. 

The ray rested upon the lithe creature that I had shot down. 

It was a black cat!

"A cat will go through fire and water for valerian, " said Smith; "but Igot first innings this morning with fish and milk! I had recognized theimprints under the trees for those of a cat, and I knew, that if a cathad been released here it would still be hiding in the neighborhood, probably in the bushes. I finally located a cat, sure enough, andcame for bait! I laid my trap, for the animal was too frightened to beapproachable, and then shot it; I had to. That yellow fiend used thelight as a decoy. The branch which killed him jutted out over the pathat a spot where an opening in the foliage above allowed some moon raysto penetrate. Directly the victim stood beneath, the Chinaman utteredhis bird cry; the one below looked up, and the cat, previously heldsilent and helpless in the leather sack, was dropped accurately upon hishead!"

"But"--I was growing confused. 

Smith stooped lower. 

"The cat's claws are sheathed now, " he said; "but if you could examinethem you would find that they are coated with a shining black substance. Only Fu-Manchu knows what that substance is, Petrie, but you and I knowwhat it can do!"

CHAPTER VII. ENTER MR. ABEL SLATTIN

"I don't blame you!" rapped Nayland Smith. "Suppose we say, then, athousand pounds if you show us the present hiding-place of Fu-Manchu, the payment to be in no way subject to whether we profit by yourinformation or not?"

Abel Slattin shrugged his shoulders, racially, and returned to thearmchair which he had just quitted. He reseated himself, placing his hatand cane upon my writing-table. 

"A little agreement in black and white?" he suggested smoothly. 

Smith raised himself up out of the white cane chair, and, bendingforward over a corner of the table, scribbled busily upon a sheet ofnotepaper with my fountain-pen. 

The while he did so, I covertly studied our visitor. He lay back inthe armchair, his heavy eyelids lowered deceptively. He was a thoughtoverdressed--a big man, dark-haired and well groomed, who toyed with amonocle most unsuitable to his type. During the preceding conversation, I had been vaguely surprised to note Mr. Abel Slattin's marked Americanaccent. 

Sometimes, when Slattin moved, a big diamond which he wore upon thethird finger of his right hand glittered magnificently. There was a sortof bluish tint underlying the dusky skin, noticeable even in his handsbut proclaiming itself significantly in his puffy face and especiallyunder the eyes. I diagnosed a laboring valve somewhere in the heartsystem. 

Nayland Smith's pen scratched on. My glance strayed from our Semiticcaller to his cane, lying upon the red leather before me. It was of mostunusual workmanship, apparently Indian, being made of some kind of darkbrown, mottled wood, bearing a marked resemblance to a snake's skin; andthe top of the cane was carved in conformity, to represent the headof what I took to be a puff-adder, fragments of stone, or beads, beinginserted to represent the eyes, and the whole thing being finished withan artistic realism almost startling. 

When Smith had tossed the written page to Slattin, and he, having readit with an appearance of carelessness, had folded it neatly and placedit in his pocket, I said:

"You have a curio here?"

Our visitor, whose dark eyes revealed all the satisfaction which, by hismanner, he sought to conceal, nodded and took up the cane in his hand. 

"It comes from Australia, Doctor, " he replied; "it's aboriginal work, and was given to me by a client. You thought it was Indian? Everybodydoes. It's my mascot. "

"Really?"

"It is indeed. Its former owner ascribed magical powers to it! Infact, I believe he thought that it was one of those staffs mentioned inbiblical history--"

"Aaron's rod?" suggested Smith, glancing at the cane. 

"Something of the sort, " said Slattin, standing up and again preparingto depart. 

"You will 'phone us, then?" asked my friend. 

"You will hear from me to-morrow, " was the reply. 

Smith returned to the cane armchair, and Slattin, bowing to both of us, made his way to the door as I rang for the girl to show him out. 

"Considering the importance of his proposal, " I began, as the doorclosed, "you hardly received our visitor with cordiality. "

"I hate to have any relations with him, " answered my friend; "but wemust not be squeamish respecting our instruments in dealing with Dr. Fu-Manchu. Slattin has a rotten reputation--even for a private inquiryagent. He is little better than a blackmailer--"

"How do you know?"

"Because I called on our friend Weymouth at the Yard yesterday andlooked up the man's record. "

"Whatever for?"

"I knew that he was concerning himself, for some reason, in the case. Beyond doubt he has established some sort of communication with theChinese group; I am only wondering--"

"You don't mean--"

"Yes--I do, Petrie! I tell you he is unscrupulous enough to stoop evento that. "

No doubt, Slattin knew that this gaunt, eager-eyed Burmese commissionerwas vested with ultimate authority in his quest of the mighty Chinamanwho represented things unutterable, whose potentialities for evil wereboundless as his genius, who personified a secret danger, the extentand nature of which none of us truly understood. And, learning of thesethings, with unerring Semitic instinct he had sought an opening in thisglittering Rialto. But there were two bidders!

"You think he may have sunk so low as to become a creature ofFu-Manchu?" I asked, aghast. 

"Exactly! If it paid him well I do not doubt that he would serve thatmaster as readily as any other. His record is about as black as itwell could be. Slattin is of course an assumed name; he was known asLieutenant Pepley when he belonged to the New York Police, and he waskicked out of the service for complicity in an unsavory Chinatown case. "

"Chinatown!"

"Yes, Petrie, it made me wonder, too; and we must not forget that he isundeniably a clever scoundrel. "

"Shall you keep any appointment which he may suggest?"

"Undoubtedly. But I shall not wait until tomorrow. "

"What!"

"I propose to pay a little informal visit to Mr. Abel Slattin, to-night. "

"At his office?"

"No; at his private residence. If, as I more than suspect, his objectis to draw us into some trap, he will probably report his favorableprogress to his employer to-night!"

"Then we should have followed him!"

Nayland Smith stood up and divested himself of the old shooting-jacket. 

"He has been followed, Petrie, " he replied, with one of his rare smiles. "Two C. I. D. Men have been watching the house all night!"

This was entirely characteristic of my friend's farseeing methods. 

"By the way, " I said, "you saw Eltham this morning. He will soon beconvalescent. Where, in heaven's name, can he--"

"Don't be alarmed on his behalf, Petrie, " interrupted Smith. "His lifeis no longer in danger. "

I stared, stupidly. 

"No longer in danger!"

"He received, some time yesterday, a letter, written in Chinese, uponChinese paper, and enclosed in an ordinary business envelope, having atypewritten address and bearing a London postmark. "

"Well?"

"As nearly as I can render the message in English, it reads: 'Although, because you are a brave man, you would not betray your correspondent inChina, he has been discovered. He was a mandarin, and as I cannot writethe name of a traitor, I may not name him. He was executed four daysago. I salute you and pray for your speedy recovery. Fu-Manchu. '"

"Fu-Manchu! But it is almost certainly a trap. "

"On the contrary, Petrie--Fu-Manchu would not have written in Chineseunless he were sincere; and, to clear all doubt, I received a cable thismorning reporting that the Mandarin Yen-Sun-Yat was assassinated in hisown garden, in Nan-Yang, one day last week. "

CHAPTER VIII. DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES

Together we marched down the slope of the quiet, suburban avenue; totake pause before a small, detached house displaying the hatchet boardsof the Estate Agent. Here we found unkempt laurel bushes and acaciasrun riot, from which arboreal tangle protruded the notice--"To be Let orSold. "

Smith, with an alert glance to right and left, pushed open the woodengate and drew me in upon the gravel path. Darkness mantled all; for thenearest street lamp was fully twenty yards beyond. 

From the miniature jungle bordering the path, a soft whistle sounded. 

"Is that Carter?" called Smith, sharply. 

A shadowy figure uprose, and vaguely I made it out for that of a man inthe unobtrusive blue serge which is the undress uniform of the Force. 

"Well?" rapped my companion. 

"Mr. Slattin returned ten minutes ago, sir, " reported the constable. "Hecame in a cab which he dismissed--"

"He has not left again?"

"A few minutes after his return, " the man continued, "another cab cameup, and a lady alighted. "

"A lady!"

"The same, sir, that has called upon him before. "

"Smith!" I whispered, plucking at his arm--"is it--"

He half turned, nodding his head; and my heart began to throb foolishly. For now the manner of Slattin's campaign suddenly was revealed to me. Inour operations against the Chinese murder-group two years before, we hadhad an ally in the enemy's camp--Karamaneh the beautiful slave, whosepresence in those happenings of the past had colored the sometimessordid drama with the opulence of old Arabia; who had seemed a fittingfigure for the romances of Bagdad during the Caliphate--Karamaneh, whomI had thought sincere, whose inscrutable Eastern soul I had presumed, fatuously, to have laid bare and analyzed. 

Now, once again she was plying her old trade of go-between; professingto reveal the secrets of Dr. Fu-Manchu, and all the time--I could notdoubt it--inveigling men into the net of this awful fisher. 

Yesterday, I had been her dupe; yesterday, I had rejoiced in mycaptivity. To-day, I was not the favored one; to-day I had not beenselected recipient of her confidences--confidences sweet, seductive, deadly: but Abel Slattin, a plausible rogue, who, in justice, shouldbe immured in Sing Sing, was chosen out, was enslaved by those lovelymysterious eyes, was taking to his soul the lies which fell from thoseperfect lips, triumphant in a conquest that must end in his undoing;deeming, poor fool, that for love of him this pearl of the Orient wasabout to betray her master, to resign herself a prize to the victor!

Companioned by these bitter reflections, I had lost the remainder of theconversation between Nayland Smith and the police officer; now, castingoff the succubus memory which threatened to obsess me, I put forth agiant mental effort to purge my mind of this uncleanness, and becameagain an active participant in the campaign against the Master--thedirector of all things noxious. 

Our plans being evidently complete, Smith seized my arm, and I foundmyself again out upon the avenue. He led me across the road and into thegate of a house almost opposite. From the fact that two upper windowswere illuminated, I adduced that the servants were retiring; the otherwindows were in darkness, except for one on the ground floor to theextreme left of the building, through the lowered venetian blindswhereof streaks of light shone out. 

"Slattin's study!" whispered Smith. "He does not anticipatesurveillance, and you will note that the window is wide open!"

With that my friend crossed the strip of lawn, and careless of the factthat his silhouette must have been visible to any one passing the gate, climbed carefully up the artificial rockery intervening, and crouchedupon the window-ledge peering into the room. 

A moment I hesitated, fearful that if I followed, I should stumble ordislodge some of the larva blocks of which the rockery was composed. 

Then I heard that which summoned me to the attempt, whatever the cost. 

Through the open window came the sound of a musical voice--a voicepossessing a haunting accent, possessing a quality which struck upon myheart and set it quivering as though it were a gong hung in my bosom. 

Karamaneh was speaking. 

Upon hands and knees, heedless of damage to my garments, I crawled upbeside Smith. One of the laths was slightly displaced and over this myfriend was peering in. Crouching close beside him, I peered in also. 

I saw the study of a business man, with its files, neatly arranged worksof reference, roll-top desk, and Milner safe. Before the desk, in arevolving chair, sat Slattin. He sat half turned toward the window, leaning back and smiling; so that I could note the gold crown whichpreserved the lower left molar. In an armchair by the window, close, very close, and sitting with her back to me, was Karamaneh!

She, who, in my dreams, I always saw, was ever seeing, in an Easterndress, with gold bands about her white ankles, with jewel-laden fingers, with jewels in her hair, wore now a fashionable costume and a hat thatcould only have been produced in Paris. Karamaneh was the one Orientalwoman I had ever known who could wear European clothes; and as I watchedthat exquisite profile, I thought that Delilah must have been just suchanother as this, that, excepting the Empress Poppaea, history has recordof no woman, who, looking so innocent, was yet so utterly vile. 

"Yes, my dear, " Slattin was saying, and through his monocle ogling hisbeautiful visitor, "I shall be ready for you to-morrow night. "

I felt Smith start at the words. 

"There will be a sufficient number of men?"

Karamaneh put the question in a strangely listless way. 

"My dear little girl, " replied Slattin, rising and standing looking downat her, with his gold tooth twinkling in the lamplight, "there will be awhole division, if a whole division is necessary. "

He sought to take her white gloved hand, which rested upon the chairarm; but she evaded the attempt with seeming artlessness, and stood up. Slattin fixed his bold gaze upon her. 

"So now, give me my orders, " he said. 

"I am not prepared to do so, yet, " replied the girl, composedly; "butnow that I know you are ready, I can make my plans. "

She glided past him to the door, avoiding his outstretched arm with anartless art which made me writhe; for once I had been the willing victimof all these wiles. 

"But--" began Slattin. 

"I will ring you up in less than half an hour, " said Karamaneh andwithout further ceremony, she opened the door. 

I still had my eyes glued to the aperture in the blind, when Smith begantugging at my arm. 

"Down! you fool!" he hissed harshly--"if she sees us, all is lost!"

Realizing this, and none too soon, I turned, and rather clumsilyfollowed my friend. I dislodged a piece of granite in my descent; but, fortunately, Slattin had gone out into the hall and could not well haveheard it. 

We were crouching around an angle of the house, when a flood of lightpoured down the steps, and Karamaneh rapidly descended. I had a glimpseof a dark-faced man who evidently had opened the door for her, then allmy thoughts were centered upon that graceful figure receding from mein the direction of the avenue. She wore a loose cloak, and I saw thisfluttering for a moment against the white gate posts; then she was gone. 

Yet Smith did not move. Detaining me with his hand he crouched thereagainst a quick-set hedge; until, from a spot lower down the hill, we heard the start of the cab which had been waiting. Twenty secondselapsed, and from some other distant spot a second cab started. 

"That's Weymouth!" snapped Smith. "With decent luck, we should knowFu-Manchu's hiding-place before Slattin tells us!"

"But--"

"Oh! as it happens, he's apparently playing the game. "--In thehalf-light, Smith stared at me significantly--"Which makes it all themore important, " he concluded, "that we should not rely upon his aid!"

Those grim words were prophetic. 

My companion made no attempt to communicate with the detective (ordetectives) who shared our vigil; we took up a position close under thelighted study window and waited--waited. 

Once, a taxi-cab labored hideously up the steep gradient of the avenue... It was gone. The lights at the upper windows above us becameextinguished. A policeman tramped past the gateway, casually flashinghis lamp in at the opening. One by one the illuminated windows in otherhouses visible to us became dull; then lived again as mirrors for thepallid moon. In the silence, words spoken within the study were clearlyaudible; and we heard someone--presumably the man who had opened thedoor--inquire if his services would be wanted again that night. 

Smith inclined his head and hung over me in a tense attitude, in orderto catch Slattin's reply. 

"Yes, Burke, " it came--"I want you to sit up until I return; I shall begoing out shortly. "

Evidently the man withdrew at that; for a complete silence followedwhich prevailed for fully half an hour. I sought cautiously to move mycramped limbs, unlike Smith, who seeming to have sinews of piano-wire, crouched beside me immovable, untiringly. Then loud upon the stillness, broke the strident note of the telephone bell. 

I started, nervously, clutching at Smith's arm. It felt hard as iron tomy grip. 

"Hullo!" I heard Slattin call--"who is speaking?... Yes, yes! This isMr. A. S.... I am to come at once?... I know where--yes I ... Youwill meet me there?... Good!--I shall be with you in half an hour.... Good-by!"

Distinctly I heard the creak of the revolving office-chair as Slattinrose; then Smith had me by the arm, and we were flying swiftly away fromthe door to take up our former post around the angle of the building. This gained:

"He's going to his death!" rapped Smith beside me; "but Carter has a cabfrom the Yard waiting in the nearest rank. We shall follow to see wherehe goes--for it is possible that Weymouth may have been thrown off thescent; then, when we are sure of his destination, we can take a hand inthe game! We... "

The end of the sentence was lost to me--drowned in such a frightful waveof sound as I despair to describe. It began with a high, thin scream, which was choked off staccato fashion; upon it followed a loud anddreadful cry uttered with all the strength of Slattin's lungs--

"Oh, God!" he cried, and again--"Oh, God!"

This in turn merged into a sort of hysterical sobbing. 

I was on my feet now, and automatically making for the door. I had avague impression of Nayland Smith's face beside me, the eyes glassy witha fearful apprehension. Then the door was flung open, and, in the brightlight of the hall-way, I saw Slattin standing--swaying and seeminglyfighting with the empty air. 

"What is it? For God's sake, what has happened!" reached my earsdimly--and the man Burke showed behind his master. White-faced I saw himto be; for now Smith and I were racing up the steps. 

Ere we could reach him, Slattin, uttering another choking cry, pitchedforward and lay half across the threshold. 

We burst into the hall, where Burke stood with both his hands raiseddazedly to his head. I could hear the sound of running feet upon thegravel, and knew that Carter was coming to join us. 

Burke, a heavy man with a lowering, bull-dog type of face, collapsedonto his knees beside Slattin, and began softly to laugh in littlerising peals. 

"Drop that!" snapped Smith, and grasping him by the shoulders, he senthim spinning along the hallway, where he sank upon the bottom step ofthe stairs, to sit with his outstretched fingers extended before hisface, and peering at us grotesquely through the crevices. 

There were rustlings and subdued cries from the upper part of thehouse. Carter came in out of the darkness, carefully stepping over therecumbent figure; and the three of us stood there in the lighted halllooking down at Slattin. 

"Help us to move him back, " directed Smith, tensely; "far enough toclose the door. "

Between us we accomplished this, and Carter fastened the door. We werealone with the shadow of Fu-Manchu's vengeance; for as I knelt besidethe body on the floor, a look and a touch sufficed to tell me that thiswas but clay from which the spirit had fled!

Smith met my glance as I raised my head, and his teeth came togetherwith a loud snap; the jaw muscles stood out prominently beneath thedark skin; and his face was grimly set in that odd, half-despairfulexpression which I knew so well but which boded so ill for whomsoeveroccasioned it. 

"Dead, Petrie!--already?"

"Lightning could have done the work no better. Can I turn him over?"

Smith nodded. 

Together we stooped and rolled the heavy body on its back. A flood ofwhispers came sibilantly from the stairway. Smith spun around rapidly, and glared upon the group of half-dressed servants. 

"Return to your rooms!" he rapped, imperiously; "let no one come intothe hall without my orders. "

The masterful voice had its usual result; there was a hurried retreatto the upper landing. Burke, shaking like a man with an ague, sat on thelower step, pathetically drumming his palms upon his uplifted knees. 

"I warned him, I warned him!" he mumbled monotonously, "I warned him, oh, I warned him!"

"Stand up!" shouted Smith--"stand up and come here!"

The man, with his frightened eyes turning to right and left, and seemingto search for something in the shadows about him, advanced obediently. 

"Have you a flask?" demanded Smith of Carter. 

The detective silently administered to Burke a stiff restorative. 

"Now, " continued Smith, "you, Petrie, will want to examine him, Isuppose?" He pointed to the body. "And in the meantime I have somequestions to put to you, my man. "

He clapped his hand upon Burke's shoulder. 

"My God!" Burke broke out, "I was ten yards from him when it happened!"

"No one is accusing you, " said Smith, less harshly; "but since you werethe only witness, it is by your aid that we hope to clear the matterup. "

Exerting a gigantic effort to regain control of himself, Burke nodded, watching my friend with a childlike eagerness. During the ensuingconversation, I examined Slattin for marks of violence; and of what Ifound, more anon. 

"In the first place, " said Smith, "you say that you warned him. When didyou warn him and of what?"

"I warned him, sir, that it would come to this--"

"That what would come to this?"'

"His dealings with the Chinaman!"

"He had dealings with Chinamen?"

"He accidentally met a Chinaman at an East End gaming-house, a man hehad known in Frisco--a man called Singapore Charlie--"

"What! Singapore Charlie!"

"Yes, sir, the same man that had a dope-shop, two years ago, downRatcliffe way--"

"There was a fire--"

"But Singapore Charlie escaped, sir. "

"And he is one of the gang?"

"He is one of what we used to call in New York, the Seven Group. "

Smith began to tug at the lobe of his left ear, reflectively, as I sawout of the corner of my eye. 

"The Seven Group!" he mused. "That is significant. I always suspectedthat Dr. Fu-Manchu and the notorious Seven Group were one and the same. Go on, Burke. "

"Well, sir, " the man continued, more calmly, "the lieutenant--"

"The lieutenant!" began Smith; then: "Oh! of course; Slattin used to bea police lieutenant!"

"Well, sir, he--Mr. Slattin--had a sort of hold on this SingaporeCharlie, and two years ago, when he first met him, he thought that withhis aid he was going to pull off the biggest thing of his life--"

"Forestall me, in fact?"

"Yes, sir; but you got in first, with the big raid and spoiled it. "

Smith nodded grimly, glancing at the Scotland Yard man, who returned hisnod with equal grimness. 

"A couple of months ago, " resumed Burke, "he met Charlie again downEast, and the Chinaman introduced him to a girl--some sort of anEgyptian girl. "

"Go on!" snapped Smith--"I know her. "

"He saw her a good many times--and she came here once or twice. She madeout that she and Singapore Charlie were prepared to give away the bossof the Yellow gang--"

"For a price, of course?"

"I suppose so, " said Burke; "but I don't know. I only know that I warnedhim. "

"H'm!" muttered Smith. "And now, what took place to-night?"

"He had an appointment here with the girl, " began Burke

"I know all that, " interrupted Smith. "I merely want to know, what tookplace after the telephone call?"

"Well, he told me to wait up, and I was dozing in the next room to thestudy--the dining-room--when the 'phone bell aroused me. I heard thelieutenant--Mr. Slattin, coming out, and I ran out too, but only in timeto see him taking his hat from the rack--"

"But he wears no hat!"

"He never got it off the peg! Just as he reached up to take it, he gavea most frightful scream, and turned around like lightning as though someone had attacked him from behind!"

"There was no one else in the hall?"

"No one at all. I was standing down there outside the dining-room justby the stairs, but he didn't turn in my direction, he turned and lookedright behind him--where there was no one--nothing. His cries werefrightful. " Burke's voice broke, and he shuddered feverishly. "Then hemade a rush for the front door. It seemed as though he had not seen me. He stood there screaming; but, before I could reach him, he fell.... "

Nayland Smith fixed a piercing gaze upon Burke. 

"Is that all you know?" he demanded slowly. 

"As God is my judge, sir, that's all I know, and all I saw. There was noliving thing near him when he met his death. "

"We shall see, " muttered Smith. He turned to me--"What killed him?" heasked, shortly. 

"Apparently, a minute wound on the left wrist, " I replied, and, stooping, I raised the already cold hand in mine. 

A tiny, inflamed wound showed on the wrist; and a certain puffiness wasbecoming observable in the injured hand and arm. Smith bent down anddrew a quick, sibilant breath. 

"You know what this is, Petrie?" he cried. 

"Certainly. It was too late to employ a ligature and useless to injectammonia. Death was practically instantaneous. His heart... "

There came a loud knocking and ringing. 

"Carter!" cried Smith, turning to the detective, "open that door to noone--no one. Explain who I am--"

"But if it is the inspector?--"

"I said, open the door to no one!" snapped Smith. 

"Burke, stand exactly where you are! Carter, you can speak to whoeverknocks, through the letter-box. Petrie, don't move for your life! It maybe here, in the hallway!--"

CHAPTER IX. THE CLIMBER

Our search of the house of Abel Slattin ceased only with the coming ofthe dawn, and yielded nothing but disappointment. Failure followed uponfailure; for, in the gray light of the morning, our own quest concluded, Inspector Weymouth returned to report that the girl, Karamaneh, hadthrown him off the scent. 

Again he stood before me, the big, burly friend of old and dreadfuldays, a little grayer above the temples, which I set down for a recordof former horrors, but deliberate, stoical, thorough, as ever. His blueeyes melted in the old generous way as he saw me, and he gripped my handin greeting. 

"Once again, " he said, "your dark-eyed friend has been too clever forme, Doctor. But the track as far as I could follow, leads to the oldspot. In fact, "--he turned to Smith, who, grim-faced and haggard, looked thoroughly ill in that gray light--"I believe Fu-Manchu's lair issomewhere near the former opium-den of Shen-Yan--'Singapore Charlie. '"

Smith nodded. 

"We will turn our attention in that direction, " he replied, "at a veryearly date. "

Inspector Weymouth looked down at the body of Abel Slattin. 

"How was it done?" he asked softly. 

"Clumsily for Fu-Manchu, " I replied. "A snake was introduced into thehouse by some means--"

"By Karamaneh!" rapped Smith. 

"Very possibly by Karamaneh, " I continued firmly. "The thing has escapedus. "

"My own idea, " said Smith, "is that it was concealed about his clothing. When he fell by the open door it glided out of the house. We must havethe garden searched thoroughly by daylight. "

"He"--Weymouth glanced at that which lay upon the floor--"must be moved;but otherwise we can leave the place untouched, clear out the servants, and lock the house up. "

"I have already given orders to that effect, " answered Smith. He spokewearily and with a note of conscious defeat in his voice. "Nothing hasbeen disturbed;"--he swept his arm around comprehensively--"papers andso forth you can examine at leisure. "

Presently we quitted that house upon which the fateful Chinaman hadset his seal, as the suburb was awakening to a new day. The clank ofmilk-cans was my final impression of the avenue to which a dreadfulminister of death had come at the bidding of the death lord. Weleft Inspector Weymouth in charge and returned to my rooms, scarcelyexchanging a word upon the way. 

Nayland Smith, ignoring my entreaties, composed himself for slumber inthe white cane chair in my study. About noon he retired to the bathroom, and returning, made a pretense of breakfast; then resumed his seat inthe cane armchair. Carter reported in the afternoon, but his report wasmerely formal. Returning from my round of professional visits at halfpast five, I found Nayland Smith in the same position; and so the daywaned into evening, and dusk fell uneventfully. 

In the corner of the big room by the empty fireplace, Nayland Smith lay, with his long, lean frame extended in the white cane chair. A tumbler, from which two straws protruded, stood by his right elbow, and a perfectcontinent of tobacco smoke lay between us, wafted toward the door by thedraught from an open window. He had littered the hearth with matches andtobacco ash, being the most untidy smoker I have ever met; and savefor his frequent rapping-out of his pipe bowl and perpetual striking ofmatches, he had shown no sign of activity for the past hour. Collarlessand wearing an old tweed jacket, he had spent the evening, as he hadspent the day, in the cane chair, only quitting it for some ten minutes, or less, to toy with dinner. 

My several attempts at conversation had elicited nothing but growls;therefore, as dusk descended, having dismissed my few patients, Ibusied myself collating my notes upon the renewed activity of the YellowDoctor, and was thus engaged when the 'phone bell disturbed me. It wasSmith who was wanted, however; and he went out eagerly, leaving me to mytask. 

At the end of a lengthy conversation, he returned from the 'phone andbegan, restlessly, to pace the room. I made a pretense of continuing mylabors, but covertly I was watching him. He was twitching at the lobe ofhis left ear, and his face was a study in perplexity. Abruptly he burstout:

"I shall throw the thing up, Petrie! Either I am growing too old to copewith such an adversary as Fu-Manchu, or else my intellect has becomedull. I cannot seem to think clearly or consistently. For the Doctor, this crime, this removal of Slattin, is clumsy--unfinished. There aretwo explanations. Either he, too, is losing his old cunning or he hasbeen interrupted!"

"Interrupted!"

"Take the facts, Petrie, "--Smith clapped his hands upon my table andbent down, peering into my eyes--"is it characteristic of Fu-Manchu tokill a man by the direct agency of a snake and to implicate one of hisown damnable servants in this way?"

"But we have found no snake!"

"Karamaneh introduced one in some way. Do you doubt it?"

"Certainly Karamaneh visited him on the evening of his death, but youmust be perfectly well aware that even if she had been arrested, no jurycould convict her. "

Smith resumed his restless pacings up and down. 

"You are very useful to me, Petrie, " he replied; "as a counsel forthe defense you constantly rectify my errors of prejudice. Yet I amconvinced that our presence at Slattin's house last night preventedFu-Manchu from finishing off this little matter as he had designed todo. "

"What has given you this idea?"

"Weymouth is responsible. He has rung me up from the Yard. The constableon duty at the house where the murder was committed, reports that someone, less than an hour ago, attempted to break in. "

"Break in!"

"Ah! you are interested? I thought the circumstance illuminating, also!"

"Did the officer see this person?"

"No; he only heard him. It was some one who endeavored to enter by thebathroom window, which, I am told, may be reached fairly easily by anagile climber. "

"The attempt did not succeed?"

"No; the constable interrupted, but failed to make a capture or even tosecure a glimpse of the man. "

We were both silent for some moments; then:

"What do you propose to do?" I asked. 

"We must not let Fu-Manchu's servants know, " replied Smith, "butto-night I shall conceal myself in Slattin's house and remain therefor a week or a day--it matters not how long--until that attempt isrepeated. Quite obviously, Petrie, we have overlooked something whichimplicates the murderer with the murder! In short, either by accident, by reason of our superior vigilance, or by the clumsiness of his plans, Fu-Manchu for once in an otherwise blameless career, has left a clue!"

CHAPTER X. THE CLIMBER RETURNS

In utter darkness we groped our way through into the hallway ofSlattin's house, having entered, stealthily, from the rear; for Smithhad selected the study as a suitable base of operations. We reached itwithout mishap, and presently I found myself seated in the very chairwhich Karamaneh had occupied; my companion took up a post just withinthe widely opened door. 

So we commenced our ghostly business in the house of the murdered man--ahouse from which, but a few hours since, his body had been removed. Thiswas such a vigil as I had endured once before, when, with Nayland Smithand another, I had waited for the coming of one of Fu-Manchu's deathagents. 

Of all the sounds which, one by one, now began to detach themselvesfrom the silence, there was a particular sound, homely enough at anothertime, which spoke to me more dreadfully than the rest. It was theticking of the clock upon the mantelpiece; and I thought how this soundmust have been familiar to Abel Slattin, how it must have formedpart and parcel of his life, as it were, and how it went onnow--tick-tick-tick-tick--whilst he, for whom it had ticked, layunheeding--would never heed it more. 

As I grew more accustomed to the gloom, I found myself staring at hisoffice chair; once I found myself expecting Abel Slattin to enter theroom and occupy it. There was a little China Buddha upon the bureau inone corner, with a gilded cap upon its head, and as some reflection ofthe moonlight sought out this little cap, my thoughts grotesquely turnedupon the murdered man's gold tooth. 

Vague creakings from within the house, sounds as though of stealthyfootsteps upon the stair, set my nerves tingling; but Nayland Smith gaveno sign, and I knew that my imagination was magnifying these ordinarynight sounds out of all proportion to their actual significance. Leaves rustled faintly outside the window at my back: I construed theirsibilant whispers into the dreaded name--Fu-Manchu-Fu-Manchu--Fu-Manchu!

So wore on the night; and, when the ticking clock hollowly boomed thehour of one, I almost leaped out of my chair, so highly strung were mynerves, and so appallingly did the sudden clangor beat upon them. Smith, like a man of stone, showed no sign. He was capable of so subduing hisconstitutionally high-strung temperament, at times, that temporarilyhe became immune from human dreads. On such occasions he would be icilycool amid universal panic; but, his object accomplished, I have seen himin such a state of collapse, that utter nervous exhaustion is the onlyterm by which I can describe it. 

Tick-tick-tick-tick went the clock, and, with my heart still thumpingnoisily in my breast, I began to count the tickings; one, two, three, four, five, and so on to a hundred, and from one hundred to manyhundreds. 

Then, out from the confusion of minor noises, a new, arresting sounddetached itself. I ceased my counting; no longer I noted the tick-tickof the clock, nor the vague creakings, rustlings and whispers. I sawSmith, shadowly, raise his hand in warning--in needless warning, for Iwas almost holding my breath in an effort of acute listening. 

From high up in the house this new sound came from above the topmostroom, it seemed, up under the roof; a regular squeaking, oddly familiar, yet elusive. Upon it followed a very soft and muffled thud; then ametallic sound as of a rusty hinge in motion; then a new silence, pregnant with a thousand possibilities more eerie than any clamor. 

My mind was rapidly at work. Lighting the topmost landing of the housewas a sort of glazed trap, evidently set in the floor of a loft-likeplace extending over the entire building. Somewhere in the red-tiledroof above, there presumably existed a corresponding skylight orlantern. 

So I argued; and, ere I had come to any proper decision, another sound, more intimate, came to interrupt me. 

This time I could be in no doubt; some one was lifting the trap abovethe stairhead--slowly, cautiously, and all but silently. Yet to my ears, attuned to trifling disturbances, the trap creaked and groaned noisily. 

Nayland Smith waved to me to take a stand on the other side of theopened door--behind it, in fact, where I should be concealed from theview of any one descending the stair. 

I stood up and crossed the floor to my new post. 

A dull thud told of the trap fully raised and resting upon somesupporting joist. A faint rustling (of discarded garments, I toldmyself) spoke to my newly awakened, acute perceptions, of the visitorpreparing to lower himself to the landing. Followed a groan of woodworksubmitted to sudden strain--and the unmistakable pad of bare feet uponthe linoleum of the top corridor. 

I knew now that one of Dr. Fu-Manchu's uncanny servants had gained theroof of the house by some means, had broken through the skylight and haddescended by means of the trap beneath on to the landing. 

In such a tensed-up state as I cannot describe, nor, at this hourmentally reconstruct, I waited for the creaking of the stairs whichshould tell of the creature's descent. 

I was disappointed. Removed scarce a yard from me as he was, I couldhear Nayland Smith's soft, staccato breathing; but my eyes were all forthe darkened hallway, for the smudgy outline of the stair-rail with thefaint patterning in the background which, alone, indicated the wall. 

It was amid an utter silence, unheralded by even so slight a soundas those which I had acquired the power of detecting--that I saw thecontinuity of the smudgy line of stair-rail to be interrupted. 

A dark patch showed upon it, just within my line of sight, invisible toSmith on the other side of the doorway, and some ten or twelve stairsup. 

No sound reached me, but the dark patch vanished and reappeared threefeet lower down. 

Still I knew that this phantom approach must be unknown to mycompanion--and I knew that it was impossible for me to advise him of itunseen by the dreaded visitor. 

A third time the dark patch--the hand of one who, ghostly, silent, wascreeping down into the hallway--vanished and reappeared on a level withmy eyes. Then a vague shape became visible; no more than a blur upon thedim design of the wall-paper... And Nayland Smith got his first sight ofthe stranger. 

The clock on the mantelpiece boomed out the half-hour. 

At that, such was my state (I blush to relate it) I uttered a faint cry!

It ended all secrecy--that hysterical weakness of mine. It might havefrustrated our hopes; that it did not do so was in no measure due to me. But in a sort of passionate whirl, the ensuing events moved swiftly. 

Smith hesitated not one instant. With a panther-like leap he hurledhimself into the hall. 

"The lights, Petrie!" he cried--"the lights! The switch is near thestreet-door!"

I clenched my fists in a swift effort to regain control of mytreacherous nerves, and, bounding past Smith, and past the foot of thestair, I reached out my hand to the switch, the situation of which, fortunately, I knew. 

Around I came, in response to a shrill cry from behind me--an inhumancry, less a cry than the shriek of some enraged animal.... 

With his left foot upon the first stair, Nayland Smith stood, his leanbody bent perilously backward, his arms rigidly thrust out, and hissinewy fingers gripping the throat of an almost naked man--a man whosebrown body glistened unctuously, whose shaven head was apish low, whosebloodshot eyes were the eyes of a mad dog! His teeth, upper and lower, were bared; they glistened, they gnashed, and a froth was on his lips. With both his hands, he clutched a heavy stick, and once--twice, hebrought it down upon Nayland Smith's head!

I leaped forward to my friend's aid; but as though the blows had beenthose of a feather, he stood like some figure of archaic statuary, norfor an instant relaxed the death grip which he had upon his adversary'sthroat. 

Thrusting my way up the stairs, I wrenched the stick from the hand ofthe dacoit--for in this glistening brown man, I recognized one of thatdeadly brotherhood who hailed Dr. Fu-Manchu their Lord and Master. 

 * * * * *

I cannot dwell upon the end of that encounter; I cannot hope to makeacceptable to my readers an account of how Nayland Smith, glassy-eyed, and with consciousness ebbing from him instant by instant, stood there, a realization of Leighton's "Athlete, " his arms rigid as iron bars evenafter Fu-Manchu's servant hung limply in that frightful grip. 

In his last moments of consciousness, with the blood from his woundedhead trickling down into his eyes, he pointed to the stick which I hadtorn from the grip of the dacoit, and which I still held in my hand. 

"Not Aaron's rod, Petrie!" he gasped hoarsely--"the rod ofMoses!--Slattin's stick!"

Even in upon my anxiety for my friend, amazement intruded. 

"But, " I began--and turned to the rack in which Slattin's favorite caneat that moment reposed--had reposed at the time of his death. 

Yes!--there stood Slattin's cane; we had not moved it; we had disturbednothing in that stricken house; there it stood, in company with anumbrella and a malacca. 

I glanced at the cane in my hand. Surely there could not be two such inthe world?

Smith collapsed on the floor at my feet. 

"Examine the one in the rack, Petrie, " he whispered, almost inaudibly, "but do not touch it. It may not be yet.... "

I propped him up against the foot of the stairs, and as the constablebegan knocking violently at the street door, crossed to the rack andlifted out the replica of the cane which I held in my hand. 

A faint cry from Smith--and as if it had been a leprous thing, I droppedthe cane instantly. 

"Merciful God!" I groaned. 

Although, in every other particular, it corresponded with that which Iheld--which I had taken from the dacoit--which he had come to substitutefor the cane now lying upon the floor--in one dreadful particular itdiffered. 

Up to the snake's head it was an accurate copy; but the head lived!

Either from pain, fear or starvation, the thing confined in the hollowtube of this awful duplicate was become torpid. Otherwise, no poweron earth could have saved me from the fate of Abel Slattin; for thecreature was an Australian death-adder. 

CHAPTER XI. THE WHITE PEACOCK

Nayland Smith wasted no time in pursuing the plan of campaign which hehad mentioned to Inspector Weymouth. Less than forty-eight hours afterquitting the house of the murdered Slattin, I found myself bound alongWhitechapel Road upon strange enough business. 

A very fine rain was falling, which rendered it difficult to see clearlyfrom the windows; but the weather apparently had little effect upon thecommercial activities of the district. The cab was threading a hazardousway through the cosmopolitan throng crowding the street. On either sideof me extended a row of stalls, seemingly established in opposition tothe more legitimate shops upon the inner side of the pavement. 

Jewish hawkers, many of them in their shirt-sleeves, acclaimed therarity of the bargains which they had to offer; and, allowing for thedifference of costume, these tireless Israelites, heedless of climaticconditions, sweating at their mongery, might well have stood, not in asqualid London thoroughfare, but in an equally squalid market-street ofthe Orient. 

They offered linen and fine raiment; from footgear to hair-oil theirwares ranged. They enlivened their auctioneering with conjuring tricksand witty stories, selling watches by the aid of legerdemain, and fancyvests by grace of a seasonable anecdote. 

Poles, Russians, Serbs, Roumanians, Jews of Hungary, and Italiansof Whitechapel mingled in the throng. Near East and Far East rubbedshoulders. Pidgin English contested with Yiddish for the ownership ofsome tawdry article offered by an auctioneer whose nationality defiedconjecture, save that always some branch of his ancestry had drawnnourishment from the soil of Eternal Judea. 

Some wearing mens' caps, some with shawls thrown over their oily locks, and some, more true to primitive instincts, defying, bare-headed, theunkindly elements, bedraggled women--more often than not burdened withmuffled infants--crowded the pavements and the roadway, thronged aboutthe stalls like white ants about some choicer carrion. 

And the fine drizzling rain fell upon all alike, pattering upon the hoodof the taxi-cab, trickling down the front windows; glistening upon theunctuous hair of those in the street who were hatless; dewing the barearms of the auctioneers, and dripping, melancholy, from the tarpaulincoverings of the stalls. Heedless of the rain above and of the mudbeneath, North, South, East, and West mingled their cries, their bids, their blandishments, their raillery, mingled their persons in thatjoyless throng. 

Sometimes a yellow face showed close to one of the streaming windows;sometimes a black-eyed, pallid face, but never a face wholly sane andhealthy. This was an underworld where squalor and vice went hand in handthrough the beautiless streets, a melting-pot of the world's outcasts;this was the shadowland, which last night had swallowed up NaylandSmith. 

Ceaselessly I peered to right and left, searching amid that rain-soakedcompany for any face known to me. Whom I expected to find there, I knownot, but I should have counted it no matter for surprise had I detectedamid that ungracious ugliness the beautiful face of Karamaneh theEastern slave-girl, the leering yellow face of a Burmese dacoit, thegaunt, bronzed features of Nayland Smith; a hundred times I almostbelieved that I had seen the ruddy countenance of Inspector Weymouth, and once (at which instant my heart seemed to stand still) I sufferedfrom the singular delusion that the oblique green eyes of Dr. Fu-Manchupeered out from the shadows between two stalls. 

It was mere phantasy, of course, the sick imaginings of a mindoverwrought. I had not slept and had scarcely tasted food for morethan thirty hours; for, following up a faint clue supplied by Burke, Slattin's man, and, like his master, an ex-officer of New York Police, my friend, Nayland Smith, on the previous evening had set out in questof some obscene den where the man called Shen-Yan--former keeper of anopium-shop--was now said to be in hiding. 

Shen-Yan we knew to be a creature of the Chinese doctor, and only a mosturgent call had prevented me from joining Smith upon this promising, though hazardous expedition. 

At any rate, Fate willing it so, he had gone without me; andnow--although Inspector Weymouth, assisted by a number of C. I. D. Men, was sweeping the district about me--to the time of my departure nothingwhatever had been heard of Smith. The ordeal of waiting finally hadproved too great to be borne. With no definite idea of what I proposedto do, I had thrown myself into the search, filled with such dreadfulapprehensions as I hope never again to experience. 

I did not know the exact situation of the place to which Smith was gone, for owing to the urgent case which I have mentioned, I had been absentat the time of his departure; nor could Scotland Yard enlighten meupon this point. Weymouth was in charge of the case--under Smith'sdirection--and since the inspector had left the Yard, early thatmorning, he had disappeared as completely as Smith, no report havingbeen received from him. 

As my driver turned into the black mouth of a narrow, ill-lightedstreet, and the glare and clamor of the greater thoroughfare died behindme, I sank into the corner of the cab burdened with such a sense ofdesolation as mercifully comes but rarely. 

We were heading now for that strange settlement off the West India DockRoad, which, bounded by Limehouse Causeway and Pennyfields, and narrowlyconfined within four streets, composes an unique Chinatown, a miniatureof that at Liverpool, and of the greater one in San Francisco. Inspiredwith an idea which promised hopefully, I raised the speaking tube. 

"Take me first to the River Police Station, " I directed; "alongRatcliffe Highway. "

The man turned and nodded comprehendingly, as I could see through thewet pane. 

Presently we swerved to the right and into an even narrower street. Thisinclined in an easterly direction, and proved to communicate with a widethoroughfare along which passed brilliantly lighted electric trams. Ihad lost all sense of direction, and when, swinging to the left and tothe right again, I looked through the window and perceived that we werebefore the door of the Police Station, I was dully surprised. 

In quite mechanical fashion I entered the depot. Inspector Ryman, ourassociate in one of the darkest episodes of the campaign with the YellowDoctor two years before, received me in his office. 

By a negative shake of the head, he answered my unspoken question. 

"The ten o'clock boat is lying off the Stone Stairs, Doctor, " he said, "and co-operating with some of the Scotland Yard men who are draggingthat district--"

I shuddered at the word "dragging"; Ryman had not used it literally, butnevertheless it had conjured up a dread possibility--a possibility inaccordance with the methods of Dr. Fu-Manchu. All within space of aninstant I saw the tide of Limehouse Reach, the Thames lapping aboutthe green-coated timbers of a dock pier; and rising--falling--sometimesdisclosing to the pallid light a rigid hand, sometimes a horriblybloated face--I saw the body of Nayland Smith at the mercy of those oilywaters. Ryman continued:

"There is a launch out, too, patrolling the riverside from here toTilbury. Another lies at the breakwater"--he jerked his thumb over hisshoulder. "Should you care to take a run down and see for yourself?"

"No, thanks, " I replied, shaking my head. "You are doing all that can bedone. Can you give me the address of the place to which Mr. Smith wentlast night?"

"Certainly, " said Ryman; "I thought you knew it. You remember Shen-Yan'splace--by Limehouse Basin? Well, further east--east of the Causeway, between Gill Street and Three Colt Street--is a block of woodenbuildings. You recall them?"

"Yes, " I replied. "Is the man established there again, then?"

"It appears so, but, although you have evidently not been informed ofthe fact, Weymouth raided the establishment in the early hours of thismorning!"

"Well?" I cried. 

"Unfortunately with no result, " continued the inspector. "The notoriousShen-Yan was missing, and although there is no real doubt that the placeis used as a gaming-house, not a particle of evidence to that effectcould be obtained. Also--there was no sign of Mr. Nayland Smith, and nosign of the American, Burke, who had led him to the place. "

"Is it certain that they went there?"

"Two C. I. D. Men who were shadowing, actually saw the pair of thementer. A signal had been arranged, but it was never given; and at abouthalf past four, the place was raided. "

"Surely some arrests were made?"

"But there was no evidence!" cried Ryman. "Every inch of the rat-burrowwas searched. The Chinese gentleman who posed as the proprietor of whathe claimed to be a respectable lodging-house offered every facility tothe police. What could we do?"

"I take it that the place is being watched?"

"Certainly, " said Ryman. "Both from the river and from the shore. Oh!they are not there! God knows where they are, but they are not there!"

I stood for a moment in silence, endeavoring to determine my course;then, telling Ryman that I hoped to see him later, I walked out slowlyinto the rain and mist, and nodding to the taxi-driver to proceed to ouroriginal destination, I re-entered the cab. 

As we moved off, the lights of the River Police depot were swallowed upin the humid murk, and again I found myself being carried through thedarkness of those narrow streets, which, like a maze, hold secret withintheir labyrinth mysteries as great, and at least as foul, as that ofPasiphae. 

The marketing centers I had left far behind me; to my right stretchedthe broken range of riverside buildings, and beyond them flowed theThames, a stream more heavily burdened with secrets than ever was Tiberor Tigris. On my left, occasional flickering lights broke through themist, for the most part the lights of taverns; and saving these rentsin the veil, the darkness was punctuated with nothing but the faint andyellow luminance of the street lamps. 

Ahead was a black mouth, which promised to swallow me up as it hadswallowed up my friend. 

In short, what with my lowered condition and consequent frame of mind, and what with the traditions, for me inseparable from that gloomyquarter of London, I was in the grip of a shadowy menace which at anymoment might become tangible--I perceived, in the most commonplaceobjects, the yellow hand of Dr. Fu-Manchu. 

When the cab stopped in a place of utter darkness, I aroused myself withan effort, opened the door, and stepped out into the mud of a narrowlane. A high brick wall frowned upon me from one side, and, dimlyperceptible, there towered a smoke stack, beyond. On my right uprosethe side of a wharf building, shadowly, and some distance ahead, almostobscured by the drizzling rain, a solitary lamp flickered. I turned upthe collar of my raincoat, shivering, as much at the prospect as fromphysical chill. 

"You will wait here, " I said to the man; and, feeling in mybreast-pocket, I added: "If you hear the note of a whistle, drive on andrejoin me. "

He listened attentively and with a certain eagerness. I had selectedhim that night for the reason that he had driven Smith and myselfon previous occasions and had proved himself a man of intelligence. Transferring a Browning pistol from my hip-pocket to that of myraincoat, I trudged on into the mist. 

The headlights of the taxi were swallowed up behind me, and just abreastof the street lamp I stood listening. 

Save for the dismal sound of rain, and the trickling of water along thegutters, all about me was silent. Sometimes this silence would be brokenby the distant, muffled note of a steam siren; and always, forminga sort of background to the near stillness, was the remote din ofriverside activity. 

I walked on to the corner just beyond the lamp. This was the street inwhich the wooden buildings were situated. I had expected to detect someevidences of surveillances, but if any were indeed being observed, thefact was effectively masked. Not a living creature was visible, peer asI could. 

Plans, I had none, and perceiving that the street was empty, and thatno lights showed in any of the windows, I passed on, only to find that Ihad entered a cul-de-sac. 

A rickety gate gave access to a descending flight of stone steps, thebottom invisible in the denser shadows of an archway, beyond which, Idoubted not, lay the river. 

Still uninspired by any definite design, I tried the gate and found thatit was unlocked. Like some wandering soul, as it has since seemed tome, I descended. There was a lamp over the archway, but the glass wasbroken, and the rain apparently had extinguished the light; as I passedunder it, I could hear the gas whistling from the burner. 

Continuing my way, I found myself upon a narrow wharf with the Thamesflowing gloomily beneath me. A sort of fog hung over the river, shuttingme in. Then came an incident. 

Suddenly, quite near, there arose a weird and mournful cry--a cryindescribable, and inexpressibly uncanny!

I started back so violently that how I escaped falling into the riverI do not know to this day. That cry, so eerie and so wholly unexpected, had unnerved me; and realizing the nature of my surroundings, and thefolly of my presence alone in such a place, I began to edge back towardthe foot of the steps, away from the thing that cried; when--a greatwhite shape uprose like a phantom before me!... 

There are few men, I suppose, whose lives have been crowded with so manyeerie happenings as mine, but this phantom thing which grew out of thedarkness, which seemed about to envelope me, takes rank in my memoryamongst the most fearsome apparitions which I have witnessed. 

I knew that I was frozen with a sort of supernatural terror. I stoodthere with hands clenched, staring--staring at that white shape, whichseemed to float. 

As I stared, every nerve in my body thrilling, I distinguished theoutline of the phantom. With a subdued cry, I stepped forward. A newsensation claimed me. In that one stride I passed from the horrible tothe bizarre. 

I found myself confronted with something tangible, certainly, butsomething whose presence in that place was utterly extravagant--couldonly be reconcilable in the dreams of an opium slave. 

Was I awake, was I sane? Awake and sane beyond doubt, but surelymoving, not in the purlieus of Limehouse, but in the fantastic realms offairyland. 

Swooping, with open arms, I rounded up in an angle against the buildingand gathered in this screaming thing which had inspired in me so keen aterror. 

The great, ghostly fan was closed as I did so, and I stumbled backtoward the stair with my struggling captive tucked under my arm; Imounted into one of London's darkest slums, carrying a beautiful whitepeacock!

CHAPTER XII. DARK EYES LOOKED INTO MINE

My adventure had done nothing to relieve the feeling of unreality whichheld me enthralled. Grasping the struggling bird firmly by the body, andhaving the long white tail fluttering a yard or so behind me, I returnedto where the taxi waited. 

"Open the door!" I said to the man--who greeted me with such a stare ofamazement that I laughed outright, though my mirth was but hollow. 

He jumped into the road and did as I directed. Making sure that bothwindows were closed, I thrust the peacock into the cab and shut the doorupon it. 

"For God's sake, sir!" began the driver--

"It has probably escaped from some collector's place on the riverside, "I explained, "but one never knows. See that it does not escape again, and if at the end of an hour, as arranged, you do not hear from me, takeit back with you to the River Police Station. "

"Right you are, sir, " said the man, remounting his seat. "It's the firsttime I ever saw a peacock in Limehouse!"

It was the first time I had seen one, and the incident struck me asbeing more than odd; it gave me an idea, and a new, faint hope. Ireturned to the head of the steps, at the foot of which I had met withthis singular experience, and gazed up at the dark building beneathwhich they led. Three windows were visible, but they were broken andneglected. One, immediately above the arch, had been pasted up withbrown paper, and this was now peeling off in the rain, a little streamof which trickled down from the detached corner to drop, drearily, uponthe stone stairs beneath. 

Where were the detectives? I could only assume that they had directedtheir attention elsewhere, for had the place not been utterly deserted, surely I had been challenged. 

In pursuit of my new idea, I again descended the steps. The persuasion(shortly to be verified) that I was close upon the secret hold of theChinaman, grew stronger, unaccountably. I had descended some eightsteps, and was at the darkest part of the archway or tunnel, whenconfirmation of my theories came to me. 

A noose settled accurately upon my shoulders, was snatched tightly aboutmy throat, and with a feeling of insupportable agony at the base ofmy skull, and a sudden supreme knowledge that I was beingstrangled--hanged--I lost consciousness!

How long I remained unconscious, I was unable to determine at the time, but I learned later, that it was for no more than half an hour; at anyrate, recovery was slow. 

The first sensation to return to me was a sort of repetition ofthe asphyxia. The blood seemed to be forcing itself into my eyes--Ichoked--I felt that my end was come. And, raising my hands to my throat, I found it to be swollen and inflamed. Then the floor upon which I layseemed to be rocking like the deck of a ship, and I glided back againinto a place of darkness and forgetfulness. 

My second awakening was heralded by a returning sense of smell; for Ibecame conscious of a faint, exquisite perfume. 

It brought me to my senses as nothing else could have done, and I satupright with a hoarse cry. I could have distinguished that perfume amida thousand others, could have marked it apart from the rest in a scentbazaar. For me it had one meaning, and one meaning only--Karamaneh. 

She was near to me, or had been near to me!

And in the first moments of my awakening, I groped about in the darknessblindly seeking her. 

Then my swollen throat and throbbing head, together with my utterinability to move my neck even slightly, reminded me of the facts asthey were. I knew in that bitter moment that Karamaneh was no longer myfriend; but, for all her beauty and charm, was the most heartless, themost fiendish creature in the service of Dr. Fu-Manchu. I groaned aloudin my despair and misery. 

Something stirred, near to me in the room, and set my nerves creepingwith a new apprehension. I became fully alive to the possibilities ofthe darkness. 

To my certain knowledge, Dr. Fu-Manchu at this time had been in Englandfor fully three months, which meant that by now he must be equipped withall the instruments of destruction, animate and inanimate, which dreadexperience had taught me to associate with him. 

Now, as I crouched there in that dark apartment listening for arepetition of the sound, I scarcely dared to conjecture what might haveoccasioned it, but my imagination peopled the place with reptiles whichwrithed upon the floor, with tarantulas and other deadly insects whichcrept upon the walls, which might drop upon me from the ceiling at anymoment. 

Then, since nothing stirred about me, I ventured to move, turning myshoulders, for I was unable to move my aching head; and I looked in thedirection from which a faint, very faint, light proceeded. 

A regular tapping sound now began to attract my attention, and, havingturned about, I perceived that behind me was a broken window, in placespatched with brown paper; the corner of one sheet of paper was detached, and the rain trickled down upon it with a rhythmical sound. 

In a flash I realized that I lay in the room immediately above thearchway; and listening intently, I perceived above the other faintsounds of the night, or thought that I perceived, the hissing of the gasfrom the extinguished lamp-burner. 

Unsteadily I rose to my feet, but found myself swaying like a drunkenman. I reached out for support, stumbling in the direction of the wall. My foot came in contact with something that lay there, and I pitchedforward and fell.... 

I anticipated a crash which would put an end to my hopes of escape, butmy fall was comparatively noiseless--for I fell upon the body of a manwho lay bound up with rope close against the wall!

A moment I stayed as I fell, the chest of my fellow captive rising andfalling beneath me as he breathed. Knowing that my life dependedupon retaining a firm hold upon myself, I succeeded in overcoming thedizziness and nausea which threatened to drown my senses, and, movingback so that I knelt upon the floor, I fumbled in my pocket for theelectric lamp which I had placed there. My raincoat had been removedwhilst I was unconscious, and with it my pistol, but the lamp wasuntouched. 

I took it out, pressed the button, and directed the ray upon the face ofthe man beside me. 

It was Nayland Smith!

Trussed up and fastened to a ring in the wall he lay, having a cork gagstrapped so tightly between his teeth that I wondered how he had escapedsuffocation. 

But, although a grayish pallor showed through the tan of his skin, hiseyes were feverishly bright, and there, as I knelt beside him, I thankedheaven, silently but fervently. 

Then, in furious haste, I set to work to remove the gag. It was mostingeniously secured by means of leather straps buckled at the back ofhis head, but I unfastened these without much difficulty, and he spatout the gag, uttering an exclamation of disgust. 

"Thank God, old man!" he said, huskily. "Thank God that you are alive! Isaw them drag you in, and I thought... "

"I have been thinking the same about you for more than twenty-fourhours, " I said, reproachfully. "Why did you start without--"

"I did not want you to come, Petrie, " he replied. "I had a sort ofpremonition. You see it was realized; and instead of being as helplessas I, Fate has made you the instrument of my release. Quick! You have aknife? Good!" The old, feverish energy was by no means extinguishedin him. "Cut the ropes about my wrists and ankles, but don't otherwisedisturb them--"

I set to work eagerly. 

"Now, " Smith continued, "put that filthy gag in place again--but youneed not strap it so tightly! Directly they find that you are alive, they will treat you the same--you understand? She has been here threetimes--"

"Karamaneh?"... 

"Ssh!"

I heard a sound like the opening of a distant door. 

"Quick! the straps of the gag!" whispered Smith, "and pretend to recoverconsciousness just as they enter--"

Clumsily I followed his directions, for my fingers were none too steady, replaced the lamp in my pocket, and threw myself upon the floor. 

Through half-shut eyes, I saw the door open and obtained a glimpse ofa desolate, empty passage beyond. On the threshold stood Karamaneh. Sheheld in her hand a common tin oil lamp which smoked and flickered withevery movement, filling the already none too cleanly air with an odor ofburning paraffin. She personified the outre; nothing so incongruous asher presence in that place could well be imagined. She was dressed as Iremembered once to have seen her two years before, in the gauzy silks ofthe harem. There were pearls glittering like great tears amid the cloudof her wonderful hair. She wore broad gold bangles upon her bare arms, and her fingers were laden with jewelry. A heavy girdle swung from herhips, defining the lines of her slim shape, and about one white anklewas a gold band. 

As she appeared in the doorway I almost entirely closed my eyes, but mygaze rested fascinatedly upon the little red slippers which she wore. 

Again I detected the exquisite, elusive perfume, which, like a breathof musk, spoke of the Orient; and, as always, it played havoc with myreason, seeming to intoxicate me as though it were the very essence ofher loveliness. 

But I had a part to play, and throwing out one clenched hand so that myfist struck upon the floor, I uttered a loud groan, and made as if torise upon my knees. 

One quick glimpse I had of her wonderful eyes, widely opened and turnedupon me with such an enigmatical expression as set my heart leapingwildly--then, stepping back, Karamaneh placed the lamp upon the boardsof the passage and clapped her hands. 

As I sank upon the floor in assumed exhaustion, a Chinaman witha perfectly impassive face, and a Burman, whose pock-marked, evilcountenance was set in an apparently habitual leer, came running intothe room past the girl. 

With a hand which trembled violently, she held the lamp whilst the twoyellow ruffians tied me. I groaned and struggled feebly, fixing my gazeupon the lamp-bearer in a silent reproach which was by no means withoutits effect. 

She lowered her eyes, and I could see her biting her lip, whilst thecolor gradually faded from her cheeks. Then, glancing up again quickly, and still meeting that reproachful stare, she turned her head asidealtogether, and rested one hand upon the wall, swaying slightly as shedid so. 

It was a singular ordeal for more than one of that incongruous group;but in order that I may not be charged with hypocrisy or with seekingto hide my own folly, I confess, here, that when again I found myselfin darkness, my heart was leaping not because of the success of mystrategy, but because of the success of that reproachful glance whichI had directed toward the lovely, dark-eyed Karamaneh, toward thefaithless, evil Karamaneh! So much for myself. 

The door had not been closed ten seconds, ere Smith again was spittingout the gag, swearing under his breath, and stretching his cramped limbsfree from their binding. Within a minute from the time of my trussing, I was a free man again; save that look where I would--to right, to left, or inward, to my own conscience--two dark eyes met mine, enigmatically. 

"What now?" I whispered. 

"Let me think, " replied Smith. "A false move would destroy us. "

"How long have you been here?"

"Since last night. "

"Is Fu-Manchu--"

"Fu-Manchu is here!" replied Smith, grimly--"and not only Fu-Manchu, but--another. "

"Another!"

"A higher than Fu-Manchu, apparently. I have an idea of the identity ofthis person, but no more than an idea. Something unusual is going on, Petrie; otherwise I should have been a dead man twenty-four hoursago. Something even more important than my death engages Fu-Manchu'sattention--and this can only be the presence of the mysterious visitor. Your seductive friend, Karamaneh, is arrayed in her very becomingnational costume in his honor, I presume. " He stopped abruptly; thenadded: "I would give five hundred pounds for a glimpse of that visitor'sface!"

"Is Burke--"

"God knows what has become of Burke, Petrie! We were both caught nappingin the establishment of the amiable Shen-Yan, where, amid a very mixedcompany of poker players, we were losing our money like gentlemen. "

"But Weymouth--"

"Burke and I had both been neatly sand-bagged, my dear Petrie, andremoved elsewhere, some hours before Weymouth raided the gaming-house. Oh! I don't know how they smuggled us away with the police watching theplace; but my presence here is sufficient evidence of the fact. Are youarmed?"

"No; my pistol was in my raincoat, which is missing. "

In the dim light from the broken window, I could see Smith tuggingreflectively at the lobe of his left ear. 

"I am without arms, too, " he mused. "We might escape from the window--"

"It's a long drop!"

"Ah! I imagined so. If only I had a pistol, or a revolver--"

"What should you do?"

"I should present myself before the important meeting, which, I amassured, is being held somewhere in this building; and to-night wouldsee the end of my struggle with the Fu-Manchu group--the end of thewhole Yellow menace! For not only is Fu-Manchu here, Petrie, with allhis gang of assassins, but he whom I believe to be the real head of thegroup--a certain mandarin--is here also!"

CHAPTER XIII. THE SACRED ORDER

Smith stepped quietly across the room and tried the door. It proved tobe unlocked, and an instant later, we were both outside in the passage. Coincident with our arrival there, arose a sudden outcry from some placeat the westward end. A high-pitched, grating voice, in which gutturalnotes alternated with a serpent-like hissing, was raised in anger. 

"Dr. Fu-Manchu!" whispered Smith, grasping my arm. 

Indeed, it was the unmistakable voice of the Chinaman, raisedhysterically in one of those outbursts which in the past I had diagnosedas symptomatic of dangerous mania. 

The voice rose to a scream, the scream of some angry animal rather thananything human. Then, chokingly, it ceased. Another short sharp cryfollowed--but not in the voice of Fu-Manchu--a dull groan, and the soundof a fall. 

With Smith still grasping my wrist, I shrank back into the doorway, assomething that looked in the darkness like a great ball of fluff camerapidly along the passage toward me. Just at my feet the thing stoppedand I made it out for a small animal. The tiny, gleaming eyes looked upat me, and, chattering wickedly, the creature bounded past and was lostfrom view. 

It was Dr. Fu-Manchu's marmoset. 

Smith dragged me back into the room which we had just left. As he partlyreclosed the door, I heard the clapping of hands. In a condition ofmost dreadful suspense, we waited; until a new, ominous sound proclaimeditself. Some heavy body was being dragged into the passage. I heard theopening of a trap. Exclamations in guttural voices told of a heavy taskin progress; there was a great straining and creaking--whereupon thetrap was softly reclosed. 

Smith bent to my ear. 

"Fu-Manchu has chastised one of his servants, " he whispered. "There willbe food for the grappling-irons to-night!"

I shuddered violently, for, without Smith's words, I knew that a bloodydeed had been done in that house within a few yards of where we stood. 

In the new silence, I could hear the drip, drip, drip of the rainoutside the window; then a steam siren hooted dismally upon the river, and I thought how the screw of that very vessel, even as we listened, might be tearing the body of Fu-Manchu's servant!

"Have you some one waiting?" whispered Smith, eagerly. 

"How long was I insensible?"

"About half an hour. "

"Then the cabman will be waiting. "

"Have you a whistle with you?"

I felt in my coat pocket. 

"Yes, " I reported. 

"Good! Then we will take a chance. "

Again we slipped out into the passage and began a stealthy progressto the west. Ten paces amid absolute darkness, and we found ourselvesabreast of a branch corridor. At the further end, through a kind oflittle window, a dim light shone. 

"See if you can find the trap, " whispered Smith; "light your lamp. "

I directed the ray of the pocket-lamp upon the floor, and there at myfeet was a square wooden trap. As I stooped to examine it, I glancedback, painfully, over my shoulder--and saw Nayland Smith tiptoeing awayfrom me along the passage toward the light!

Inwardly I cursed his folly, but the temptation to peep in at thatlittle window proved too strong for me, as it had proved too strong forhim. 

Fearful that some board would creak beneath my tread, I followed; andside by side we two crouched, looking into a small rectangular room. Itwas a bare and cheerless apartment with unpapered walls and carpetlessfloor. A table and a chair constituted the sole furniture. 

Seated in the chair, with his back toward us, was a portly Chinaman whowore a yellow, silken robe. His face, it was impossible to see; but hewas beating his fist upon the table, and pouring out a torrent of wordsin a thin, piping voice. So much I perceived at a glance; then, intoview at the distant end of the room, paced a tall, high-shoulderedfigure--a figure unforgettable, at once imposing and dreadful, statelyand sinister. 

With the long, bony hands behind him, fingers twining and intertwiningserpentinely about the handle of a little fan, and with the pointed chinresting on the breast of the yellow robe, so that the light from thelamp swinging in the center of the ceiling gleamed upon the great, dome-like brow, this tall man paced somberly from left to right. 

He cast a sidelong, venomous glance at the voluble speaker out ofhalf-shut eyes; in the act they seemed to light up as with an internalluminance; momentarily they sparkled like emeralds; then theirbrilliance was filmed over as in the eyes of a bird when the membrane islowered. 

My blood seemed to chill, and my heart to double its pulsations;beside me Smith was breathing more rapidly than usual. I knew nowthe explanation of the feeling which had claimed me when first I haddescended the stone stairs. I knew what it was that hung like a miasmaover that house. It was the aura, the glamour, which radiated from thiswonderful and evil man as light radiates from radium. It was the vril, the force, of Dr. Fu-Manchu. 

I began to move away from the window. But Smith held my wrist as in avise. He was listening raptly to the torrential speech of the Chinamanwho sat in the chair; and I perceived in his eyes the light of a suddencomprehension. 

As the tall figure of the Chinese doctor came pacing into view again, Smith, his head below the level of the window, pushed me gently alongthe passage. 

Regaining the site of the trap, he whispered to me: "We owe our lives, Petrie, to the national childishness of the Chinese! A race of ancestorworshipers is capable of anything, and Dr. Fu-Manchu, the dreadful beingwho has rained terror upon Europe stands in imminent peril of disgracefor having lost a decoration. "

"What do you mean, Smith?"

"I mean that this is no time for delay, Petrie! Here, unless I amgreatly mistaken, lies the rope by means of which you made yourentrance. It shall be the means of your exit. Open the trap!"

Handling the lamp to Smith, I stooped and carefully raised thetrap-door. At which moment, a singular and dramatic thing happened. 

A softly musical voice--the voice of my dreams!--spoke. 

"Not that way! O God, not that way!"

In my surprise and confusion I all but let the trap fall, but I retainedsufficient presence of mind to replace it gently. Standing upright, Iturned... And there, with her little jeweled hand resting upon Smith'sarm, stood Karamaneh!

In all my experience of him, I had never seen Nayland Smith so utterlyperplexed. Between anger, distrust and dismay, he wavered; and eachpassing emotion was written legibly upon the lean bronzed features. Rigid with surprise, he stared at the beautiful face of the girl. She, although her hand still rested upon Smith's arm, had her dark eyesturned upon me with that same enigmatical expression. Her lips wereslightly parted, and her breast heaved tumultuously. 

This ten seconds of silence in which we three stood looking at oneanother encompassed the whole gamut of human emotion. The silence wasbroken by Karamaneh. 

"They will be coming back that way!" she whispered, bending eagerlytoward me. (How, in the most desperate moments, I loved to listen tothat odd, musical accent!) "Please, if you would save your life, andspare mine, trust me!"--She suddenly clasped her hands together andlooked up into my face, passionately--"Trust me--just for once--and Iwill show you the way!"

Nayland Smith never removed his gaze from her for a moment, nor did hestir. 

"Oh!" she whispered, tremulously, and stamped one little red slipperupon the floor. "Won't you heed me? Come, or it will be too late!"

I glanced anxiously at my friend; the voice of Dr. Fu-Manchu, now raisedin anger, was audible above the piping tones of the other Chinaman. And as I caught Smith's eye, in silent query--the trap at my feet beganslowly to lift!

Karamaneh stifled a little sobbing cry; but the warning came too late. A hideous yellow face with oblique squinting eyes, appeared in theaperture. 

I found myself inert, useless; I could neither think nor act. NaylandSmith, however, as if instinctively, delivered a pitiless kick at thehead protruding above the trap. 

A sickening crushing sound, with a sort of muffled snap, spoke of abroken jaw-bone; and with no word or cry, the Chinaman fell. As the trapdescended with a bang, I heard the thud of his body on the stone stairsbeneath. 

But we were lost. Karamaneh fled along one of the passages lightly as abird, and disappeared as Dr. Fu-Manchu, his top lip drawn up above histeeth in the manner of an angry jackal, appeared from the other. 

"This way!" cried Smith, in a voice that rose almost to a shriek--"thisway!"--and he led toward the room overhanging the steps. 

Off we dashed with panic swiftness, only to find that this retreat alsowas cut off. Dimly visible in the darkness was a group of yellow men, and despite the gloom, the curved blades of the knives which theycarried glittered menacingly. The passage was full of dacoits!

Smith and I turned, together. The trap was raised again, and the Burman, who had helped to tie me, was just scrambling up beside Dr. Fu-Manchu, who stood there watching us, a shadowy, sinister figure. 

"The game's up, Petrie!" muttered Smith. "It has been a long fight, butFu-Manchu wins!"

"Not entirely!" I cried. I whipped the police whistle from my pocket, and raised it to my lips; but brief as the interval had been, thedacoits were upon me. 

A sinewy brown arm shot over my shoulder and the whistle was dashed frommy grasp. Then came a whirl of maelstrom fighting with Smith and myselfever sinking lower amid a whirlpool, as it seemed, of blood-lustfuleyes, yellow fangs, and gleaming blades. 

I had some vague idea that the rasping voice of Fu-Manchu broke oncethrough the turmoil, and when, with my wrists tied behind me, I emergedfrom the strife to find myself lying beside Smith in the passage, Icould only assume that the Chinaman had ordered his bloody servants totake us alive; for saving numerous bruises and a few superficial cuts, Iwas unwounded. 

The place was utterly deserted again, and we two panting captives foundourselves alone with Dr. Fu-Manchu. The scene was unforgettable; thatdimly lighted passage, its extremities masked in shadow, and the tall, yellow-robed figure of the Satanic Chinaman towering over us where welay. 

He had recovered his habitual calm, and as I peered at him through thegloom I was impressed anew with the tremendous intellectual force of theman. He had the brow of a genius, the features of a born ruler; and evenin that moment I could find time to search my memory, and to discoverthat the face, saving the indescribable evil of its expression, wasidentical with that of Seti, the mighty Pharaoh who lies in the CairoMuseum. 

Down the passage came leaping and gamboling the doctor's marmoset. Uttering its shrill, whistling cry, it leaped onto his shoulder, clutched with its tiny fingers at the scanty, neutral-colored hairupon his crown, and bent forward, peering grotesquely into that still, dreadful face. 

Dr. Fu-Manchu stroked the little creature; and crooned to it, as amother to her infant. Only this crooning, and the labored breathing ofSmith and myself, broke that impressive stillness. 

Suddenly the guttural voice began:

"You come at an opportune time, Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith, andDr. Petrie; at a time when the greatest man in China flatters me witha visit. In my absence from home, a tremendous honor has been conferredupon me, and, in the hour of this supreme honor, dishonor and calamityhave befallen! For my services to China--the New China, the China of thefuture--I have been admitted by the Sublime Prince to the Sacred Orderof the White Peacock. "

Warming to his discourse, he threw wide his arms, hurling the chatteringmarmoset fully five yards along the corridor. 

"O god of Cathay!" he cried, sibilantly, "in what have I sinned thatthis catastrophe has been visited upon my head! Learn, my two dearfriends, that the sacred white peacock brought to these misty shores formy undying glory, has been lost to me! Death is the penalty of such asacrilege; death shall be my lot, since death I deserve. "

Covertly Smith nudged me with his elbow. I knew what the nudge wasdesigned to convey; he would remind me of his words--anent the childishtrifles which sway the life of intellectual China. 

Personally, I was amazed. That Fu-Manchu's anger, grief, sorrow andresignation were real, no one watching him, and hearing his voice, coulddoubt. 

He continued:

"By one deed, and one deed alone, may I win a lighter punishment. Byone deed, and the resignation of all my titles, all my lands, and all myhonors, may I merit to be spared to my work--which has only begun. "

I knew now that we were lost, indeed; these were confidences which ourgraves should hold inviolate! He suddenly opened fully those blazinggreen eyes and directed their baneful glare upon Nayland Smith. 

"The Director of the Universe, " he continued, softly, "has relentedtoward me. To-night, you die! To-night, the arch-enemy of our casteshall be no more. This is my offering--the price of redemption... "

My mind was working again, and actively. I managed to grasp thestupendous truth--and the stupendous possibility. 

Dr. Fu-Manchu was in the act of clapping his hands, when I spoke. 

"Stop!" I cried. 

He paused, and the weird film, which sometimes became visible in hiseyes, now obscured their greenness, and lent him the appearance of ablind man. 

"Dr. Petrie, " he said, softly, "I shall always listen to you withrespect. "

"I have an offer to make, " I continued, seeking to steady my voice. "Give us our freedom, and I will restore your shattered honor--I willrestore the sacred peacock!"

Dr. Fu-Manchu bent forward until his face was so close to mine that Icould see the innumerable lines which, an intricate network, covered hisyellow skin. 

"Speak!" he hissed. "You lift up my heart from a dark pit!"

"I can restore your white peacock, " I said; "I and I alone, know whereit is!"--and I strove not to shrink from the face so close to mine. 

Upright shot the tall figure; high above his head Fu-Manchu threwhis arms--and a light of exaltation gleamed in the now widely opened, catlike eyes. 

"O god!" he screamed, frenziedly--"O god of the Golden Age! like aphoenix I arise from the ashes of myself!" He turned to me. "Quick!Quick! make your bargain! End my suspense!"

Smith stared at me like a man dazed; but, ignoring him, I went on:

"You will release me, now, immediately. In another ten minutes it willbe too late; my friend will remain. One of your--servants--can accompanyme, and give the signal when I return with the peacock. Mr. NaylandSmith and yourself, or another, will join me at the corner of the streetwhere the raid took place last night. We shall then give you ten minutesgrace, after which we shall take whatever steps we choose. "

"Agreed!" cried Fu-Manchu. "I ask but one thing from an Englishman; yourword of honor?"

"I give it. "

"I, also, " said Smith, hoarsely. 

 * * * * *

Ten minutes later, Nayland Smith and I, standing beside the cab, whoselights gleamed yellowly through the mist, exchanged a struggling, frightened bird for our lives--capitulated with the enemy of the whiterace. 

With characteristic audacity--and characteristic trust in the Britishsense of honor--Dr. Fu-Manchu came in person with Nayland Smith, inresponse to the wailing signal of the dacoit who had accompanied me. Noword was spoken, save that the cabman suppressed a curse of amazement;and the Chinaman, his sinister servant at his elbow, bowed low--and leftus, surely to the mocking laughter of the gods!

CHAPTER XIV. THE COUGHING HORROR

I leaped up in bed with a great start. 

My sleep was troubled often enough in these days, which immediatelyfollowed our almost miraculous escape, from the den of Fu-Manchu; andnow as I crouched there, nerves aquiver--listening--listening--I couldnot be sure if this dank panic which possessed me had its origin innightmare or in something else. 

Surely a scream, a choking cry for help, had reached my ears; but now, almost holding my breath in that sort of nervous tensity peculiar to onearoused thus, I listened, and the silence seemed complete. Perhaps I hadbeen dreaming... 

"Help! Petrie! Help!... "

It was Nayland Smith in the room above me!

My doubts were dissolved; this was no trick of an imaginationdisordered. Some dreadful menace threatened my friend. Not delayingeven to snatch my dressing-gown, I rushed out on to the landing, up thestairs, bare-footed as I was, threw open the door of Smith's room andliterally hurled myself in. 

Those cries had been the cries of one assailed, had been uttered, Ijudged, in the brief interval of a life and death struggle; had beenchoked off... 

A certain amount of moonlight found access to the room, withoutspreading so far as the bed in which my friend lay. But at the momentof my headlong entrance, and before I had switched on the light, my gazeautomatically was directed to the pale moonbeam streaming through thewindow and down on to one corner of the sheep-skin rug beside the bed. 

There came a sound of faint and muffled coughing. 

What with my recent awakening and the panic at my heart, I could notclaim that my vision was true; but across this moonbeam passed a sort ofgray streak, for all the world as though some long thin shape had beenwithdrawn, snakelike, from the room, through the open window... Fromsomewhere outside the house, and below, I heard the cough again, followed by a sharp cracking sound like the lashing of a whip. 

I depressed the switch, flooding the room with light, and as I leapedforward to the bed a word picture of what I had seen formed in my mind;and I found that I was thinking of a gray feather boa. 

"Smith!" I cried (my voice seemed to pitch itself, unwilled, in a veryhigh key), "Smith, old man!"

He made no reply, and a sudden, sorrowful fear clutched at myheart-strings. He was lying half out of bed flat upon his back, his headat a dreadful angle with his body. As I bent over him and seized him bythe shoulders, I could see the whites of his eyes. His arms hung limply, and his fingers touched the carpet. 

"My God!" I whispered--"what has happened?"

I heaved him back onto the pillow, and looked anxiously into his face. Habitually gaunt, the flesh so refined away by the consuming nervousenergy of the man as to reveal the cheekbones in sharp prominence, henow looked truly ghastly. His skin was so sunbaked as to have changedconstitutionally; nothing could ever eradicate that tan. But to-night afearful grayness was mingled with the brown, his lips were purple... Andthere were marks of strangulation upon the lean throat--ever darkeningweals made by clutching fingers. 

He began to breathe stentoriously and convulsively, inhalation beingaccompanied by a significant gurgling in the throat. But now my calm wasrestored in face of a situation which called for professional attention. 

I aided my friend's labored respirations by the usual means, setting towork vigorously; so that presently he began to clutch at his inflamedthroat which that murderous pressure had threatened to close. 

I could hear sounds of movement about the house, showing that not Ialone had been awakened by those hoarse screams. 

"It's all right, old man, " I said, bending over him; "brace up!"

He opened his eyes--they looked bleared and bloodshot--and gave me aquick glance of recognition. 

"It's all right, Smith!" I said--"no! don't sit up; lie there for amoment. "

I ran across to the dressing-table, whereon I perceived his flask tolie, and mixed him a weak stimulant with which I returned to the bed. 

As I bent over him again, my housekeeper appeared in the doorway, paleand wide-eyed. 

"There is no occasion for alarm, " I said over my shoulder; "Mr. Smith'snerves are overwrought and he was awakened by some disturbing dream. Youcan return to bed, Mrs. Newsome. "

Nayland Smith seemed to experience much difficulty in swallowing thecontents of the tumbler which I held to his lips; and, from the way inwhich he fingered the swollen glands, I could see that his throat, which I had vigorously massaged, was occasioning him great pain. But thedanger was past, and already that glassy look was disappearing from hiseyes, nor did they protrude so unnaturally. 

"God, Petrie!" he whispered, "that was a near shave! I haven't thestrength of a kitten!"

"The weakness will pass off, " I replied; "there will be no collapse, now. A little more fresh air... "

I stood up, glancing at the windows, then back at Smith, who forced awry smile in answer to my look. 

"Couldn't be done, Petrie, " he said, huskily. 

His words referred to the state of the windows. Although the night wasoppressively hot, these were only opened some four inches at top andbottom. Further opening was impossible because of iron brackets screwedfirmly into the casements which prevented the windows being raised orlowered further. 

It was a precaution adopted after long experience of the servants of Dr. Fu-Manchu. 

Now, as I stood looking from the half-strangled man upon the bed tothose screwed-up windows, the fact came home to my mind that thisprecaution had proved futile. I thought of the thing which I had likenedto a feather boa; and I looked at the swollen weals made by clutchingfingers upon the throat of Nayland Smith. 

The bed stood fully four feet from the nearest window. 

I suppose the question was written in my face; for, as I turned againto Smith, who, having struggled upright, was still fingering his injuredthroat ruefully:

"God only knows, Petrie!" he said; "no human arm could have reachedme... "

For us, the night was ended so far as sleep was concerned. Arrayed inhis dressing-gown, Smith sat in the white cane chair in my study witha glass of brandy-and-water beside him, and (despite my officialprohibition) with the cracked briar which had sent up its incense inmany strange and dark places of the East and which yet survived toperfume these prosy rooms in suburban London, steaming between histeeth. I stood with my elbow resting upon the mantelpiece looking downat him where he sat. 

"By God! Petrie, " he said, yet again, with his fingers straying gentlyover the surface of his throat, "that was a narrow shave--a damnednarrow shave!"

"Narrower than perhaps you appreciate, old man, " I replied. "You were amost unusual shade of blue when I found you... "

"I managed, " said Smith evenly, "to tear those clutching fingers awayfor a moment and to give a cry for help. It was only for a moment, though. Petrie! they were fingers of steel--of steel!"

"The bed, " I began... 

"I know that, " rapped Smith. "I shouldn't have been sleeping in it, hadit been within reach of the window; but, knowing that the doctor avoidsnoisy methods, I had thought myself fairly safe so long as I made itimpossible for any one actually to enter the room... "

"I have always insisted, Smith, " I cried, "that there was danger! Whatof poisoned darts? What of the damnable reptiles and insects which formpart of the armory of Fu-Manchu?"

"Familiarity breeds contempt, I suppose, " he replied. "But as ithappened none of those agents was employed. The very menace that Isought to avoid reached me somehow. It would almost seem that Dr. Fu-Manchu deliberately accepted the challenge of those screwed-upwindows! Hang it all, Petrie! one cannot sleep in a room hermeticallysealed, in weather like this! It's positively Burmese; and although Ican stand tropical heat, curiously enough the heat of London gets medown almost immediately. "

"The humidity; that's easily understood. But you'll have to put up withit in the future. After nightfall our windows must be closed entirely, Smith. "

Nayland Smith knocked out his pipe upon the side of the fireplace. Thebowl sizzled furiously, but without delay he stuffed broad-cut mixtureinto the hot pipe, dropping a liberal quantity upon the carpet duringthe process. He raised his eyes to me, and his face was very grim. 

"Petrie, " he said, striking a match on the heel of his slipper, "theresources of Dr. Fu-Manchu are by no means exhausted. Before we quitthis room it is up to us to come to a decision upon a certain point. " Hegot his pipe well alight. "What kind of thing, what unnatural, distortedcreature, laid hands upon my throat to-night? I owe my life, primarily, to you, old man, but, secondarily, to the fact that I was awakened, justbefore the attack--by the creature's coughing--by its vile, high-pitchedcoughing... "

I glanced around at the books upon my shelves. Often enough, followingsome outrage by the brilliant Chinese doctor whose genius was directedto the discovery of new and unique death agents, we had obtained a cluein those works of a scientific nature which bulk largely in thelibrary of a medical man. There are creatures, there are drugs, which, ordinarily innocuous, may be so employed as to become inimical to humanlife; and in the distorting of nature, in the disturbing of balances andthe diverting of beneficent forces into strange and dangerous channels, Dr. Fu-Manchu excelled. I had known him to enlarge, by artificialculture, a minute species of fungus so as to render it a powerful agentcapable of attacking man; his knowledge of venomous insects has probablynever been paralleled in the history of the world; whilst, in the sphereof pure toxicology, he had, and has, no rival; the Borgias were childrenby comparison. But, look where I would, think how I might, no adequateexplanation of this latest outrage seemed possible along normal lines. 

"There's the clue, " said Nayland Smith, pointing to a little ash-trayupon the table near by. "Follow it if you can. "

But I could not. 

"As I have explained, " continued my friend, "I was awakened by a soundof coughing; then came a death grip on my throat, and instinctively myhands shot out in search of my attacker. I could not reach him; myhands came in contact with nothing palpable. Therefore I clutched at thefingers which were dug into my windpipe, and found them to be small--asthe marks show--and hairy. I managed to give that first cry forhelp, then with all my strength I tried to unfasten the grip that wasthrottling the life out of me. At last I contrived to move one of thehands, and I called out again, though not so loudly. Then both the handswere back again; I was weakening; but I clawed like a madman at thethin, hairy arms of the strangling thing, and with a blood-red mistdancing before my eyes, I seemed to be whirling madly round and rounduntil all became a blank. Evidently I used my nails pretty freely--andthere's the trophy. "

For the twentieth time, I should think, I carried the ash-tray in myhand and laid it immediately under the table-lamp in order to examineits contents. In the little brass bowl lay a blood-stained fragment ofgrayish hair attached to a tatter of skin. This fragment of epidermishad an odd bluish tinge, and the attached hair was much darker at theroots than elsewhere. Saving its singular color, it might have beentorn from the forearm of a very hirsute human; but although my thoughtswandered unfettered, north, south, east and west; although, knowing theresources of Fu-Manchu, I considered all the recognized Mongoliantypes, and, in quest of hirsute mankind, even roamed far north amongthe blubbering Esquimo; although I glanced at Australasia, at CentralAfrica, and passed in mental review the dark places of the Congo, nowhere in the known world, nowhere in the history of the human species, could I come upon a type of man answering to the description suggestedby our strange clue. 

Nayland Smith was watching me curiously as I bent over the little brassash-tray. 

"You are puzzled, " he rapped in his short way. 

"So am I--utterly puzzled. Fu-Manchu's gallery of monstrosities clearlyhas become reinforced; for even if we identified the type, we should notbe in sight of our explanation. "

"You mean, " I began... 

"Fully four feet from the window, Petrie, and that window but a fewinches open! Look"--he bent forward, resting his chest against thetable, and stretched out his hand toward me. "You have a rule there;just measure. "

Setting down the ash-tray, I opened out the rule and measured thedistance from the further edge of the table to the tips of Smith'sfingers. 

"Twenty-eight inches--and I have a long reach!" snapped Smith, withdrawing his arm and striking a match to relight his pipe. "There'sone thing, Petrie, often proposed before, which now we must do withoutdelay. The ivy must be stripped from the walls at the back. It's apity, but we can not afford to sacrifice our lives to our sense of theaesthetic. What do you make of the sound like the cracking of a whip?"

"I make nothing of it, Smith, " I replied, wearily. "It might have been athick branch of ivy breaking beneath the weight of a climber. "

"Did it sound like it?"

"I must confess that the explanation does not convince me, but I have nobetter one. "

Smith, permitting his pipe to go out, sat staring straight before him, and tugging at the lobe of his left ear. 

"The old bewilderment is seizing me, " I continued. "At first, when Irealized that Dr. Fu-Manchu was back in England, when I realized thatan elaborate murder-machine was set up somewhere in London, it seemedunreal, fantastical. Then I met--Karamaneh! She, whom we thought to behis victim, showed herself again to be his slave. Now, with Weymouth andScotland Yard at work, the old secret evil is established again in ourmidst, unaccountably--our lives are menaced--sleep is a danger--everyshadow threatens death... Oh! it is awful. "

Smith remained silent; he did not seem to have heard my words. I knewthese moods and had learnt that it was useless to seek to interruptthem. With his brows drawn down, and his deep-set eyes staring intospace, he sat there gripping his cold pipe so tightly that my own jawmuscles ached sympathetically. No man was better equipped than thisgaunt British Commissioner to stand between society and the menace ofthe Yellow Doctor; I respected his meditations, for, unlike my own, theywere informed by an intimate knowledge of the dark and secret things ofthe East, of that mysterious East out of which Fu-Manchu came, of thatjungle of noxious things whose miasma had been wafted Westward with theimplacable Chinaman. 

I walked quietly from the room, occupied with my own bitter reflections. 

CHAPTER XV. BEWITCHMENT

"You say you have two items of news for me?" said Nayland Smith, lookingacross the breakfast table to where Inspector Weymouth sat sippingcoffee. 

"There are two points--yes, " replied the Scotland Yard man, whilst Smithpaused, egg-spoon in hand, and fixed his keen eyes upon the speaker. "The first is this: the headquarters of the Yellow group is no longer inthe East End. "

"How can you be sure of that?"

"For two reasons. In the first place, that district must now be too hotto hold Dr. Fu-Manchu; in the second place, we have just completed ahouse-to-house inquiry which has scarcely overlooked a rathole or a rat. That place where you say Fu-Manchu was visited by some Chinese mandarin;where you, Mr. Smith, " and--glancing in my direction--"you, Doctor, wereconfined for a time--"

"Yes?" snapped Smith, attacking his egg. 

"Well, " continued the inspector, "it is all deserted, now. There is notthe slightest doubt that the Chinaman has fled to some other abode. I amcertain of it. My second piece of news will interest you very much, I amsure. You were taken to the establishment of the Chinaman, Shen-Yan, bya certain ex-officer of New York Police--Burke... "

"Good God!" cried Smith, looking up with a start; "I thought they hadhim!"

"So did I, " replied Weymouth grimly; "but they haven't! He got away inthe confusion following the raid, and has been hiding ever since with acousin, a nurseryman out Upminster way... "

"Hiding?" snapped Smith. 

"Exactly--hiding. He has been afraid to stir ever since, and hasscarcely shown his nose outside the door. He says he is watched nightand day. "

"Then how... "

"He realized that something must be done, " continued the inspector, "and made a break this morning. He is so convinced of this constantsurveillance that he came away secretly, hidden under the boxes of amarket-wagon. He landed at Covent Garden in the early hours of thismorning and came straight away to the Yard. "

"What is he afraid of exactly?"

Inspector Weymouth put down his coffee cup and bent forward slightly. 

"He knows something, " he said in a low voice, "and they are aware thathe knows it!"

"And what is this he knows?"

Nayland Smith stared eagerly at the detective. 

"Every man has his price, " replied Weymouth with a smile, "and Burkeseems to think that you are a more likely market than the policeauthorities. "

"I see, " snapped Smith. "He wants to see me?"

"He wants you to go and see him, " was the reply. "I think he anticipatesthat you may make a capture of the person or persons spying upon him. "

"Did he give you any particulars?"

"Several. He spoke of a sort of gipsy girl with whom he had a shortconversation one day, over the fence which divides his cousin's flowerplantations from the lane adjoining. "

"Gipsy girl!" I whispered, glancing rapidly at Smith. 

"I think you are right, Doctor, " said Weymouth with his slow smile; "itwas Karamaneh. She asked him the way to somewhere or other and got himto write it upon a loose page of his notebook, so that she should notforget it. "

"You hear that, Petrie?" rapped Smith. 

"I hear it, " I replied, "but I don't see any special significance in thefact. "

"I do!" rapped Smith; "I didn't sit up the greater part of last nightthrashing my weary brains for nothing! But I am going to the BritishMuseum to-day, to confirm a certain suspicion. " He turned to Weymouth. "Did Burke go back?" he demanded abruptly. 

"He returned hidden under the empty boxes, " was the reply. "Oh! younever saw a man in such a funk in all your life!"

"He may have good reasons, " I said. 

"He has good reasons!" replied Nayland Smith grimly; "if that man reallypossesses information inimical to the safety of Fu-Manchu, he can onlyescape doom by means of a miracle similar to that which has hithertoprotected you and me. "

"Burke insists, " said Weymouth at this point, "that something comesalmost every night after dusk, slinking about the house--it's an oldfarmhouse, I understand; and on two or three occasions he has beenawakened (fortunately for him he is a light sleeper) by sounds ofcoughing immediately outside his window. He is a man who sleeps with apistol under his pillow, and more than once, on running to the window, he has had a vague glimpse of some creature leaping down from the tilesof the roof, which slopes up to his room, into the flower beds below... "

"Creature!" said Smith, his gray eyes ablaze now--"you said creature!"

"I used the word deliberately, " replied Weymouth, "because Burke seemsto have the idea that it goes on all fours. "

There was a short and rather strained silence. Then:

"In descending a sloping roof, " I suggested, "a human being wouldprobably employ his hands as well as his feet. "

"Quite so, " agreed the inspector. "I am merely reporting the impressionof Burke. "

"Has he heard no other sound?" rapped Smith; "one like the cracking ofdry branches, for instance?"

"He made no mention of it, " replied Weymouth, staring. 

"And what is the plan?"

"One of his cousin's vans, " said Weymouth, with his slight smile, "hasremained behind at Covent Garden and will return late this afternoon. I propose that you and I, Mr. Smith, imitate Burke and ride down toUpminster under the empty boxes!"

Nayland Smith stood up, leaving his breakfast half finished, and beganto wander up and down the room, reflectively tugging at his ear. Then hebegan to fumble in the pockets of his dressing-gown and finally producedthe inevitable pipe, dilapidated pouch, and box of safety matches. Hebegan to load the much-charred agent of reflection. 

"Do I understand that Burke is actually too afraid to go out openly evenin daylight?" he asked suddenly. 

"He has not hitherto left his cousin's plantations at all, " repliedWeymouth. "He seems to think that openly to communicate with theauthorities, or with you, would be to seal his death warrant. "

"He's right, " snapped Smith. 

"Therefore he came and returned secretly, " continued the inspector; "andif we are to do any good, obviously we must adopt similar precautions. The market wagon, loaded in such a way as to leave ample space in theinterior for us, will be drawn up outside the office of Messrs. Pikeand Pike, in Covent Garden, until about five o'clock this afternoon. At, say, half past four, I propose that we meet there and embark upon thejourney. "

The speaker glanced in my direction interrogatively. 

"Include me in the program, " I said. "Will there be room in the wagon?"

"Certainly, " was the reply; "it is most commodious, but I cannotguarantee its comfort. "

Nayland Smith promenaded the room, unceasingly, and presently he walkedout altogether, only to return ere the inspector and I had had time toexchange more than a glance of surprise, carrying a brass ash-tray. Heplaced this on a corner of the breakfast table before Weymouth. 

"Ever seen anything like that?" he inquired. 

The inspector examined the gruesome relic with obvious curiosity, turning it over with the tip of his little finger and manifestingconsiderable repugnance--in touching it at all. Smith and I watchedhim in silence, and, finally, placing the tray again upon the table, helooked up in a puzzled way. 

"It's something like the skin of a water rat, " he said. 

Nayland Smith stared at him fixedly. 

"A water rat? Now that you come to mention it, I perceive a certainresemblance--yes. But"--he had been wearing a silk scarf about histhroat and now he unwrapped it--"did you ever see a water rat that couldmake marks like these?"

Weymouth started to his feet with some muttered exclamation. 

"What is this?" he cried. "When did it happen, and how?"

In his own terse fashion, Nayland Smith related the happenings of thenight. At the conclusion of the story:

"By heaven!" whispered Weymouth, "the thing on the roof--the coughingthing that goes on all fours, seen by Burke... "

"My own idea exactly!" cried Smith... 

"Fu-Manchu, " I said excitedly, "has brought some new, some dreadfulcreature, from Burma... "

"No, Petrie, " snapped Smith, turning upon me suddenly. "Not fromBurma--from Abyssinia. "

That day was destined to be an eventful one; a day never to be forgottenby any of us concerned in those happenings which I have to record. Earlyin the morning Nayland Smith set off for the British Museum topursue his mysterious investigations, and having performed my briefprofessional round (for, as Nayland Smith had remarked on one occasion, this was a beastly healthy district), I found, having made the necessaryarrangements, that, with over three hours to spare, I had nothing tooccupy my time until the appointment in Covent Garden Market. My lonelylunch completed, a restless fit seized me, and I felt unable to remainlonger in the house. Inspired by this restlessness, I attired myselffor the adventure of the evening, not neglecting to place a pistol inmy pocket, and, walking to the neighboring Tube station, I booked toCharing Cross, and presently found myself rambling aimlessly along thecrowded streets. Led on by what link of memory I know not, I presentlydrifted into New Oxford Street, and looked up with a start--to learnthat I stood before the shop of a second-hand book-seller where once twoyears before I had met Karamaneh. 

The thoughts conjured up at that moment were almost too bitter to beborne, and without so much as glancing at the books displayed for sale, I crossed the roadway, entered Museum Street, and, rather in order todistract my mind than because I contemplated any purchase, began toexamine the Oriental Pottery, Egyptian statuettes, Indian armor, andother curios, displayed in the window of an antique dealer. 

But, strive as I would to concentrate my mind upon the objects in thewindow, my memories persistently haunted me, and haunted me to theexclusion even of the actualities. The crowds thronging the Pavement, the traffic in New Oxford Street, swept past unheeded; my eyes sawnothing of pot nor statuette, but only met, in a misty imaginativeworld, the glance of two other eyes--the dark and beautiful eyes ofKaramaneh. In the exquisite tinting of a Chinese vase dimly perceptiblein the background of the shop, I perceived only the blushing cheeksof Karamaneh; her face rose up, a taunting phantom, from out of thedarkness between a hideous, gilded idol and an Indian sandalwood screen. 

I strove to dispel this obsessing thought, resolutely fixing myattention upon a tall Etruscan vase in the corner of the window, near tothe shop door. Was I losing my senses indeed? A doubt of my own sanitymomentarily possessed me. For, struggle as I would to dispel theillusion--there, looking out at me over that ancient piece of pottery, was the bewitching face of the slave-girl!

Probably I was glaring madly, and possibly I attracted the notice of thepassers-by; but of this I cannot be certain, for all my attention wascentered upon that phantasmal face, with the cloudy hair, slightlyparted red lips, and the brilliant dark eyes which looked into mine outof the shadows of the shop. 

It was bewildering--it was uncanny; for, delusion or verity, the glamourprevailed. I exerted a great mental effort, stepped to the door, turnedthe handle, and entered the shop with as great a show of composure as Icould muster. 

A curtain draped in a little door at the back of one counter swayedslightly, with no greater violence than may have been occasioned bythe draught. But I fixed my eyes upon this swaying curtain almostfiercely... As an impassive half-caste of some kind who appeared to be astrange cross between a Graeco-Hebrew and a Japanese, entered and quiteunemotionally faced me, with a slight bow. 

So wholly unexpected was this apparition that I started back. 

"Can I show you anything, sir?" inquired the new arrival, with a secondslight inclination of the head. 

I looked at him for a moment in silence. Then:

"I thought I saw a lady of my acquaintance here a moment ago, " I said. "Was I mistaken?"

"Quite mistaken, sir, " replied the shopman, raising his black eyebrowsever so slightly; "a mistake possibly due to a reflection in the window. Will you take a look around now that you are here?"

"Thank you, " I replied, staring him hard in the face; "at some othertime. "

I turned and quitted the shop abruptly. Either I was mad, or Karamanehwas concealed somewhere therein. 

However, realizing my helplessness in the matter, I contented myselfwith making a mental note of the name which appeared above theestablishment--J. Salaman--and walked on, my mind in a chaotic conditionand my heart beating with unusual rapidity. 

CHAPTER XVI. THE QUESTING HANDS

Within my view, from the corner of the room where I sat in deepestshadow, through the partly opened window (it was screwed, like our own)were rows of glass-houses gleaming in the moonlight, and, beyond them, orderly ranks of flower-beds extending into a blue haze of distance. Byreason of the moon's position, no light entered the room, but my eyes, from long watching, were grown familiar with the darkness, and I couldsee Burke quite clearly as he lay in the bed between my post and thewindow. I seemed to be back again in those days of the troubled pastwhen first Nayland Smith and I had come to grips with the servants ofDr. Fu-Manchu. A more peaceful scene than this flower-planted cornerof Essex it would be difficult to imagine; but, either because of myknowledge that its peace was chimerical, or because of that outflungconsciousness of danger which, actually, or in my imagination, precededthe coming of the Chinaman's agents, to my seeming the silence throbbedelectrically and the night was laden with stilly omens. 

Already cramped by my journey in the market-cart, I found it difficultto remain very long in any one position. What information had Burketo sell? He had refused, for some reason, to discuss the matter thatevening, and now, enacting the part allotted him by Nayland Smith, hefeigned sleep consistently, although at intervals he would whisper to mehis doubts and fears. 

All the chances were in our favor to-night; for whilst I could not doubtthat Dr. Fu-Manchu was set upon the removal of the ex-officer of NewYork police, neither could I doubt that our presence in the farm wasunknown to the agents of the Chinaman. According to Burke, constantattempts had been made to achieve Fu-Manchu's purpose, and had only beenfrustrated by his (Burke's) wakefulness. 

There was every probability that another attempt would be made to-night. 

Any one who has been forced by circumstance to undertake such a vigil asthis will be familiar with the marked changes (corresponding withphases of the earth's movement) which take place in the atmosphere, atmidnight, at two o'clock, and again at four o'clock. During those fourshours falls a period wherein all life is at its lowest ebb, and everyPhysician is aware that there is a greater likelihood of a patient'spassing between midnight and four A. M. , than at any other period duringthe cycle of the hours. 

To-night I became specially aware of this lowering of vitality, andnow, with the night at that darkest phase which precedes the dawn, anindescribable dread, such as I had known before in my dealings withthe Chinaman, assailed me, when I was least prepared to combat it. Thestillness was intense. Then:

"Here it is!" whispered Burke from the bed. 

The chill at the very center of my being, which but corresponded withthe chill of all surrounding nature at that hour, became intensified, keener, at the whispered words. 

I rose stealthily out of my chair, and from my nest of shadowswatched--watched intently, the bright oblong of the window... 

Without the slightest heralding sound--a black silhouette crept upagainst the pane... The silhouette of a small, malformed head, adog-like head, deep-set in square shoulders. Malignant eyes peeredintently in. Higher it arose--that wicked head--against the window, then crouched down on the sill and became less sharply defined asthe creature stooped to the opening below. There was a faint sound ofsniffing. 

Judging from the stark horror which I experienced, myself, I doubted, now, if Burke could sustain the role allotted him. In beneath theslightly raised window came a hand, perceptible to me despite thedarkness of the room. It seemed to project from the black silhouetteoutside the pane, to be thrust forward--and forward--and forward... Thatsmall hand with the outstretched fingers. 

The unknown possesses unique terrors; and since I was unable to conceivewhat manner of thing this could be, which, extending its incredibly longarms, now sought the throat of the man upon the bed, I tasted of thatsort of terror which ordinarily one knows only in dreams. 

"Quick, sir--quick!" screamed Burke, starting up from the pillow. 

The questing hands had reached his throat!

Choking down an urgent dread that I had of touching the thing whichreached through the window to kill the sleeper, I sprang across the roomand grasped the rigid, hairy forearms. 

Heavens! Never have I felt such muscles, such tendons, as those beneaththe hirsute skin! They seemed to be of steel wire, and with a suddenfrightful sense of impotence, I realized that I was as powerless as achild to relax that strangle-hold. Burke was making the most frightfulsounds and quite obviously was being asphyxiated before my eyes!

"Smith!" I cried, "Smith! Help! help! for God's sake!"

Despite the confusion of my mind I became aware of sounds outside andbelow me. Twice the thing at the window coughed; there was an incessant, lash-like cracking, then some shouted words which I was unable to makeout; and finally the staccato report of a pistol. 

Snarling like that of a wild beast came from the creature with the hairyarms, together with renewed coughing. But the steel grip relaxed not oneiota. 

I realized two things: the first, that in my terror at the suddenness ofthe attack I had omitted to act as pre-arranged: the second, that I haddiscredited the strength of the visitant, whilst Smith had foreseen it. 

Desisting in my vain endeavor to pit my strength against that of thenameless thing, I sprang back across the room and took up the weaponwhich had been left in my charge earlier in the night, but which I hadbeen unable to believe it would be necessary to employ. This was a sharpand heavy axe, which Nayland Smith, when I had met him in Covent Garden, had brought with him, to the great amazement of Weymouth and myself. 

As I leaped back to the window and uplifted this primitive weapon, asecond shot sounded from below, and more fierce snarling, coughing, andguttural mutterings assailed my ears from beyond the pane. 

Lifting the heavy blade, I brought it down with all my strength upon thenearer of those hairy arms where it crossed the window-ledge, severingmuscle, tendon and bone as easily as a knife might cut cheese.... 

A shriek--a shriek neither human nor animal, but gruesomely compoundedof both--followed... And merged into a choking cough. Like a flash theother shaggy arm was withdrawn, and some vaguely-seen body went rollingdown the sloping red tiles and crashed on to the ground beneath. 

With a second piercing shriek, louder than that recently utteredby Burke, wailing through the night from somewhere below, I turneddesperately to the man on the bed, who now was become significantlysilent. A candle, with matches, stood upon a table hard by, and, my fingers far from steady, I set about obtaining a light. Thisaccomplished, I stood the candle upon the little chest-of-drawers andreturned to Burke's side. 

"Merciful God!" I cried. 

Of all the pictures which remain in my memory, some of them dark enough, I can find none more horrible than that which now confronted me in thedim candle-light. Burke lay crosswise on the bed, his head thrown backand sagging; one rigid hand he held in the air, and with the othergrasped the hairy forearm which I had severed with the ax; for, in adeath-grip, the dead fingers were still fastened, vise-like, at histhroat. 

His face was nearly black, and his eyes projected from their socketshorribly. Mastering my repugnance, I seized the hideous piece ofbleeding anatomy and strove to release it. It defied all my efforts; indeath it was as implacable as in life. I took a knife from my pocket, and, tendon by tendon, cut away that uncanny grip from Burke's throat... 

But my labor was in vain. Burke was dead!

I think I failed to realize this for some time. My clothes weresticking clammily to my body; I was bathed in perspiration, and, shakingfuriously, I clutched at the edge of the window, avoiding the bloodypatch upon the ledge, and looked out over the roofs to where, in themore distant plantations, I could hear excited voices. What had beenthe meaning of that scream which I had heard but to which in my franticstate of mind I had paid comparatively little attention?

There was a great stirring all about me. 

"Smith!" I cried from the window; "Smith, for mercy's sake where areyou?"

Footsteps came racing up the stairs. Behind me the door burst open andNayland Smith stumbled into the room. 

"God!" he said, and started back in the doorway. 

"Have you got it, Smith?" I demanded hoarsely. "In sanity's name what isit--what is it?"

"Come downstairs, " replied Smith quietly, "and see for yourself. " Heturned his head aside from the bed. 

Very unsteadily I followed him down the stairs and through the ramblingold house out into the stone-paved courtyard. There were figuresmoving at the end of a long alleyway between the glass houses, and one, carrying a lantern, stooped over something which lay upon the ground. 

"That's Burke's cousin with the lantern, " whispered Smith in my ear;"don't tell him yet. "

I nodded, and we hurried up to join the group. I found myself lookingdown at one of those thick-set Burmans whom I always associated withFu-Manchu's activities. He lay quite flat, face downward; but the backof his head was a shapeless blood-dotted mass, and a heavy stock-whip, the butt end ghastly because of the blood and hair which clung to it, lay beside him. I started back appalled as Smith caught my arm. 

"It turned on its keeper!" he hissed in my ear. "I wounded it twice frombelow, and you severed one arm; in its insensate fury, its unreasoningmalignity, it returned--and there lies its second victim... "

"Then... "

"It's gone, Petrie! It has the strength of four men even now. Look!"

He stooped, and from the clenched left hand of the dead Burman, extracted a piece of paper and opened it. 

"Hold the lantern a moment, " he said. 

In the yellow light he glanced at the scrap of paper. 

"As I expected--a leaf of Burke's notebook; it worked by scent. " Heturned to me with an odd expression in his gray eyes. "I wonder whatpiece of my personal property Fu-Manchu has pilfered, " he said, "inorder to enable it to sleuth me?"

He met the gaze of the man holding the lantern. 

"Perhaps you had better return to the house, " he said, looking himsquarely in the eyes. 

The other's face blanched. 

"You don't mean, sir--you don't mean... "

"Brace up!" said Smith, laying his hand upon his shoulder. "Remember--hechose to play with fire!"

One wild look the man cast from Smith to me, then went off, staggering, toward the farm. 

"Smith, " I began... 

He turned to me with an impatient gesture. 

"Weymouth has driven into Upminster, " he snapped; "and the wholedistrict will be scoured before morning. They probably motored here, butthe sounds of the shots will have enabled whoever was with the car tomake good his escape. And exhausted from loss of blood, its capture isonly a matter of time, Petrie. "

CHAPTER XVII. ONE DAY IN RANGOON

Nayland Smith returned from the telephone. Nearly twenty-four hours hadelapsed since the awful death of Burke. 

"No news, Petrie, " he said, shortly. "It must have crept into someinaccessible hole to die. "

I glanced up from my notes. Smith settled into the white cane armchair, and began to surround himself with clouds of aromatic smoke. I took upa half-sheet of foolscap covered with penciled writing in my friend'scramped characters, and transcribed the following, in order to completemy account of the latest Fu-Manchu outrage:

"The Amharun, a Semitic tribe allied to the Falashas, who havebeen settled for many generations in the southern province of Shoa(Abyssinia) have been regarded as unclean and outcast, apparently sincethe days of Menelek--son of Suleyman and the Queen of Sheba--from whomthey claim descent. Apart from their custom of eating meat cut fromliving beasts, they are accursed because of their alleged associationwith the Cynocephalus hamadryas (Sacred Baboon). I, myself, was takento a hut on the banks of the Hawash and shown a creature... Whosepredominant trait was an unreasoning malignity toward... And a ferocioustenderness for the society of its furry brethren. Its powers of scentwere fully equal to those of a bloodhound, whilst its abnormally longforearms possessed incredible strength... A Cynocephalyte such as this, contracts phthisis even in the more northern provinces of Abyssinia... "

"You have not explained to me, Smith, " I said, having completed thisnote, "how you got in touch with Fu-Manchu; how you learnt that he wasnot dead, as we had supposed, but living--active. "

Nayland Smith stood up and fixed his steely eyes upon me with anindefinable expression in them. Then:

"No, " he replied; "I haven't. Do you wish to know?"

"Certainly, " I said with surprise; "is there any reason why I shouldnot?"

"There is no real reason, " said Smith; "or"--staring at me very hard--"Ihope there is no real reason. "

"What do you mean?"

"Well"--he grabbed up his pipe from the table and began furiously toload it--"I blundered upon the truth one day in Rangoon. I was walkingout of a house which I occupied there for a time, and as I swung aroundthe corner into the main street, I ran into--literally ran into... "

Again he hesitated oddly; then closed up his pouch and tossed it intothe cane chair. He struck a match. 

"I ran into Karamaneh, " he continued abruptly, and began to puff away athis pipe, filling the air with clouds of tobacco smoke. 

I caught my breath. This was the reason why he had kept me so long inignorance of the story. He knew of my hopeless, uncrushable sentimentstoward the gloriously beautiful but utterly hypocritical and evilEastern girl who was perhaps the most dangerous of all Dr. Fu-Manchu'sservants; for the power of her loveliness was magical, as I knew to mycost. 

"What did you do?" I asked quietly, my fingers drumming upon the table. 

"Naturally enough, " continued Smith, "with a cry of recognition Iheld out both my hands to her, gladly. I welcomed her as a dear friendregained; I thought of the joy with which you would learn that I hadfound the missing one; I thought how you would be in Rangoon just asquickly as the fastest steamer could get you there... "

"Well?"

"Karamaneh started back and treated me to a glance of absoluteanimosity. No recognition was there, and no friendliness--only a sort ofscornful anger. "

He shrugged his shoulders and began to walk up and down the room. 

"I do not know what you would have done in the circumstances, Petrie, but I--"

"Yes?"

"I dealt with the situation rather promptly, I think. I simply pickedher up without another word, right there in the public street, and racedback into the house, with her kicking and fighting like a little demon!She did not shriek or do anything of that kind, but fought silently likea vicious wild animal. Oh! I had some scars, I assure you; but I carriedher up into my office, which fortunately was empty at the time, plumpedher down in a chair, and stood looking at her. "

"Go on, " I said rather hollowly; "what next?"

"She glared at me with those wonderful eyes, an expression of implacablehatred in them! Remembering all that we had done for her; rememberingour former friendship; above all, remembering you--this look of hersalmost made me shiver. She was dressed very smartly in European fashion, and the whole thing had been so sudden that as I stood looking at her Ihalf expected to wake up presently and find it all a day-dream. But itwas real--as real as her enmity. I felt the need for reflection, andhaving vainly endeavored to draw her into conversation, and elicited noother answer than this glare of hatred--I left her there, going out andlocking the door behind me. "

"Very high-handed?"

"A commissioner has certain privileges, Petrie, and any action I mightchoose to take was not likely to be questioned. There was only onewindow to the office, and it was fully twenty feet above the level; itoverlooked a narrow street off the main thoroughfare (I think I haveexplained that the house stood on a corner) so I did not fear herescaping. I had an important engagement which I had been on my way tofulfil when the encounter took place, and now, with a word to my nativeservant--who chanced to be downstairs--I hurried off. "

Smith's pipe had gone out as usual, and he proceeded to relight it, whilst, with my eyes lowered, I continued to drum upon the table. 

"This boy took her some tea later in the afternoon, " he continued, "and apparently found her in a more placid frame of mind. I returnedimmediately after dusk, and he reported that when last he had looked in, about half an hour earlier, she had been seated in an armchair readinga newspaper (I may mention that everything of value in the office wassecurely locked up!) I was determined upon a certain course by thistime, and I went slowly upstairs, unlocked the door, and walked into thedarkened office. I turned up the light... The place was empty!"

"Empty!"

"The window was open, and the bird flown! Oh! it was not so simple aflight--as you would realize if you knew the place. The street, whichthe window overlooked, was bounded by a blank wall, on the oppositeside, for thirty or forty yards along; and as we had been having heavyrains, it was full of glutinous mud. Furthermore, the boy whom I hadleft in charge had been sitting in the doorway immediately below theoffice window watching for my return ever since his last visit to theroom above... "

"She must have bribed him, " I said bitterly--"or corrupted him with herinfernal blandishments. "

"I'll swear she did not, " rapped Smith decisively. "I know my man, andI'll swear she did not. There were no marks in the mud of the road toshow that a ladder had been placed there; moreover, nothing of the kindcould have been attempted whilst the boy was sitting in the doorway;that was evident. In short, she did not descend into the roadway and didnot come out by the door... "

"Was there a gallery outside the window?"

"No; it was impossible to climb to right or left of the window or up onto the roof. I convinced myself of that. "

"But, my dear man!" I cried, "you are eliminating every natural mode ofegress! Nothing remains but flight. "

"I am aware, Petrie, that nothing remains but flight; in other words Ihave never to this day understood how she quitted the room. I only knowthat she did. "

"And then?"

"I saw in this incredible escape the cunning hand of Dr. Fu-Manchu--sawit at once. Peace was ended; and I set to work along certain channelswithout delay. In this manner I got on the track at last, and learned, beyond the possibility of doubt, that the Chinese doctor lived--nay! wasactually on his way to Europe again!"

There followed a short silence. Then:

"I suppose it's a mystery that will be cleared up some day, " concludedSmith; "but to date the riddle remains intact. " He glanced at the clock. "I have an appointment with Weymouth; therefore, leaving you to the taskof solving this problem which thus far has defied my own efforts, I willget along. "

He read a query in my glance. 

"Oh! I shall not be late, " he added; "I think I may venture out alone onthis occasion without personal danger. "

Nayland Smith went upstairs to dress, leaving me seated at my writingtable, deep in thought. My notes upon the renewed activity of Dr. Fu-Manchu were stacked at my left hand, and, opening a new writingblock, I commenced to add to them particulars of this surprising eventin Rangoon which properly marked the opening of the Chinaman's secondcampaign. Smith looked in at the door on his way out, but seeing me thusengaged, did not disturb me. 

I think I have made it sufficiently evident in these records that mypractice was not an extensive one, and my hour for receiving patientsarrived and passed with only two professional interruptions. 

My task concluded, I glanced at the clock, and determined to devote theremainder of the evening to a little private investigation of my own. From Nayland Smith I had preserved the matter a secret, largely becauseI feared his ridicule; but I had by no means forgotten that I had seen, or had strongly imagined that I had seen, Karamaneh--that beautifulanomaly, who (in modern London) asserted herself to be a slave--in theshop of an antique dealer not a hundred yards from the British Museum!

A theory was forming in my brain, which I was burningly anxious to putto the test. I remembered how, two years before, I had met Karamanehnear to this same spot; and I had heard Inspector Weymouth assertpositively that Fu-Manchu's headquarters were no longer in the EastEnd, as of yore. There seemed to me to be a distinct probability that asuitable center had been established for his reception in this place, somuch less likely to be suspected by the authorities. Perhaps I attachedtoo great a value to what may have been a delusion; perhaps my theoryrested upon no more solid foundation than the belief that I had seenKaramaneh in the shop of the curio dealer. If her appearance thereshould prove to have been phantasmal, the structure of my theory wouldbe shattered at its base. To-night I should test my premises, and uponthe result of my investigations determine my future action. 

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SILVER BUDDHA

Museum Street certainly did not seem a likely spot for Dr. Fu-Manchu toestablish himself, yet, unless my imagination had strangely deceived me, from the window of the antique dealer who traded under the name of J. Salaman, those wonderful eyes of Karamaneh like the velvet midnight ofthe Orient, had looked out at me. 

As I paced slowly along the pavement toward that lighted window, myheart was beating far from normally, and I cursed the folly which, in spite of all, refused to die, but lingered on, poisoning mylife. Comparative quiet reigned in Museum Street, at no time a busythoroughfare, and, excepting another shop at the Museum end, commercialactivities had ceased there. The door of a block of residential chambersalmost immediately opposite to the shop which was my objective, threwout a beam of light across the pavement, but not more than two or threepeople were visible upon either side of the street. 

I turned the knob of the door and entered the shop. 

The same dark and immobile individual whom I had seen before, and whosenationality defied conjecture, came out from the curtained doorway atthe back to greet me. 

"Good evening, sir, " he said monotonously, with a slight inclination ofthe head; "is there anything which you desire to inspect?"

"I merely wish to take a look around, " I replied. "I have no particularitem in view. "

The shop man inclined his head again, swept a yellow handcomprehensively about, as if to include the entire stock, and seatedhimself on a chair behind the counter. 

I lighted a cigarette with such an air of nonchalance as I could summonto the operation, and began casually to inspect the varied objects ofinterest loading the shelves and tables about me. I am bound to confessthat I retain no one definite impression of this tour. Vases I handled, statuettes, Egyptian scarabs, bead necklaces, illuminated missals, portfolios of old prints, jade ornaments, bronzes, fragments of rarelace, early printed books, Assyrian tablets, daggers, Roman rings, anda hundred other curiosities, leisurely, and I trust with apparentinterest, yet without forming the slightest impression respecting anyone of them. 

Probably I employed myself in this way for half an hour or more, andwhilst my hands busied themselves among the stock of J. Salaman, my mindwas occupied entirely elsewhere. Furtively I was studying the shopmanhimself, a human presentment of a Chinese idol; I was listening andwatching; especially I was watching the curtained doorway at the back ofthe shop. 

"We close at about this time, sir, " the man interrupted me, speaking inthe emotionless, monotonous voice which I had noted before. 

I replaced upon the glass counter a little Sekhet boat, carved in woodand highly colored, and glanced up with a start. Truly my methods wereamateurish; I had learnt nothing; I was unlikely to learn anything. Iwondered how Nayland Smith would have conducted such an inquiry, and Iracked my brains for some means of penetrating into the recesses of theestablishment. Indeed, I had been seeking such a plan for the past halfan hour, but my mind had proved incapable of suggesting one. 

Why I did not admit failure I cannot imagine, but, instead, I began totax my brains anew for some means of gaining further time; and, asI looked about the place, the shopman very patiently awaiting mydeparture, I observed an open case at the back of the counter. The threelower shelves were empty, but upon the fourth shelf squatted a silverBuddha. 

"I should like to examine the silver image yonder, " I said; "what priceare you asking for it?"

"It is not for sale, sir, " replied the man, with a greater show ofanimation than he had yet exhibited. 

"Not for sale!" I said, my eyes ever seeking the curtained doorway;"how's that?"

"It is sold. "

"Well, even so, there can be no objection to my examining it?"

"It is not for sale, sir. "

Such a rebuff from a tradesman would have been more than sufficientto call for a sharp retort at any other time, but now it excited thestrangest suspicions. The street outside looked comparatively deserted, and prompted, primarily, by an emotion which I did not pause to analyze, I adopted a singular measure; without doubt I relied upon the unusualpowers vested in Nayland Smith to absolve me in the event of error. I made as if to go out into the street, then turned, leaped past theshopman, ran behind the counter, and grasped at the silver Buddha!

That I was likely to be arrested for attempted larceny I cared not;the idea that Karamaneh was concealed somewhere in the buildingruled absolutely, and a theory respecting this silver image had takenpossession of my mind. Exactly what I expected to happen at that momentI cannot say, but what actually happened was far more startling thananything I could have imagined. 

At the instant that I grasped the figure I realized that it was attachedto the woodwork; in the next I knew that it was a handle ... As I triedto pull it toward me I became aware that this handle was the handle of adoor. For that door swung open before me, and I found myself at the footof a flight of heavily carpeted stairs. 

Anxious as I had been to proceed a moment before, I was now treblyanxious to retire, and for this reason: on the bottom step of the stair, facing me, stood Dr. Fu-Manchu!

CHAPTER XIX. DR. FU-MANCHU'S LABORATORY

I cannot conceive that any ordinary mortal ever attained to anythinglike an intimacy with Dr. Fu-Manchu; I cannot believe that any man couldever grow used to his presence, could ever cease to fear him. I supposeI had set eyes upon Fu-Manchu some five or six times prior to thisoccasion, and now he was dressed in the manner which I always associatedwith him, probably because it was thus I first saw him. He wore a plainyellow robe, and, with his pointed chin resting upon his bosom, helooked down at me, revealing a great expanse of the marvelous brow withits sparse, neutral-colored hair. 

Never in my experience have I known such force to dwell in the glanceof any human eye as dwelt in that of this uncanny being. His singularaffliction (if affliction it were), the film or slight membrane whichsometimes obscured the oblique eyes, was particularly evident at themoment that I crossed the threshold, but now, as I looked up at Dr. Fu-Manchu, it lifted--revealing the eyes in all their emerald greenness. 

The idea of physical attack upon this incredible being seemedchildish--inadequate. But, following that first instant of stupefaction, I forced myself to advance upon him. 

A dull, crushing blow descended on the top of my skull, and I becameoblivious of all things. 

My return to consciousness was accompanied by tremendous pains in myhead, whereby, from previous experience, I knew that a sandbag had beenused against me by some one in the shop, presumably by the immobileshopman. This awakening was accompanied by none of those hazy doubtsrespecting previous events and present surroundings which are the usualsymptoms of revival from sudden unconsciousness; even before I openedmy eyes, before I had more than a partial command of my senses, I knewthat, with my wrists handcuffed behind me, I lay in a room whichwas also occupied by Dr. Fu-Manchu. This absolute certainty of theChinaman's presence was evidenced, not by my senses, but only by aninner consciousness, and the same that always awoke into life at theapproach not only of Fu-Manchu in person but of certain of his uncannyservants. 

A faint perfume hung in the air about me; I do not mean that of anyessence or of any incense, but rather the smell which is suffusedby Oriental furniture, by Oriental draperies; the indefinable butunmistakable perfume of the East. 

Thus, London has a distinct smell of its own, and so has Paris, whilstthe difference between Marseilles and Suez, for instance, is even moremarked. 

Now, the atmosphere surrounding me was Eastern, but not of the East thatI knew; rather it was Far Eastern. Perhaps I do not make myself veryclear, but to me there was a mysterious significance in that perfumedatmosphere. I opened my eyes. 

I lay upon a long low settee, in a fairly large room which was furnishedas I had anticipated in an absolutely Oriental fashion. The two windowswere so screened as to have lost, from the interior point of view, allresemblance to European windows, and the whole structure of the room hadbeen altered in conformity, bearing out my idea that the place had beenprepared for Fu-Manchu's reception some time before his actual return. Idoubt if, East or West, a duplicate of that singular apartment could befound. 

The end in which I lay, was, as I have said, typical of an Easternhouse, and a large, ornate lantern hung from the ceiling almost directlyabove me. The further end of the room was occupied by tall cases, some of them containing books, but the majority filled with scientificparaphernalia; rows of flasks and jars, frames of test-tubes, retorts, scales, and other objects of the laboratory. At a large and very finelycarved table sat Dr. Fu-Manchu, a yellow and faded volume open beforehim, and some dark red fluid, almost like blood, bubbling in a test-tubewhich he held over the flame of a Bunsen-burner. 

The enormously long nail of his right index finger rested upon theopened page of the book to which he seemed constantly to refer, dividinghis attention between the volume, the contents of the test-tube, and theprogress of a second experiment, or possibly a part of the same, whichwas taking place upon another corner of the littered table. 

A huge glass retort (the bulb was fully two feet in diameter), fittedwith a Liebig's Condenser, rested in a metal frame, and within the bulb, floating in an oily substance, was a fungus some six inches high, shapedlike a toadstool, but of a brilliant and venomous orange color. Threeflat tubes of light were so arranged as to cast violet rays upward intothe retort, and the receiver, wherein condensed the product of thisstrange experiment, contained some drops of a red fluid which may havebeen identical with that boiling in the test-tube. 

These things I perceived at a glance: then the filmy eyes of Dr. Fu-Manchu were raised from the book, turned in my direction, and allelse was forgotten. 

"I regret, " came the sibilant voice, "that unpleasant measures werenecessary, but hesitation would have been fatal. I trust, Dr. Petrie, that you suffer no inconvenience?"

To this speech no reply was possible, and I attempted none. 

"You have long been aware of my esteem for your acquirements, " continuedthe Chinaman, his voice occasionally touching deep guttural notes, "andyou will appreciate the pleasure which this visit affords me. I kneelat the feet of my silver Buddha. I look to you, when you shall haveovercome your prejudices--due to ignorance of my true motives--to assistme in establishing that intellectual control which is destined to be thenew World Force. I bear you no malice for your ancient enmity, and evennow"--he waved one yellow hand toward the retort--"I am conducting anexperiment designed to convert you from your misunderstanding, and toadjust your perspective. "

Quite unemotionally he spoke, then turned again to his book, histest-tube and retort, in the most matter-of-fact way imaginable. I donot think the most frenzied outburst on his part, the most fiendishthreats, could have produced such effect upon me as those cold andcarefully calculated words, spoken in that unique voice which rang aboutthe room sibilantly. In its tones, in the glance of the green eyes, in the very pose of the gaunt, high-shouldered body, there waspower--force. 

I counted myself lost, and in view of the doctor's words, studied theprogress of the experiment with frightful interest. But a few momentssufficed in which to realize that, for all my training, I knew as littleof chemistry--of chemistry as understood by this man's genius--as ajunior student in surgery knows of trephining. The process inoperation was a complete mystery to me; the means and the end alikeincomprehensible. 

Thus, in the heavy silence of that room, a silence only broken by theregular bubbling from the test tube, I found my attention straying fromthe table to the other objects surrounding it; and at one of them mygaze stopped and remained chained with horror. 

It was a glass jar, some five feet in height and filled with viscousfluid of a light amber color. Out from this peered a hideous, dog-likeface, low browed, with pointed ears and a nose almost hoggishly flat. By the death-grin of the face the gleaming fangs were revealed; and thebody, the long yellow-gray body, rested, or seemed to rest, uponshort, malformed legs, whilst one long limp arm, the right, hung downstraightly in the preservative. The left arm had been severed above theelbow. 

Fu-Manchu, finding his experiment to be proceeding favorably, lifted hiseyes to me again. 

"You are interested in my poor Cynocephalyte?" he said; and his eyeswere filmed like the eyes of one afflicted with cataract. "He was adevoted servant, Dr. Petrie, but the lower influences in his genealogy, sometimes conquered. Then he got out of hand; and at last he was soungrateful toward those who had educated him, that, in one of thoseparoxysms of his, he attacked and killed a most faithful Burman, one ofmy oldest followers. "

Fu-Manchu returned to his experiment. 

Not the slightest emotion had he exhibited thus far, but had chattedwith me as any other scientist might chat with a friend who casuallyvisits his laboratory. The horror of the thing was playing havoc withmy own composure, however. There I lay, fettered, in the same room withthis man whose existence was a menace to the entire white race, whilstplacidly he pursued an experiment designed, if his own words werebelievable, to cut me off from my kind--to wreak some change, psychological or physiological I knew not; to place me, it mightbe, upon a level with such brute-things as that which now hung, halffloating, in the glass jar!

Something I knew of the history of that ghastly specimen, that thingneither man nor ape; for within my own knowledge had it not attemptedthe life of Nayland Smith, and was it not I who, with an ax, had maimedit in the instant of one of its last slayings?

Of these things Dr. Fu-Manchu was well aware, so that his placid speechwas doubly, trebly horrible to my ears. I sought, furtively, to movemy arms, only to realize that, as I had anticipated, the handcuffswere chained to a ring in the wall behind me. The establishments of Dr. Fu-Manchu were always well provided with such contrivances as these. 

I uttered a short, harsh laugh. Fu-Manchu stood up slowly from thetable, and, placing the test-tube in a rack, stood the latter carefullyupon a shelf at his side. 

"I am happy to find you in such good humor, " he said softly. "Otheraffairs call me; and, in my absence, that profound knowledge ofchemistry, of which I have had evidence in the past, will enable you tofollow with intelligent interest the action of these violet rays uponthis exceptionally fine specimen of Siberian amanita muscaria. At somefuture time, possibly when you are my guest in China--which country I amnow making arrangements for you to visit--I shall discuss with you somelesser-known properties of this species; and I may say that one of yourfirst tasks when you commence your duties as assistant in my laboratoryin Kiang-su, will be to conduct a series of twelve experiments, which Ihave outlined, into other potentialities of this unique fungus. "

He walked quietly to a curtained doorway, with his cat-like yet awkwardgait, lifted the drapery, and, with a slight nod in my direction, wentout of the room. 

CHAPTER XX. THE CROSS BAR

How long I lay there alone I had no means of computing. My mind wasbusy with many matters, but principally concerned with my fate in theimmediate future. That Dr. Fu-Manchu entertained for me a singularkind of regard, I had had evidence before. He had formed the erroneousopinion that I was an advanced scientist who could be of use to himin his experiments and I was aware that he cherished a project oftransporting me to some place in China where his principal laboratorywas situated. Respecting the means which he proposed to employ, I wasunlikely to forget that this man, who had penetrated further alongcertain byways of science than seemed humanly possible, undoubtedly wasmaster of a process for producing artificial catalepsy. It was my lot, then, to be packed in a chest (to all intents and purposes a dead manfor the time being) and despatched to the interior of China!

What a fool I had been. To think that I had learned nothing from my longand dreadful experience of the methods of Dr. Fu-Manchu; to think that Ihad come alone in quest of him; that, leaving no trace behind me, I haddeliberately penetrated to his secret abode!

I have said that my wrists were manacled behind me, the manacles beingattached to a chain fastened in the wall. I now contrived, with extremedifficulty, to reverse the position of my hands; that is to say, Iclimbed backward through the loop formed by my fettered arms, so thatinstead of their being locked behind me, they now were locked in front. 

Then I began to examine the fetters, learning, as I had anticipated, that they fastened with a lock. I sat gazing at the steel bracelets inthe light of the lamp which swung over my head, and it became apparentto me that I had gained little by my contortion. 

A slight noise disturbed these unpleasant reveries. It was nothing lessthan the rattling of keys!

For a moment I wondered if I had heard aright, or if the sound portendedthe coming of some servant of the doctor, who was locking up theestablishment for the night. The jangling sound was repeated, and insuch a way that I could not suppose it to be accidental. Some one wasdeliberately rattling a small bunch of keys in an adjoining room. 

And now my heart leaped wildly--then seemed to stand still. 

With a low whistling cry a little gray shape shot through the doorway bywhich Fu-Manchu had retired, and rolled, like a ball of fluff blown bythe wind, completely under the table which bore the weird scientificappliances of the Chinaman; the advent of the gray object wasaccompanied by a further rattling of keys. 

My fear left me, and a mighty anxiety took its place. This creaturewhich now crouched chattering at me from beneath the big table wasFu-Manchu's marmoset, and in the intervals of its chattering andgrimacing, it nibbled, speculatively, at the keys upon the ring whichit clutched in its tiny hands. Key after key it sampled in this manner, evincing a growing dissatisfaction with the uncrackable nature of itsfind. 

One of those keys might be that of the handcuffs!

I could not believe that the tortures of Tantulus were greater thanwere mine at this moment. In all my hopes of rescue or release, Ihad included nothing so strange, so improbable as this. A sort of awepossessed me; for if by this means the key which should release meshould come into my possession, how, ever again, could I doubt abeneficent Providence?

But they were not yet in my possession; moreover, the key of thehandcuffs might not be amongst the bunch. 

Were there no means whereby I could induce the marmoset to approach me?

Whilst I racked my brains for some scheme, the little animal took thematter out of my hands. Tossing the ring with its jangling contentsa yard or so across the carpet in my direction, it leaped in pursuit, picked up the ring, whirled it over its head, and then threw a completesomersault around it. Now it snatched up the keys again, and holdingthem close to its ear, rattled them furiously. Finally, with anincredible spring, it leaped onto the chain supporting the lamp abovemy head, and with the garish shade swinging and spinning wildly, clungthere looking down at me like an acrobat on a trapeze. The tiny, bluishface, completely framed in grotesque whiskers, enhanced the illusion ofan acrobatic comedian. Never for a moment did it release its hold uponthe key-ring. 

My suspense now was intolerable. I feared to move, lest, alarming themarmoset, it should run off again, taking the keys with it. So as I laythere, looking up at the little creature swinging above me, the secondwonder of the night came to pass. 

A voice that I could never forget, strive how I would, a voice thathaunted my dreams by night, and for which by day I was ever listening, cried out from some adjoining room. 

"Ta'ala hina!" it called. "Ta'ala hina, Peko!"

It was Karamaneh!

The effect upon the marmoset was instantaneous. Down came the bunch ofkeys upon one side of the shade, almost falling on my head, and downleaped the ape upon the other. In two leaps it had traversed the roomand had vanished through the curtained doorway. 

If ever I had need of coolness it was now; the slightest mistake wouldbe fatal. The keys had slipped from the mattress of the divan, and nowlay just beyond reach of my fingers. Rapidly I changed my position, andsought, without undue noise, to move the keys with my foot. 

I had actually succeeded in sliding them back on to the mattress, when, unheralded by any audible footstep, Karamaneh came through the doorway, holding the marmoset in her arms. She wore a dress of fragile muslinmaterial, and out from its folds protruded one silk-stockinged foot, resting in a high-heeled red shoe.... 

For a moment she stood watching me, with a sort of enforced composure;then her glance strayed to the keys lying upon the floor. Slowly, andwith her eyes fixed again upon my face, she crossed the room, stooped, and took up the key-ring. 

It was one of the poignant moments of my life; for by that simple actall my hopes had been shattered!

Any poor lingering doubt that I may have had, left me now. Had theslightest spark of friendship animated the bosom of Karamaneh mostcertainly she would have overlooked the presence of the keys--of thekeys which represented my one hope of escape from the clutches of thefiendish Chinaman. 

There is a silence more eloquent than words. For half a minute or more, Karamaneh stood watching me--forcing herself to watch me--and I lookedup at her with a concentrated gaze in which rage and reproach must havebeen strangely mingled. What eyes she had!--of that blackly lustroussort nearly always associated with unusually dark complexions; butKaramaneh's complexion was peachlike, or rather of an exquisite anddelicate fairness which reminded me of the petal of a rose. By some Ihad been accused of raving about this girl's beauty, but only by thosewho had not met her; for indeed she was astonishingly lovely. 

At last her eyes fell, the long lashes drooped upon her cheeks. Sheturned and walked slowly to the chair in which Fu-Manchu had sat. Placing the keys upon the table amid the scientific litter, she restedone dimpled elbow upon the yellow page of the book, and with her chin inher palm, again directed upon me that enigmatical gaze. 

I dared not think of the past, of the past in which this beautiful, treacherous girl had played a part; yet, watching her, I could notbelieve, even now, that she was false! My state was truly a pitiableone; I could have cried out in sheer anguish. With her long lashespartly lowered, she watched me awhile, then spoke; and her voice wasmusic which seemed to mock me; every inflection of that elusive accentreopened, lancet-like, the ancient wound. 

"Why do you look at me so?" she said, almost in a whisper. "By whatright do you reproach me?--Have you ever offered me friendship, that Ishould repay you with friendship? When first you came to the house whereI was, by the river--came to save some one from" (there was the familiarhesitation which always preceded the name of Fu-Manchu) "from--him, youtreated me as your enemy, although--I would have been your friend... "

There was appeal in the soft voice, but I laughed mockingly, and threwmyself back upon the divan. 

Karamaneh stretched out her hands toward me, and I shall never forgetthe expression which flashed into those glorious eyes; but, seeing meintolerant of her appeal, she drew back and quickly turned her headaside. Even in this hour of extremity, of impotent wrath, I could findno contempt in my heart for her feeble hypocrisy; with all theold wonder I watched that exquisite profile, and Karamaneh's verydeceitfulness was a salve--for had she not cared she would not haveattempted it!

Suddenly she stood up, taking the keys in her hands, and approached me. 

"Not by word, nor by look, " she said, quietly, "have you asked for myfriendship, but because I cannot bear you to think of me as you do, Iwill prove that I am not the hypocrite and the liar you think me. Youwill not trust me, but I will trust you. "

I looked up into her eyes, and knew a pagan joy when they falteredbefore my searching gaze. She threw herself upon her knees beside me, and the faint exquisite perfume inseparable from my memories of her, became perceptible, and seemed as of old to intoxicate me. The lockclicked... And I was free. 

Karamaneh rose swiftly to her feet as I stood upright and outstretchedmy cramped arms. For one delirious moment her bewitching face was closeto mine, and the dictates of madness almost ruled; but I clenched myteeth and turned sharply aside. I could not trust myself to speak. 

With Fu-Manchu's marmoset again gamboling before us, she walked throughthe curtained doorway into the room beyond. It was in darkness, butI could see the slave-girl in front of me, a slim silhouette, as shewalked to a screened window, and, opening the screen in the manner of afolding door, also threw up the window. 

"Look!" she whispered. 

I crept forward and stood beside her. I found myself looking down intoMuseum Street from a first-floor window! Belated traffic still passedalong New Oxford Street on the left, but not a solitary figure wasvisible to the right, as far as I could see, and that was nearly to therailings of the Museum. Immediately opposite, in one of the flats whichI had noticed earlier in the evening, another window was opened. Iturned, and in the reflected light saw that Karamaneh held a cord in herhand. Our eyes met in the semi-darkness. 

She began to haul the cord into the window, and, looking upward, Iperceived that it was looped in some way over the telegraph cables whichcrossed the street at that point. It was a slender cord, and it appearedto be passed across a joint in the cables almost immediately above thecenter of the roadway. As it was hauled in, a second and stronger lineattached to it was pulled, in turn, over the cables, and thence in bythe window. Karamaneh twisted a length of it around a metal bracketfastened in the wall, and placed a light wooden crossbar in my hand. 

"Make sure that there is no one in the street, " she said, craning outand looking to right and left, "then swing across. The length of therope is just sufficient to enable you to swing through the open windowopposite, and there is a mattress inside to drop upon. But release thebar immediately, or you may be dragged back. The door of the room inwhich you will find yourself is unlocked, and you have only to walk downthe stairs and out into the street. "

I peered at the crossbar in my hand, then looked hard at the girl besideme. I missed something of the old fire of her nature; she was verysubdued, tonight. 

"Thank you, Karamaneh, " I said, softly. 

She suppressed a little cry as I spoke her name, and drew back into theshadows. 

"I believe you are my friend, " I said, "but I cannot understand. Won'tyou help me to understand?"

I took her unresisting hand, and drew her toward me. My very soul seemedto thrill at the contact of her lithe body... 

She was trembling wildly and seemed to be trying to speak, but althoughher lips framed the words no sound followed. Suddenly comprehension cameto me. I looked down into the street, hitherto deserted... And into theupturned face of Fu-Manchu. 

Wearing a heavy fur-collared coat, and with his yellow, malignantcountenance grotesquely horrible beneath the shade of a large tweedmotor cap, he stood motionless, looking up at me. That he had seen me, Icould not doubt; but had he seen my companion?

In a choking whisper Karamaneh answered my unspoken question. 

"He has not seen me! I have done much for you; do in return a smallthing for me. Save my life!"

She dragged me back from the window and fled across the room to theweird laboratory where I had lain captive. Throwing herself upon thedivan, she held out her white wrists and glanced significantly at themanacles. 

"Lock them upon me!" she said, rapidly. "Quick! quick!"

Great as was my mental disturbance, I managed to grasp the purpose ofthis device. The very extremity of my danger found me cool. I fastenedthe manacles, which so recently had confined my own wrists, upon theslim wrists of Karamaneh. A faint and muffled disturbance, doublyominous because there was nothing to proclaim its nature, reached mefrom some place below, on the ground floor. 

"Tie something around my mouth!" directed Karamaneh with nervousrapidity. As I began to look about me:--"Tear a strip from my dress, "she said; "do not hesitate--be quick! be quick!"

I seized the flimsy muslin and tore off half a yard or so from the hemof the skirt. The voice of Dr Fu-Manchu became audible. He was speakingrapidly, sibilantly, and evidently was approaching--would be upon mein a matter of moments. I fastened the strip of fabric over the girl'smouth and tied it behind, experiencing a pang half pleasurable and halffearful as I found my hands in contact with the foamy luxuriance of herhair. 

Dr. Fu-Manchu was entering the room immediately beyond. 

Snatching up the bunch of keys, I turned and ran, for in another instantmy retreat would be cut off. As I burst once more into the darkenedroom I became aware that a door on the further side of it was open;and framed in the opening was the tall, high-shouldered figure of theChinaman, still enveloped in his fur coat and wearing the grotesquecap. As I saw him, so he perceived me; and as I sprang to the window, headvanced. 

I turned desperately and hurled the bunch of keys with all my force intothe dimly-seen face... 

Either because they possessed a chatoyant quality of their own (as I hadoften suspected), or by reason of the light reflected through the openwindow, the green eyes gleamed upon me vividly like those of a giantcat. One short guttural exclamation paid tribute to the accuracy ofmy aim; then I had the crossbar in my hand. I threw one leg acrossthe sill, and dire as was my extremity, hesitated for an instant eretrusting myself to the flight... 

A vise-like grip fastened upon my left ankle. 

Hazily I became aware that the dark room was flooded with figures. Thewhole yellow gang were upon me--the entire murder-group composed ofunits recruited from the darkest place of the East!

I have never counted myself a man of resource, and have always enviedNayland Smith his possession of that quality, in him extraordinarilydeveloped; but on this occasion the gods were kind to me, and Iresorted to the only device, perhaps, which could have saved me. Withoutreleasing my hold upon the crossbar, I clutched at the ledge with thefingers of both hands and swung back into the room my right leg, whichwas already across the sill. With all my strength I kicked out. My heelcame in contact, in sickening contact, with a human head; beyond doubtthat I had split the skull of the man who held me. 

The grip upon my ankle was released automatically; and now consigningall my weight to the rope I slipped forward, as a diver, across thebroad ledge and found myself sweeping through the night like a wingedthing... 

The line, as Karamaneh had assured me, was of well-judged length. Down Iswept to within six or seven feet of the street level, then up, at everdecreasing speed, toward the vague oblong of the open window beyond. 

I hope I have been successful, in some measure, in portraying the variedemotions which it was my lot to experience that night, and it may wellseem that nothing more exquisite could remain for me. Yet it was writtenotherwise; for as I swept up to my goal, describing the inevitable arcwhich I had no power to check, I saw that one awaited me. 

Crouching forward half out of the open window was a Burmese dacoit, across-eyed, leering being whom I well remembered to have encounteredtwo years before in my dealings with Dr. Fu-Manchu. One bare, sinewyarm held rigidly at right angles before his breast, he clutched a longcurved knife and waited--waited--for the critical moment when my throatshould be at his mercy!

I have said that a strange coolness had come to my aid; even now it didnot fail me, and so incalculably rapid are the workings of the humanmind that I remember complimenting myself upon an achievement whichSmith himself could not have bettered, and this in the immeasurableinterval which intervened between the commencement of my upward swingand my arrival on a level with the window. 

I threw my body back and thrust my feet forward. As my legs went throughthe opening, an acute pain in one calf told me that I was not to escapescatheless from the night's melee. But the dacoit went rolling over inthe darkness of the room, as helpless in face of that ramrod stroke asthe veriest infant... 

Back I swept upon my trapeze, a sight to have induced any passingcitizen to question his sanity. With might and main I sought to checkthe swing of the pendulum, for if I should come within reach of thewindow behind I doubted not that other knives awaited me. It was nodifficult feat, and I succeeded in checking my flight. Swinging thereabove Museum Street I could even appreciate, so lucid was my mind, theludicrous element of the situation. 

I dropped. My wounded leg almost failed me; and greatly shaken, butwith no other serious damage, I picked myself up from the dust of theroadway. It was a mockery of Fate that the problem which Nayland Smithhad set me to solve, should have been solved thus; for I could not doubtthat by means of the branch of a tall tree or some other suitable objectsituated opposite to Smith's house in Rangoon, Karamaneh had made herescape as tonight I had made mine. 

Apart from the acute pain in my calf I knew that the dacoit's knife hadbitten deeply, by reason of the fact that a warm liquid was tricklingdown into my boot. Like any drunkard I stood there in the middle of theroad looking up at the vacant window where the dacoit had been, and upat the window above the shop of J. Salaman where I knew Fu-Manchu to be. But for some reason the latter window had been closed or almost closed, and as I stood there this reason became apparent to me. 

The sound of running footsteps came from the direction of New OxfordStreet. I turned--to see two policemen bearing down upon me!

This was a time for quick decisions and prompt action. I weighed allthe circumstances in the balance, and made the last vital choice of thenight; I turned and ran toward the British Museum as though the worst ofFu-Manchu's creatures, and not my allies the police, were at my heels!

No one else was in sight, but, as I whirled into the Square, the redlamp of a slowly retreating taxi became visible some hundred yards tothe left. My leg was paining me greatly, but the nature of the wounddid not interfere with my progress; therefore I continued my headlongcareer, and ere the police had reached the end of Museum Street I had myhand upon the door handle of the cab--for, the Fates being persistentlykind to me, the vehicle was for hire. 

"Dr. Cleeve's, Harley Street!" I shouted at the man. "Drive like hell!It's an urgent case. "

I leaped into the cab. 

Within five seconds from the time that I slammed the door and droppedback panting upon the cushions, we were speeding westward toward thehouse of the famous pathologist, thereby throwing the police hopelesslyoff the track. 

Faintly to my ears came the purr of a police whistle. The taxi-manevidently did not hear the significant sound. Merciful Providence hadrung down the curtain; for to-night my role in the yellow drama wasfinished. 

CHAPTER XXI. CRAGMIRE TOWER

Less than two hours later, Inspector Weymouth and a party of men fromScotland Yard raided the house in Museum Street. They found the stockof J. Salaman practically intact, and, in the strangely appointed roomsabove, every evidence of a hasty outgoing. But of the instruments, drugsand other laboratory paraphernalia not one item remained. I would gladlyhave given my income for a year, to have gained possession of the books, alone; for, beyond all shadow of doubt, I knew them to contain formulacalculated to revolutionize the science of medicine. 

Exhausted, physically and mentally, and with my mind awhispering-gallery of conjectures (it were needless for me to mentionwhom respecting) I turned in, gratefully, having patched up the slightwound in my calf. 

I seemed scarcely to have closed my eyes, when Nayland Smith was shakingme into wakefulness. 

"You are probably tired out, " he said; "but your crazy expedition oflast night entitles you to no sympathy. Read this; there is a trainin an hour. We will reserve a compartment and you can resume yourinterrupted slumbers in a corner seat. "

As I struggled upright in bed, rubbing my eyes sleepily, Smith handedme the Daily Telegraph, pointing to the following paragraph upon theliterary page:

Messrs. M---- announce that they will publish shortly the long delayedwork of Kegan Van Roon, the celebrated American traveler, Orientalistand psychic investigator, dealing with his recent inquiries in China. Itwill be remembered that Mr. Van Roon undertook to motor from Cantonto Siberia last winter, but met with unforeseen difficulties in theprovince of Ho-Nan. He fell into the hands of a body of fanatics and wasfortunate to escape with his life. His book will deal in particular withhis experiences in Ho-Nan, and some sensational revelations regardingthe awakening of that most mysterious race, the Chinese, are promised. For reasons of his own he has decided to remain in England until thecompletion of his book (which will be published simultaneously in NewYork and London) and has leased Cragmire Tower, Somersetshire, in whichromantic and historical residence he will collate his notes andprepare for the world a work ear-marked as a classic even before it ispublished. 

I glanced up from the paper, to find Smith's eyes fixed upon me, inquiringly. 

"From what I have been able to learn, " he said, evenly, "we should reachSaul, with decent luck, just before dusk. "

As he turned, and quitted the room without another word, I realized, ina flash, the purport of our mission; I understood my friend's ominouscalm, betokening suppressed excitement. 

The Fates were with us (or so it seemed); and whereas we had not hopedto gain Saul before sunset, as a matter of fact, the autumn afternoonwas in its most glorious phase as we left the little village with itsoldtime hostelry behind us and set out in an easterly direction, withthe Bristol Channel far away on our left and a gently sloping upland onour right. 

The crooked high-street practically constituted the entire hamlet ofSaul, and the inn, "The Wagoners, " was the last house in the street. Now, as we followed the ribbon of moor-path to the top of the rise, wecould stand and look back upon the way we had come; and although we hadcovered fully a mile of ground, it was possible to detect the sunlightgleaming now and then upon the gilt lettering of the inn sign as itswayed in the breeze. The day had been unpleasantly warm, but wasrelieved by this same sea breeze, which, although but slight, had in itthe tang of the broad Atlantic. Behind us, then, the foot-path slopeddown to Saul, unpeopled by any living thing; east and northeast swelledthe monotony of the moor right out to the hazy distance where the skybegan and the sea remotely lay hidden; west fell the gentle gradientfrom the top of the slope which we had mounted, and here, as far as theeye could reach, the country had an appearance suggestive of a hugeand dried-up lake. This idea was borne out by an odd blotchiness, forsometimes there would be half a mile or more of seeming moorland, thena sharply defined change (or it seemed sharply defined from thatbird's-eye point of view). A vivid greenness marked these changes, whichmerged into a dun-colored smudge and again into the brilliant green;then the moor would begin once more. 

"That will be the Tor of Glastonbury, I suppose, " said Smith, suddenlypeering through his field-glasses in an easterly direction; "and yonder, unless I am greatly mistaken, is Cragmire Tower. "

Shading my eyes with my hand, I also looked ahead, and saw the place forwhich we were bound; one of those round towers, more common in Ireland, which some authorities have declared to be of Phoenician origin. Ramshackle buildings clustered untidily about its base, and to it a sortof tongue of that oddly venomous green which patched the lowlands, shotout and seemed almost to reach the towerbase. The land for miles aroundwas as flat as the palm of my hand, saving certain hummocks, lessertors, and irregular piles of boulders which dotted its expanse. Hillsand uplands there were in the hazy distance, forming a sort of mightyinland bay which I doubted not in some past age had been covered bythe sea. Even in the brilliant sunlight the place had something ofa mournful aspect, looking like a great dried-up pool into which thechildren of giants had carelessly cast stones. 

We met no living soul upon the moor. With Cragmire Tower but a quarterof a mile off, Smith paused again, and raising his powerful glassesswept the visible landscape. 

"Not a sign. Petrie, " he said, softly; "yet... "

Dropping the glasses back into their case, my companion began to tug athis left ear. 

"Have we been over-confident?" he said, narrowing his eyes inspeculative fashion. "No less than three times I have had the idea thatsomething, or some one, has just dropped out of sight, behind me, as Ifocused... "

"What do you mean, Smith?"

"Are we"--he glanced about him as though the vastness were peopled withlistening Chinamen--"followed?"

Silently we looked into one another's eyes, each seeking for the dreadwhich neither had named. Then:

"Come on Petrie!" said Smith, grasping my arm; and at quick march wewere off again. 

Cragmire Tower stood upon a very slight eminence, and what had lookedlike a green tongue, from the moorland slopes above, was in fact acreek, flanked by lush land, which here found its way to the sea. The house which we were come to visit consisted in a low, two-storybuilding, joining the ancient tower on the east with two smalleroutbuildings. There was a miniature kitchen-garden, and a few stuntedfruit trees in the northwest corner; the whole being surrounded by agray stone wall. 

The shadow of the tower fell sharply across the path, which ran upalmost alongside of it. We were both extremely warm by reason of ourlong and rapid walk on that hot day, and this shade should have beengrateful to us. In short, I find it difficult to account for theunwelcome chill which I experienced at the moment that I found myselfat the foot of the time-worn monument. I know that we both pulled upsharply and looked at one another as though acted upon by some mutualdisturbance. 

But not a sound broke the stillness save a remote murmuring, until asolitary sea gull rose in the air and circled directly over the tower, uttering its mournful and unmusical cry. Automatically to my mind sprangthe lines of the poem:

 Far from all brother-men, in the weird of the fen, With God's creatures I bide, 'mid the birds that I ken; Where the winds ever dree, where the hymn of the sea Brings a message of peace from the ocean to me. 

Not a soul was visible about the premises; there was no sound of humanactivity and no dog barked. Nayland Smith drew a long breath, glancedback along the way we had come, then went on, following the wall, Ibeside him, until we came to the gate. It was unfastened, and we walkedup the stone path through a wilderness of weeds. Four windows of thehouse were visible, two on the ground floor and two above. Those onthe ground floor were heavily boarded up, those above, though glazed, boasted neither blinds nor curtains. Cragmire Tower showed not theslightest evidence of tenancy. 

We mounted three steps and stood before a tremendously massive oakendoor. An iron bell-pull, ancient and rusty, hung on the right of thedoor, and Smith, giving me an odd glance, seized the ring and tugged it. 

From somewhere within the building answered a mournful clangor, acracked and toneless jangle, which, seeming to echo through emptyapartments, sought and found an exit apparently by way of one of theopenings in the round tower; for it was from above our heads that thenoise came to us. 

It died away, that eerie ringing--that clanging so dismal that it couldchill my heart even then with the bright sunlight streaming down out ofthe blue; it awoke no other response than the mournful cry of the seagull circling over our heads. Silence fell. We looked at one another, and we were both about to express a mutual doubt when, unheralded byany unfastening of bolts or bars, the oaken door was opened, and a hugemulatto, dressed in white, stood there regarding us. 

I started nervously, for the apparition was so unexpected, but NaylandSmith, without evidence of surprise, thrust a card into the man's hand. 

"Take my card to Mr. Van Roon, and say that I wish to see him onimportant business, " he directed, authoritatively. 

The mulatto bowed and retired. His white figure seemed to be swallowedup by the darkness within, for beyond the patch of uncarpeted floorrevealed by the peeping sunlight, was a barn-like place of densestshadow. I was about to speak, but Smith laid his hand upon my armwarningly, as, out from the shadows the mulatto returned. He stood onthe right of the door and bowed again. 

"Be pleased to enter, " he said, in his harsh, negro voice. "Mr. Van Roonwill see you. "

The gladness of the sun could no longer stir me; a chill and sense offoreboding bore me company, as beside Nayland Smith I entered CragmireTower. 

CHAPTER XXII. THE MULATTO

The room in which Van Roon received us was roughly of the shape of anold-fashioned keyhole; one end of it occupied the base of the tower, upon which the remainder had evidently been built. In many respectsit was a singular room, but the feature which caused me the greatestamazement was this:--it had no windows!

In the deep alcove formed by the tower sat Van Roon at a littered table, upon which stood an oil reading-lamp, green shaded, of the "Victoria"pattern, to furnish the entire illumination of the apartment. Thatbookshelves lined the rectangular portion of this strange study Idivined, although that end of the place was dark as a catacomb. Thewalls were wood-paneled, and the ceiling was oaken beamed. A smallbookshelf and tumble-down cabinet stood upon either side of the table, and the celebrated American author and traveler lay propped up in a longsplit-cane chair. He wore smoked glasses, and had a clean-shaven, oliveface, with a profusion of jet black hair. He was garbed in a dirty reddressing-gown, and a perfect fog of cigar smoke hung in the room. He didnot rise to greet us, but merely extended his right hand, between twofingers whereof he held Smith's card. 

"You will excuse the seeming discourtesy of an invalid, gentlemen?" hesaid; "but I am suffering from undue temerity in the interior of China!"

He waved his hand vaguely, and I saw that two rough deal chairs stoodnear the table. Smith and I seated ourselves, and my friend, leaning hiselbow upon the table, looked fixedly at the face of the man whom wehad come from London to visit. Although comparatively unfamiliar to theBritish public, the name of Van Roon was well-known in American literarycircles; for he enjoyed in the United States a reputation somewhatsimilar to that which had rendered the name of our mutual friend, Sir Lionel Barton, a household word in England. It was Van Roon who, following in the footsteps of Madame Blavatsky, had sought out thehaunts of the fabled mahatmas in the Himalayas, and Van Roon who hadessayed to explore the fever swamps of Yucatan in quest of the secretof lost Atlantis; lastly, it was Van Roon, who, with an overland carspecially built for him by a celebrated American firm, had undertakenthe journey across China. 

I studied the olive face with curiosity. Its natural impassivity wasso greatly increased by the presence of the colored spectacles that mystudy was as profitless as if I had scrutinized the face of a carvenBuddha. The mulatto had withdrawn, and in an atmosphere of gloom andtobacco smoke, Smith and I sat staring, perhaps rather rudely, at theobject of our visit to the West Country. 

"Mr. Van Roon, " began my friend abruptly, "you will no doubt have seenthis paragraph. It appeared in this morning's Daily Telegraph. "

He stood up, and taking out the cutting from his notebook, placed it onthe table. 

"I have seen this--yes, " said Van Roon, revealing a row of even, whiteteeth in a rapid smile. "Is it to this paragraph that I owe the pleasureof seeing you here?"

"The paragraph appeared in this morning's issue, " replied Smith. "Anhour from the time of seeing it, my friend, Dr. Petrie, and I wereentrained for Bridgewater. "

"Your visit delights me, gentlemen, and I should be ungrateful toquestion its cause; but frankly I am at a loss to understand why youshould have honored me thus. I am a poor host, God knows; for whatwith my tortured limb, a legacy from the Chinese devils whose secrets Isurprised, and my semi-blindness, due to the same cause, I am but sorrycompany. "

Nayland Smith held up his right hand deprecatingly. Van Roon tendered abox of cigars and clapped his hands, whereupon the mulatto entered. 

"I see that you have a story to tell me, Mr. Smith, " he said; "thereforeI suggest whisky-and-soda--or you might prefer tea, as it is nearly teatime?"

Smith and I chose the former refreshment, and the soft-footed half-breedhaving departed upon his errand, my companion, leaning forward earnestlyacross the littered table, outlined for Van Roon the story of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the great and malign being whose mission in England at thatmoment was none other than the stoppage of just such information as ourhost was preparing to give to the world. 

"There is a giant conspiracy, Mr. Van Roon, " he said, "which had itsbirth in this very province of Ho-Nan, from which you were so fortunateto escape alive; whatever its scope or limitations, a great secretsociety is established among the yellow races. It means that China, which has slumbered for so many generations, now stirs in that age-longsleep. I need not tell you how much more it means, this seething in thepot... "

"In a word, " interrupted Van Roon, pushing Smith's glass across thetable "you would say?--"

"That your life is not worth that!" replied Smith, snapping his fingersbefore the other's face. 

A very impressive silence fell. I watched Van Roon curiously as he satpropped up among his cushions, his smooth face ghastly in the greenlight from the lamp-shade. He held the stump of a cigar between histeeth, but, apparently unnoticed by him, it had long since gone out. Smith, out of the shadows, was watching him, too. Then:

"Your information is very disturbing, " said the American. "I am the moredisposed to credit your statement because I am all too painfully awareof the existence of such a group as you mention, in China, but that theyhad an agent here in England is something I had never conjectured. Inseeking out this solitary residence I have unwittingly done much toassist their designs... But--my dear Mr. Smith, I am very remiss! Ofcourse you will remain tonight, and I trust for some days to come?"

Smith glanced rapidly across at me, then turned again to our host. 

"It seems like forcing our company upon you, " he said, "but in yourown interests I think it will be best to do as you are good enough tosuggest. I hope and believe that our arrival here has not been noticedby the enemy; therefore it will be well if we remain concealed as muchas possible for the present, until we have settled upon some plan. "

"Hagar shall go to the station for your baggage, " said the Americanrapidly, and clapped his hands, his usual signal to the mulatto. 

Whilst the latter was receiving his orders I noticed Nayland Smithwatching him closely; and when he had departed:

"How long has that man been in your service?" snapped my friend. 

Van Roon peered blindly through his smoked glasses. 

"For some years, " he replied; "he was with me in India--and in China. "

"Where did you engage him?"

"Actually, in St. Kitts. "

"H'm, " muttered Smith, and automatically he took out and began to fillhis pipe. 

"I can offer you no company but my own, gentlemen, " continued Van Roon, "but unless it interferes with your plans, you may find the surroundingdistrict of interest and worthy of inspection, between now and dinnertime. By the way, I think I can promise you quite a satisfactory meal, for Hagar is a model chef. "

"A walk would be enjoyable, " said Smith, "but dangerous. "

"Ah! perhaps you are right. Evidently you apprehend some attempt uponme?"

"At any moment!"

"To one in my crippled condition, an alarming outlook! However, I placemyself unreservedly in your hands. But really, you must not leave thisinteresting district before you have made the acquaintance of some ofits historical spots. To me, steeped as I am in what I may term the loreof the odd, it is a veritable wonderland, almost as interesting, inits way, as the caves and jungles of Hindustan depicted by MadameBlavatsky. "

His high-pitched voice, with a certain labored intonation, not quiteso characteristically American as was his accent, rose even higher; hespoke with the fire of the enthusiast. 

"When I learned that Cragmire Tower was vacant, " he continued, "I leapedat the chance (excuse the metaphor, from a lame man!). This is aghost hunter's paradise. The tower itself is of unknown origin, thoughprobably Phoenician, and the house traditionally sheltered Dr. Macleod, the necromancer, after his flight from the persecution of James ofScotland. Then, to add to its interest, it borders on Sedgemoor, the scene of the bloody battle during the Monmouth rising, whereat athousand were slain on the field. It is a local legend that the unhappyDuke and his staff may be seen, on stormy nights, crossing the pathwhich skirts the mire, after which this building is named, with flamingtorches held aloft. "

"Merely marsh-lights, I take it?" interjected Smith, gripping his pipehard between his teeth. 

"Your practical mind naturally seeks a practical explanation, " smiledVan Roon, "but I myself have other theories. Then in addition to thecharms of Sedgemoor--haunted Sedgemoor--on a fine day it is quitepossible to see the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey from here; andGlastonbury Abbey, as you may know, is closely bound up with the historyof alchemy. It was in the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey that the adeptKelly, companion of Dr. Dee, discovered, in the reign of Elizabeth, thefamous caskets of St. Dunstan, containing the two tinctures... "

So he ran on, enumerating the odd charms of his residence, charms whichfor my part I did not find appealing. Finally:

"We cannot presume further upon your kindness, " said Nayland Smith, standing up. "No doubt we can amuse ourselves in the neighborhood of thehouse until the return of your servant. "

"Look upon Cragmire Tower as your own, gentlemen!" cried Van Roon. "Mostof the rooms are unfurnished, and the garden is a wilderness, butthe structure of the brickwork in the tower may interest youarchaeologically, and the view across the moor is at least as fine asany in the neighborhood. "

So, with his brilliant smile and a gesture of one thin yellow hand, thecrippled traveler made us free of his odd dwelling. As I passed out fromthe room close at Smith's heels, I glanced back, I cannot say why. Van Roon already was bending over his papers, in his green shadowedsanctuary, and the light shining down upon his smoked glasses createdthe odd illusion that he was looking over the tops of the lenses and notdown at the table as his attitude suggested. However, it was probablyascribable to the weird chiaroscuro of the scene, although it gave theseated figure an oddly malignant appearance, and I passed out throughthe utter darkness of the outer room to the front door. Smith openingit, I was conscious of surprise to find dusk come--to meet darknesswhere I had looked for sunlight. 

The silver wisps which had raced along the horizon, as we came toCragmire Tower, had been harbingers of other and heavier banks. A stormysunset smeared crimson streaks across the skyline, where a great rangeof clouds, like the oily smoke of a city burning, was banked, mountaintopping mountain, and lighted from below by this angry red. As we camedown the steps and out by the gate, I turned and looked across the moorbehind us. A sort of reflection from this distant blaze encrimsoned thewhole landscape. The inland bay glowed sullenly, as if internal firesand not reflected light were at work; a scene both wild and majestic. 

Nayland Smith was staring up at the cone-like top of the ancient towerin a curious, speculative fashion. Under the influence of our host'sconversation I had forgotten the reasonless dread which had touched meat the moment of our arrival, but now, with the red light blazing overSedgemoor, as if in memory of the blood which had been shed there, and with the tower of unknown origin looming above me, I became veryuncomfortable again, nor did I envy Van Roon his eerie residence. Theproximity of a tower of any kind, at night, makes in some inexplicableway for awe, and to-night there were other agents, too. 

"What's that?" snapped Smith suddenly, grasping my arm. 

He was peering southward, toward the distant hamlet, and, startingviolently at his words and the sudden grasp of his hand, I, too, staredin that direction. 

"We were followed, Petrie, " he almost whispered. "I never got a sight ofour follower, but I'll swear we were followed. Look! there's somethingmoving over yonder!"

Together we stood staring into the dusk; then Smith burst abruptly intoone of his rare laughs, and clapped me upon the shoulder. 

"It's Hagar, the mulatto!" he cried--"and our grips. That extraordinaryAmerican with his tales of witch-lights and haunted abbeys has beenplaying the devil with our nerves. "

Together we waited by the gate until the half-caste appeared on the bendof the path with a grip in either hand. He was a great, muscular fellowwith a stoic face, and, for the purpose of visiting Saul, presumably, he had doffed his white raiment and now wore a sort of livery, with apeaked cap. 

Smith watched him enter the house. Then:

"I wonder where Van Roon obtains his provisions and so forth, " hemuttered. "It's odd they knew nothing about the new tenant of CragmireTower at 'The Wagoners. '"

There came a sort of sudden expectancy into his manner for which I foundmyself at a loss to account. He turned his gaze inland and stood theretugging at his left ear and clicking his teeth together. He stared atme, and his eyes looked very bright in the dusk, for a sort of red glowfrom the sunset touched them; but he spoke no word, merely taking myarm and leading me off on a rambling walk around and about the house. Neither of us spoke a word until we stood at the gate of Cragmire Toweragain; then:

"I'll swear, now, that we were followed here today!" muttered Smith. 

The lofty place immediately within the doorway proved, in the light of alamp now fixed in an iron bracket, to be a square entrance hall meagerlyfurnished. The closed study door faced the entrance, and on the left ofit ascended an open staircase up which the mulatto led the way. We foundourselves on the floor above, in a corridor traversing the house fromback to front. An apartment on the immediate left was indicated by themulatto as that allotted to Smith. It was a room of fair size, furnishedquite simply but boasting a wardrobe cupboard, and Smith's grip stoodbeside the white enameled bed. I glanced around, and then prepared tofollow the man, who had awaited me in the doorway. 

He still wore his dark livery, and as I followed the lithe, broad-shouldered figure along the corridor, I found myself consideringcritically his breadth of shoulder and the extraordinary thickness ofhis neck. 

I have repeatedly spoken of a sort of foreboding, an elusive stirring inthe depths of my being of which I became conscious at certain timesin my dealings with Dr. Fu-Manchu and his murderous servants. Thissensation, or something akin to it, claimed me now, unaccountably, asI stood looking into the neat bedroom, on the same side of the corridorbut at the extreme end, wherein I was to sleep. 

A voiceless warning urged me to return; a kind of childish panic camefluttering about my heart, a dread of entering the room, of allowing themulatto to come behind me. 

Doubtless this was no more than a sub-conscious product of myobservations respecting his abnormal breadth of shoulder. But whateverthe origin of the impulse, I found myself unable to disobey it. Therefore, I merely nodded, turned on my heel and went back to Smith'sroom. 

I closed the door, then turned to face Smith, who stood regarding me. 

"Smith, " I said, "that man sends cold water trickling down my spine!"

Still regarding me fixedly, my friend nodded his head. 

"You are curiously sensitive to this sort of thing, " he replied slowly;"I have noticed it before as a useful capacity. I don't like the look ofthe man myself. The fact that he has been in Van Roon's employ for someyears goes for nothing. We are neither of us likely to forget Kwee, the Chinese servant of Sir Lionel Barton, and it is quite possible thatFu-Manchu has corrupted this man as he corrupted the other. It is quitepossible... "

His voice trailed off into silence, and he stood looking across the roomwith unseeing eyes, meditating deeply. It was quite dark now outside, asI could see through the uncurtained window, which opened upon the drearyexpanse stretching out to haunted Sedgemoor. Two candles were burningupon the dressing table; they were but recently lighted, and so intensewas the stillness that I could distinctly hear the spluttering of one ofthe wicks, which was damp. Without giving the slightest warning of hisintention, Smith suddenly made two strides forward, stretched out hislong arms, and snuffed the pair of candles in a twinkling. 

The room became plunged in impenetrable darkness. 

"Not a word, Petrie!" whispered my companion. 

I moved cautiously to join him, but as I did so, perceived that he wasmoving too. Vaguely, against the window I perceived him silhouetted. Hewas looking out across the moor, and:

"See! see!" he hissed. 

With my heart thumping furiously in my breast, I bent over him; and forthe second time since our coming to Cragmire Tower, my thoughts flew to"The Fenman. "

 There are shades in the fen; ghosts of women and men Who have sinned and have died, but are living again. O'er the waters they tread, with their lanterns of dread, And they peer in the pools--in the pools of the dead... 

A light was dancing out upon the moor, a witchlight that came and wentunaccountably, up and down, in and out, now clearly visible, now maskedin the darkness!

"Lock the door!" snapped my companion--"if there's a key. "

I crept across the room and fumbled for a moment; then:

"There is no key, " I reported. 

"Then wedge the chair under the knob and let no one enter until Ireturn!" he said, amazingly. 

With that he opened the window to its fullest extent, threw his leg overthe sill, and went creeping along a wide concrete ledge, in which ran aleaded gutter, in the direction of the tower on the right!

Not pausing to follow his instructions respecting the chair, I cranedout of the window, watching his progress, and wondering with what suddenmadness he was bitten. Indeed, I could not credit my senses, could notbelieve that I heard and saw aright. Yet there out in the darkness onthe moor moved the will-o'-the-wisp, and ten yards along the guttercrept my friend, like a great gaunt cat. Unknown to me he must haveprospected the route by daylight, for now I saw his design. The ledgeterminated only where it met the ancient wall of the tower, and itwas possible for an agile climber to step from it to the edge of theunglazed window some four feet below, and to scramble from that pointto the stone fence and thence on to the path by which we had come fromSaul. 

This difficult operation Nayland Smith successfully performed, and, tomy unbounded amazement, went racing into the darkness toward the dancinglight, headlong, like a madman! The night swallowed him up, and betweenmy wonder and my fear my hands trembled so violently that I could scarcesupport myself where I rested, with my full weight upon the sill. 

I seemed now to be moving through the fevered phases of a nightmare. Around and below me Cragmire Tower was profoundly silent, but a faintodor of cookery was now perceptible. Outside, from the night, camea faint whispering as of the distant sea, but no moon and no starsrelieved the impenetrable blackness. Only out over the moor themysterious light still danced and moved. 

One--two--three--four--five minutes passed. The light vanished anddid not appear again. Five more age-long minutes elapsed in absolutesilence, whilst I peered into the darkness of the night and listened, every nerve in my body tense, for the return of Nayland Smith. Yet twomore minutes, which embraced an agony of suspense, passed in the samefashion; then a shadowy form grew, phantomesque, out of the gloom; amoment more, and I distinctly heard the heavy breathing of a man nearlyspent, and saw my friend scrambling up toward the black embrasure in thetower. His voice came huskily, pantingly:

"Creep along and lend me a hand, Petrie! I am nearly winded. "

I crept through the window, steadied my quivering nerves by an effortof the will, and reached the end of the ledge in time to take Smith'sextended hand and to draw him up beside me against the wall of thetower. He was shaking with his exertions, and must have fallen, I think, without my assistance. Inside the room again:

"Quick! light the candles!" he breathed hoarsely. 

"Did any one come?"

"No one--nothing. "

Having expended several matches in vain, for my fingers twitchednervously, I ultimately succeeded in relighting the candles. 

"Get along to your room!" directed Smith. "Your apprehensions areunfounded at the moment, but you may as well leave both doors wideopen!"

I looked into his face--it was very drawn and grim, and his brow was wetwith perspiration, but his eyes had the fighting glint, and I knew thatwe were upon the eve of strange happenings. 

CHAPTER XXIII. A CRY ON THE MOOR

Of the events intervening between this moment and that when death calledto us out of the night, I have the haziest recollections. An excellentdinner was served in the bleak and gloomy dining-room by the mulatto, and the crippled author was carried to the head of the table by thissame Herculean attendant, as lightly as though he had but the weight ofa child. 

Van Roon talked continuously, revealing a deep knowledge of all sorts ofobscure matters; and in the brief intervals, Nayland Smith talked also, with almost feverish rapidity. Plans for the future were discussed. Ican recall no one of them. 

I could not stifle my queer sentiments in regard to the mulatto, andevery time I found him behind my chair I was hard put to repressa shudder. In this fashion the strange evening passed; and to theaccompaniment of distant, muttering thunder, we two guests retiredto our chambers in Cragmire Tower. Smith had contrived to give me myinstructions in a whisper, and five minutes after entering my own room, I had snuffed the candles, slipped a wedge, which he had given me, underthe door, crept out through the window onto the guttered ledge, andjoined Smith in his room. He, too, had extinguished his candles, and theplace was in darkness. As I climbed in, he grasped my wrist to silenceme, and turned me forcibly toward the window. 

"Listen!" he said. 

I turned and looked out upon a prospect which had been a fit setting forthe witch scene in Macbeth. Thunder clouds hung low over the moor, butthrough them ran a sort of chasm, or rift, allowing a bar of lurid lightto stretch across the drear, from east to west--a sort of lane walled bydarkness. There came a remote murmuring, as of a troubled sea--a hushedand distant chorus; and sometimes in upon it broke the drums of heaven. In the west lightning flickered, though but faintly, intermittently. 

Then came the call. 

Out of the blackness of the moor it came, wild and distant--"Help!help!"

"Smith!" I whispered--"what is it? What... "

"Mr. Smith!" came the agonized cry... "Nayland Smith, help! for God'ssake.... "

"Quick, Smith!" I cried, "quick, man! It's Van Roon--he's been draggedout... They are murdering him... "

Nayland Smith held me in a vise-like grip, silent, unmoved!

Louder and more agonized came the cry for aid, and I became more thanever certain that it was poor Van Roon who uttered it. 

"Mr. Smith! Dr. Petrie! for God's sake come... Or... It will be ... Too... Late... "

"Smith!" I said, turning furiously upon my friend, "if you are going toremain here whilst murder is done, I am not!"

My blood boiled now with hot resentment. It was incredible, inhuman, that we should remain there inert whilst a fellow man, and our host toboot, was being done to death out there in the darkness. I exerted allmy strength to break away; but although my efforts told upon him, as hisloud breathing revealed, Nayland Smith clung to me tenaciously. Had myhands been free, in my fury, I could have struck him, for the pitiablecries, growing fainter, now, told their own tale. Then Smith spokeshortly and angrily--breathing hard between the words. 

"Be quiet, you fool!" he snapped; "it's little less than an insult, Petrie, to think me capable of refusing help where help is needed!"

Like a cold douche his words acted; in that instant I knew myself afool. 

"You remember the Call of Siva?" he said, thrusting me away irritably, "--two years ago, and what it meant to those who obeyed it?"

"You might have told me... "

"Told you! You would have been through the window before I had utteredtwo words!"

I realized the truth of his assertion, and the justness of his anger. 

"Forgive me, old man, " I said, very crestfallen, "but my impulse was anatural one, you'll admit. You must remember that I have been trainednever to refuse aid when aid is asked. "

"Shut up, Petrie!" he growled; "forget it. "

The cries had ceased now, entirely, and a peal of thunder, louder thanany yet, echoed over distant Sedgemoor. The chasm of light splitting theheavens closed in, leaving the night wholly black. 

"Don't talk!" rapped Smith; "act! You wedged your door?"

"Yes. "

"Good. Get into that cupboard, have your Browning ready, and keep thedoor very slightly ajar. "

He was in that mood of repressed fever which I knew and which alwayscommunicated itself to me. I spoke no further word, but stepped intothe wardrobe indicated and drew the door nearly shut. The recess justaccommodated me, and through the aperture I could see the bed, vaguely, the open window, and part of the opposite wall. I saw Smith cross thefloor, as a mighty clap of thunder boomed over the house. 

A gleam of lightning flickered through the gloom. 

I saw the bed for a moment, distinctly, and it appeared to me that Smithlay therein, with the sheets pulled up over his head. The light wasgone, and I could hear big drops of rain pattering upon the leadengutter below the open window. 

My mood was strange, detached, and characterized by vagueness. That VanRoon lay dead upon the moor I was convinced; and--although I recognizedthat it must be a sufficient one--I could not even dimly divine thereason why we had refrained from lending him aid. To have failed to savehim, knowing his peril, would have been bad enough; to have refused, Ithought was shameful. Better to have shared his fate--yet... 

The downpour was increasing, and beating now a regular tattoo upon thegutterway. Then, splitting the oblong of greater blackness which markedthe casement, quivered dazzlingly another flash of lightning in whichI saw the bed again, with that impression of Smith curled up in it. Theblinding light died out; came the crash of thunder, harsh and fearsome, more imminently above the tower than ever. The building seemed to shake. 

Coming as they did, horror and the wrath of heaven together, suddenly, crashingly, black and angry after the fairness of the day, thesehappenings and their setting must have terrorized the stoutest heart;but somehow I seemed detached, as I have said, and set apart from thewhirl of events; a spectator. Even when a vague yellow light creptacross the room from the direction of the door, and flickered unsteadilyon the bed, I remained unmoved to a certain degree, although passivelyalive to the significance of the incident. I realized that the ultimateissue was at hand, but either because I was emotionally exhausted, orfrom some other cause, the pending climax failed to disturb me. 

Going on tiptoe, in stockinged feet, across my field of vision, passedKegan Van Roon! He was in his shirt-sleeves and held a lighted candle inone hand whilst with the other he shaded it against the draught fromthe window. He was a cripple no longer, and the smoked glasses werediscarded; most of the light, at the moment when first I saw him, shoneupon his thin, olive face, and at sight of his eyes much of the mysteryof Cragmire Tower was resolved. For they were oblique, very slightly, but nevertheless unmistakably oblique. Though highly educated, andpossibly an American citizen, Van Roon was a Chinaman!

Upon the picture of his face as I saw it then, I do not care todwell. It lacked the unique horror of Dr. Fu-Manchu's unforgettablecountenance, but possessed a sort of animal malignancy which thelatter lacked... He approached within three or four feet of the bed, peering--peering. Then, with a timidity which spoke well for NaylandSmith's reputation, paused and beckoned to some one who evidently stoodin the doorway behind him. As he did so I noted that the legs of histrousers were caked with greenish brown mud nearly up to the knees. 

The huge mulatto, silent-footed, crossed to the bed in three strides. He was stripped to the waist, and, excepting some few professionalathletes, I had never seen a torso to compare with that which, brown andglistening, now bent over Nayland Smith. The muscular development wassimply enormous; the man had a neck like a column, and the thews aroundhis back and shoulders were like ivy tentacles wreathing some gnarledoak. 

Whilst Van Roon, his evil gaze upon the bed, held the candle aloft, the mulatto, with a curious preparatory writhing movement of the mightyshoulders, lowered his outstretched fingers to the disordered bedlinen... 

I pushed open the cupboard door and thrust out the Browning. As I didso a dramatic thing happened. A tall, gaunt figure shot suddenly uprightfrom beyond the bed. It was Nayland Smith!

Upraised in his hand he held a heavy walking cane. I knew the handle tobe leaded, and I could judge of the force with which he wielded it bythe fact that it cut the air with a keen swishing sound. It descendedupon the back of the mulatto's skull with a sickening thud, and thegreat brown body dropped inert upon the padded bed--in which not Smith, but his grip, reposed. There was no word, no cry. Then:

"Shoot, Petrie! Shoot the fiend! Shoot... "

Van Roon, dropping the candle, in the falling gleam of which I saw thewhites of the oblique eyes turned and leaped from the room with theagility of a wild cat. The ensuing darkness was split by a streak oflightning... And there was Nayland Smith scrambling around the foot ofthe bed and making for the door in hot pursuit. 

We gained it almost together. Smith had dropped the cane, and nowheld his pistol in his hand. Together we fired into the chasm of thecorridor, and in the flash, saw Van Roon hurling himself down thestairs. He went silently in his stockinged feet, and our own clatterwas drowned by the awful booming of the thunder which now burst over usagain. 

Crack!--crack!--crack! Three times our pistols spat venomously afterthe flying figure... Then we had crossed the hall below and were inthe wilderness of the night with the rain descending upon us in sheets. Vaguely I saw the white shirt-sleeves of the fugitive near the cornerof the stone fence. A moment he hesitated, then darted away inland, nottoward Saul, but toward the moor and the cup of the inland bay. 

"Steady, Petrie! steady!" cried Nayland Smith. He ran, panting, besideme. "It is the path to the mire. " He breathed sibilantly between everyfew words. "It was out there... That he hoped to lure us... With the cryfor help. "

A great blaze of lightning illuminated the landscape as far as the eyecould see. Ahead of us a flying shape, hair lank and glistening in thedownpour, followed a faint path skirting that green tongue of morasswhich we had noted from the upland. It was Kegan Van Roon. He glancedover his shoulder, showing a yellow, terror-stricken face. We weregaining upon him. Darkness fell, and the thunder cracked and boomed asthough the very moor were splitting about us. 

"Another fifty yards, Petrie, " breathed Nayland Smith, "and after thatit's unchartered ground. "

On we went through the rain and the darkness; then:

"Slow up! slow up!" cried Smith. "It feels soft!"

Indeed, already I had made one false step--and the hungry mire hadfastened upon my foot, almost tripping me. 

"Lost the path!"

We stopped dead. The falling rain walled us in. I dared not move, for Iknew that the mire, the devouring mire, stretched, eager, close aboutmy feet. We were both waiting for the next flash of lightning, I think, but, before it came, out of the darkness ahead of us rose a cry thatsometimes rings in my ears to this hour. Yet it was no more than arepetition of that which had called to us, deathfully, awhile before. 

"Help! help! for God's sake help! Quick! I am sinking... "

Nayland Smith grasped my arm furiously. 

"We dare not move, Petrie--we dare not move!" he breathed. "It's God'sjustice--visible for once. "

Then came the lightning; and--ignoring a splitting crash behind us--weboth looked ahead, over the mire. 

Just on the edge of the venomous green path, not thirty yards away, Isaw the head and shoulders and upstretched, appealing arms of Van Roon. Even as the lightning flickered and we saw him, he was gone; with onelast, long, drawn-out cry, horribly like the mournful wail of a seagull, he was gone!

That eerie light died, and in the instant before the sound of thethunder came shatteringly, we turned about... In time to see CragmireTower, a blacker silhouette against the night, topple and fall! Ared glow began to be perceptible above the building. The thunder camebooming through the caverns of space. Nayland Smith lowered his wet faceclose to mine and shouted in my ear:

"Kegan Van Roon never returned from China. It was a trap. Those were twocreatures of Dr. Fu-Manchu... "

The thunder died away, hollowly, echoing over the distant sea... 

"That light on the moor to-night?"

"You have not learned the Morse Code, Petrie. It was a signal, and itread:--S M I T H... SOS. "

"Well?"

"I took the chance, as you know. And it was Karamaneh! She knew of theplot to bury us in the mire. She had followed from London, but could donothing until dusk. God forgive me if I've misjudged her--for we owe herour lives to-night. "

Flames were bursting up from the building beside the ruin of the ancienttower which had faced the storms of countless ages only to succumb atlast. The lightning literally had cloven it in twain. 

"The mulatto?... "

Again the lightning flashed, and we saw the path and began to retraceour steps. Nayland Smith turned to me; his face was very grim in thatunearthly light, and his eyes shone like steel. 

"I killed him, Petrie... As I meant to do. "

From out over Sedgemoor it came, cracking and rolling and booming towardus, swelling in volume to a stupendous climax, that awful laughter ofJove the destroyer of Cragmire Tower. 

CHAPTER XXIV. STORY OF THE GABLES

In looking over my notes dealing with the second phase of Dr. Fu-Manchu's activities in England, I find that one of the worst hoursof my life was associated with the singular and seemingly inconsequentadventure of the fiery hand. I shall deal with it in this place, beggingyou to bear with me if I seem to digress. 

Inspector Weymouth called one morning, shortly after the Van Roonepisode, and entered upon a surprising account of a visit to a house atHampstead which enjoyed the sinister reputation of being uninhabitable. 

"But in what way does the case enter into your province?" inquiredNayland Smith, idly tapping out his pipe on a bar of the grate. 

We had not long finished breakfast, but from an early hour Smith hadbeen at his eternal smoking, which only the advent of the meal hadinterrupted. 

"Well, " replied the inspector, who occupied a big armchair near thewindow, "I was sent to look into it, I suppose, because I had nothingbetter to do at the moment. "

"Ah!" jerked Smith, glancing over his shoulder. 

The ejaculation had a veiled significance; for our quest of Dr. Fu-Manchu had come to an abrupt termination by reason of the fact thatall trace of that malignant genius, and of the group surrounding him, had vanished with the destruction of Cragmire Tower. 

"The house is called the Gables, " continued the Scotland Yard man, "andI knew I was on a wild goose chase from the first--"

"Why?" snapped Smith. 

"Because I was there before, six months ago or so--just before yourpresent return to England--and I knew what to expect. "

Smith looked up with some faint dawning of interest perceptible in hismanner. 

"I was unaware, " he said with a slight smile, "that the cleaning-upof haunted houses came within the jurisdiction of Scotland Yard. I amlearning something. "

"In the ordinary way, " replied the big man good-humoredly, "it doesn't. But a sudden death always excites suspicion, and--"

"A sudden death?" I said, glancing up; "you didn't explain that theghost had killed any one!"

"I'm afraid I'm a poor hand at yarn-spinning, Doctor, " said Weymouth, turning his blue, twinkling eyes in my direction. "Two people have diedat the Gables within the last six months. "

"You begin to interest me, " declared Smith, and there came something ofthe old, eager look into his gaunt face, as, having lighted his pipe, hetossed the match-end into the hearth. 

"I had hoped for some little excitement, myself, " confessed theinspector. "This dead-end, with not a ghost of a clue to the whereaboutsof the yellow fiend, has been getting on my nerves--"

Nayland Smith grunted sympathetically. 

"Although Dr. Fu-Manchu has been in England for some months, now, "continued Weymouth, "I have never set eyes upon him; the house we raidedin Museum Street proved to be empty; in a word, I am wasting my time. So that I volunteered to run up to Hampstead and look into the matterof the Gables, principally as a distraction. It's a queer business, butmore in the Psychical Research Society's line than mine, I'm afraid. Still, if there were no Dr. Fu-Manchu it might be of interest toyou--and to you, Dr. Petrie, because it illustrates the fact, that, given the right sort of subject, death can be brought about without anyelaborate mechanism--such as our Chinese friends employ. "

"You interest me more and more, " declared Smith, stretching himself inthe long, white cane rest-chair. 

"Two men, both fairly sound, except that the first one had an asthmaticheart, have died at the Gables without any one laying a little fingerupon them. Oh! there was no jugglery! They weren't poisoned, or bittenby venomous insects, or suffocated, or anything like that. They justdied of fear--stark fear. "

With my elbows resting upon the table cover, and my chin in my hands, Iwas listening attentively, now, and Nayland Smith, a big cushion behindhis head, was watching the speaker with a keen and speculative look inthose steely eyes of his. 

"You imply that Dr. Fu-Manchu has something to learn from the Gables?"he jerked. 

Weymouth nodded stolidly. 

"I can't work up anything like amazement in these days, " continued thelatter; "every other case seems stale and hackneyed alongside the case. But I must confess that when the Gables came on the books of the Yardthe second time, I began to wonder. I thought there might be sometangible clue, some link connecting the two victims; perhaps someevidence of robbery or of revenge--of some sort of motive. In short, Ihoped to find evidence of human agency at work, but, as before, I wasdisappointed. "

"It's a legitimate case of a haunted house, then?" said Smith. 

"Yes; we find them occasionally, these uninhabitable places, wherethere is something, something malignant and harmful to human life, butsomething that you cannot arrest, that you cannot hope to bring intocourt. "

"Ah, " replied Smith slowly; "I suppose you are right. There are historicinstances, of course: Glamys Castle and Spedlins Tower in Scotland, Peel Castle, Isle of Man, with its Maudhe Dhug, the gray lady of RainhamHall, the headless horses of Caistor, the Wesley ghost of EpworthRectory, and others. But I have never come in personal contact with sucha case, and if I did I should feel very humiliated to have toconfess that there was any agency which could produce a physicalresult--death--but which was immune from physical retaliation. "

Weymouth nodded his head again. 

"I might feel a bit sour about it, too, " he replied, "if it were notthat I haven't much pride left in these days, considering the show ofphysical retaliation I have made against Dr. Fu-Manchu. "

"A home thrust, Weymouth!" snapped Nayland Smith, with one of thoserare, boyish laughs of his. "We're children to that Chinese doctor, Inspector, to that weird product of a weird people who are as old inevil as the pyramids are old in mystery. But about the Gables?"

"Well, it's an uncanny place. You mentioned Glamys Castle a momentago, and it's possible to understand an old stronghold like that beinghaunted, but the Gables was only built about 1870; it's quite a modernhouse. It was built for a wealthy Quaker family, and they occupied it, uninterruptedly and apparently without anything unusual occurring, forover forty years. Then it was sold to a Mr. Maddison--and Mr. Maddisondied there six months ago. "

"Maddison?" said Smith sharply, staring across at Weymouth. "What washe? Where did he come from?"

"He was a retired tea-planter from Colombo, " replied the inspector. 

"Colombo?"

"There was a link with the East, certainly, if that's what you arethinking; and it was this fact which interested me at the time, andwhich led me to waste precious days and nights on the case. But therewas no mortal connection between this liverish individual and theschemes of Dr. Fu-Manchu. I'm certain of that. "

"And how did he die?" I asked, interestedly. 

"He just died in his chair one evening, in the room which he used as alibrary. It was his custom to sit there every night, when there were novisitors, reading, until twelve o'clock--or later. He was a bachelor, and his household consisted of a cook, a housemaid, and a man who hadbeen with him for thirty years, I believe. At the time of Mr. Maddison'sdeath, his household had recently been deprived of two of its members. The cook and housemaid both resigned one morning, giving as their reasonthe fact that the place was haunted. "

"In what way?"

"I interviewed the precious pair at the time, and they told me absurdand various tales about dark figures wandering along the corridors andbending over them in bed at night, whispering; but their chief troublewas a continuous ringing of bells about the house. "

"Bells?"

"They said that it became unbearable. Night and day there were bellsringing all over the house. At any rate, they went, and for three orfour days the Gables was occupied only by Mr. Maddison and his man, whose name was Stevens. I interviewed the latter also, and he was analtogether more reliable witness; a decent, steady sort of man whosestory impressed me very much at the time. "

"Did he confirm the ringing?"

"He swore to it--a sort of jangle, sometimes up in the air, near theceilings, and sometimes under the floor, like the shaking of silverbells. "

Nayland Smith stood up abruptly and began to pace the room, leavinggreat trails of blue-gray smoke behind him. 

"Your story is sufficiently interesting, Inspector, " he declared, "even to divert my mind from the eternal contemplation of the Fu-Manchuproblem. This would appear to be distinctly a case of an 'astral bell'such as we sometimes hear of in India. "

"It was Stevens, " continued Weymouth, "who found Mr. Maddison. He(Stevens) had been out on business connected with the householdarrangements, and at about eleven o'clock he returned, letting himselfin with a key. There was a light in the library, and getting no responseto his knocking, Stevens entered. He found his master sitting boltupright in a chair, clutching the arms with rigid fingers and staringstraight before him with a look of such frightful horror on his face, that Stevens positively ran from the room and out of the house. Mr. Maddison was stone dead. When a doctor, who lives at no great distanceaway, came and examined him, he could find no trace of violencewhatever; he had apparently died of fright, to judge from the expressionon his face. "

"Anything else?"

"Only this: I learnt, indirectly, that the last member of the Quakerfamily to occupy the house had apparently witnessed the apparition, which had led to his vacating the place. I got the story from the wifeof a man who had been employed as gardener there at that time. The apparition--which he witnessed in the hallway, if I rememberrightly--took the form of a sort of luminous hand clutching a long, curved knife. "

"Oh, Heavens!" cried Smith, and laughed shortly; "that's quite inorder!"

"This gentleman told no one of the occurrence until after he had leftthe house, no doubt in order that the place should not acquire an evilreputation. Most of the original furniture remained, and Mr. Maddisontook the house furnished. I don't think there can be any doubt that whatkilled him was fear at seeing a repetition--"

"Of the fiery hand?" concluded Smith. 

"Quite so. Well, I examined the Gables pretty closely, and, with anotherScotland Yard man, spent a night in the empty house. We saw nothing; butonce, very faintly, we heard the ringing of bells. "

Smith spun around upon him rapidly. 

"You can swear to that?" he snapped. 

"I can swear to it, " declared Weymouth stolidly. "It seemed to be overour heads. We were sitting in the dining-room. Then it was gone, and weheard nothing more whatever of an unusual nature. Following the death ofMr. Maddison, the Gables remained empty until a while ago, when a Frenchgentleman, name Lejay, leased it--"

"Furnished?"

"Yes; nothing was removed--"

"Who kept the place in order?"

"A married couple living in the neighborhood undertook to do so. Theman attended to the lawn and so forth, and the woman came once a week, Ibelieve, to clean up the house. "

"And Lejay?"

"He came in only last week, having leased the house for six months. Hisfamily were to have joined him in a day or two, and he, with the aidof the pair I have just mentioned, and assisted by a French servant hebrought over with him, was putting the place in order. At about twelveo'clock on Friday night this servant ran into a neighboring housescreaming 'the fiery hand!' and when at last a constable arrived and afrightened group went up the avenue of the Gables, they found M. Lejay, dead in the avenue, near the steps just outside the hall door! He hadthe same face of horror... "

"What a tale for the press!" snapped Smith. 

"The owner has managed to keep it quiet so far, but this time I think itwill leak into the press--yes. "

There was a short silence; then:

"And you have been down to the Gables again?"

"I was there on Saturday, but there's not a scrap of evidence. The manundoubtedly died of fright in the same way as Maddison. The place oughtto be pulled down; it's unholy. "

"Unholy is the word, " I said. "I never heard anything like it. This M. Lejay had no enemies?--there could be no possible motive?"

"None whatever. He was a business man from Marseilles, and his affairsnecessitated his remaining in or near London for some considerable time;therefore, he decided to make his headquarters here, temporarily, andleased the Gables with that intention. "

Nayland Smith was pacing the floor with increasing rapidity; he wastugging at the lobe of his left ear and his pipe had long since goneout. 

CHAPTER XXV. THE BELLS

I started to my feet as a tall, bearded man swung open the door andhurled himself impetuously into the room. He wore a silk hat, whichfitted him very ill, and a black frock coat which did not fit him atall. 

"It's all right, Petrie!" cried the apparition; "I've leased theGables!"

It was Nayland Smith! I stared at him in amazement

"The first time I have employed a disguise, " continued my friendrapidly, "since the memorable episode of the false pigtail. " He threwa small brown leather grip upon the floor. "In case you should careto visit the house, Petrie, I have brought these things. My tenancycommences to-night!"

Two days had elapsed, and I had entirely forgotten the strange story ofthe Gables which Inspector Weymouth had related to us; evidently it wasotherwise with my friend, and utterly at a loss for an explanation ofhis singular behavior, I stooped mechanically and opened the grip. It contained an odd assortment of garments, and amongst other thingsseveral gray wigs and a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. 

Kneeling there with this strange litter about me, I looked up amazedly. Nayland Smith, with the unsuitable silk hat set right upon the back ofhis head, was pacing the room excitedly, his fuming pipe protruding fromthe tangle of factitious beard. 

"You see, Petrie, " he began again, rapidly, "I did not entirely trustthe agent. I've leased the house in the name of Professor Maxton... "

"But, Smith, " I cried, "what possible reason can there be for disguise?"

"There's every reason, " he snapped. 

"Why should you interest yourself in the Gables?"

"Does no explanation occur to you?"

"None whatever; to me the whole thing smacks of stark lunacy. "

"Then you won't come?"

"I've never stuck at anything, Smith, " I replied, "however undignified, when it has seemed that my presence could be of the slightest use. "

As I rose to my feet, Smith stepped in front of me, and the steely grayeyes shone out strangely from the altered face. He clapped his handsupon my shoulders. 

"If I assure you that your presence is necessary to my safety, " hesaid--"that if you fail me I must seek another companion--will youcome?"

Intuitively, I knew that he was keeping something back, and I wasconscious of some resentment, but nevertheless my reply was a foregoneconclusion, and--with the borrowed appearance of an extremely untidyold man--I crept guiltily out of my house that evening and into the cabwhich Smith had waiting. 

The Gables was a roomy and rambling place lying back a considerabledistance from the road. A semicircular drive gave access to the door, and so densely wooded was the ground, that for the most part the drivewas practically a tunnel--a verdant tunnel. A high brick wall concealedthe building from the point of view of any one on the roadway, buteither horn of the crescent drive terminated at a heavy, wrought-irongateway. 

Smith discharged the cab at the corner of the narrow and winding roadupon which the Gables fronted. It was walled in on both sides; onthe left the wall being broken by tradesmen's entrances to thehouses fronting upon another street, and on the right following, uninterruptedly, the grounds of the Gables. As we came to the gate:

"Nothing now, " said Smith, pointing into the darkness of the road beforeus, "except a couple of studios, until one comes to the Heath. "

He inserted the key in the lock of the gate and swung it creakinglyopen. I looked into the black arch of the avenue, thought of the hauntedresidence that lay hidden somewhere beyond, of those who had died init--especially of the one who had died there under the trees--and foundmyself out of love with the business of the night. 

"Come on!" said Nayland Smith briskly, holding the gate open; "thereshould be a fire in the library and refreshments, if the charwoman hasfollowed instructions. "

I heard the great gate clang to behind us. Even had there been any moon(and there was none) I doubted if more than a patch or two of lightcould have penetrated there. The darkness was extraordinary. Nothingbroke it, and I think Smith must have found his way by the aid of somesixth sense. At any rate, I saw nothing of the house until I stood somefive paces from the steps leading up to the porch. A light was burningin the hallway, but dimly and inhospitably; of the facade of thebuilding I could perceive little. 

When we entered the hall and the door was closed behind us, I beganwondering anew what purpose my friend hoped to serve by a vigil in thishaunted place. There was a light in the library, the door of which wasajar, and on the large table were decanters, a siphon, and some biscuitsand sandwiches. A large grip stood upon the floor, also. For some reasonwhich was a mystery to me, Smith had decided that we must assume falsenames whilst under the roof of the Gables; and:

"Now, Pearce, " he said, "a whisky-and-soda before we look around?"

The proposal was welcome enough, for I felt strangely dispirited, and, to tell the truth, in my strange disguise, not a little ridiculous. 

All my nerves, no doubt, were highly strung, and my sense of hearingunusually acute, for I went in momentary expectation of some uncannyhappening. I had not long to wait. As I raised the glass to my lips andglanced across the table at my friend, I heard the first faint soundheralding the coming of the bells. 

It did not seem to proceed from anywhere within the library, but fromsome distant room, far away overhead. A musical sound it was, butbreaking in upon the silence of that ill-omened house, its music was themusic of terror. In a faint and very sweet cascade it rippled; a ringingas of tiny silver bells. 

I set down my glass upon the table, and rising slowly from the chair inwhich I had been seated, stared fixedly at my companion, who was staringwith equal fixity at me. I could see that I had not been deluded;Nayland Smith had heard the ringing, too. 

"The ghosts waste no time!" he said softly. "This is not new to me; Ispent an hour here last night and heard the same sound... "

I glanced hastily around the room. It was furnished as a library, andcontained a considerable collection of works, principally novels. I wasunable to judge of the outlook, for the two lofty windows were drapedwith heavy purple curtains which were drawn close. A silk shaded lampswung from the center of the ceiling, and immediately over the table bywhich I stood. There was much shadow about the room; and now I glancedapprehensively about me, but especially toward the open door. 

In that breathless suspense of listening we stood awhile; then:

"There it is again!" whispered Smith, tensely. 

The ringing of bells was repeated, and seemingly much nearer to us; infact it appeared to come from somewhere above, up near the ceiling ofthe room in which we stood. Simultaneously, we looked up, then Smithlaughed, shortly. 

"Instinctive, I suppose, " he snapped; "but what do we expect to see inthe air?"

The musical sound now grew in volume; the first tiny peal seemed to bereinforced by others and by others again, until the air around about uswas filled with the pealings of these invisible bell-ringers. 

Although, as I have said, the sound was rather musical than horrible, itwas, on the other hand, so utterly unaccountable as to touch thesupreme heights of the uncanny. I could not doubt that our presence hadattracted these unseen ringers to the room in which we stood, and I knewquite well that I was growing pale. This was the room in which at leastone unhappy occupant of the Gables had died of fear. I recognized thefact that if this mere overture were going to affect my nerves to suchan extent, I could not hope to survive the ordeal of the night; a greateffort was called for. I emptied my glass at a gulp, and stared acrossthe table at Nayland Smith with a sort of defiance. He was standingvery upright and motionless, but his eyes were turning right and left, searching every visible corner of the big room. 

"Good!" he said in a very low voice. "The terrorizing power of theUnknown is boundless, but we must not get in the grip of panic, or wecould not hope to remain in this house ten minutes. "

I nodded without speaking. Then Smith, to my amazement, suddenly beganto speak in a loud voice, a marked contrast to that, almost a whisper, in which he had spoken formerly. 

"My dear Pearce, " he cried, "do you hear the ringing of bells?"

Clearly the latter words were spoken for the benefit of the unseenintelligence controlling these manifestations; and although I regardedsuch finesse as somewhat wasted, I followed my friend's lead and repliedin a voice as loud as his own:

"Distinctly, Professor!"

Silence followed my words, a silence in which both stood watchful andlistening. Then, very faintly, I seemed to detect the silvern ringingreceding away through distant rooms. Finally it became inaudible, andin the stillness of the Gables I could distinctly hear my companionbreathing. For fully ten minutes we two remained thus, each momentarilyexpecting a repetition of the ringing, or the coming of some new andmore sinister manifestation. But we heard nothing and saw nothing. 

"Hand me that grip, and don't stir until I come back!" hissed Smith inmy ear. 

He turned and walked out of the library, his boots creaking very loudlyin that awe-inspiring silence. 

Standing beside the table, I watched the open door for his return, crushing down a dread that another form than his might suddenly appearthere. 

I could hear him moving from room to room, and presently, as I waitedin hushed, tense watchfulness, he came in, depositing the grip upon thetable. His eyes were gleaming feverishly. 

"The house is haunted, Pearce!" he cried. "But no ghost ever frightenedme! Come, I will show you your room. "

CHAPTER XXVI. THE FIERY HAND

Smith walked ahead of me upstairs; he had snapped up the light in thehallway, and now he turned and cried back loudly:

"I fear we should never get servants to stay here. "

Again I detected the appeal to a hidden Audience; and there wassomething very uncanny in the idea. The house now was deathly still; theringing had entirely subsided. In the upper corridor my companion, whoseemed to be well acquainted with the position of the switches, againturned up all the lights, and in pursuit of the strange comedy which hesaw fit to enact, addressed me continuously in the loud and unnaturalvoice which he had adopted as part of his disguise. 

We looked into a number of rooms all well and comfortably furnished, butalthough my imagination may have been responsible for the idea, theyall seemed to possess a chilly and repellent atmosphere. I felt that toessay sleep in any one of them would be the merest farce, that theplace to all intents and purposes was uninhabitable, that somethingincalculably evil presided over the house. 

And through it all, so obtuse was I, that no glimmer of the truthentered my mind. Outside again in the long, brightly lighted corridor, we stood for a moment as if a mutual anticipation of some new eventpending had come to us. It was curious that sudden pulling up and silentquestioning of one another; because, although we acted thus, no soundhad reached us. A few seconds later our anticipation was realized. Fromthe direction of the stairs it came--a low wailing in a woman's voice;and the sweetness of the tones added to the terror of the sound. Iclutched at Smith's arm convulsively whilst that uncanny cry rose andfell--rose and fell--and died away. 

Neither of us moved immediately. My mind was working with feverishrapidity and seeking to run down a memory which the sound had stirredinto faint quickness. My heart was still leaping wildly when the wailingbegan again, rising and falling in regular cadence. At that instant Iidentified it. 

During the time Smith and I had spent together in Egypt, two yearsbefore, searching for Karamaneh, I had found myself on one occasion inthe neighborhood of a native cemetery near to Bedrasheen. Now, thescene which I had witnessed there rose up again vividly before me, andI seemed to see a little group of black-robed women clustered togetherabout a native grave; for the wailing which now was dying away againin the Gables was the same, or almost the same, as the wailing of thoseEgyptian mourners. 

The house was very silent again, now. My forehead was damp withperspiration, and I became more and more convinced that the uncannyordeal must prove too much for my nerves. Hitherto, I had accordedlittle credence to tales of the supernatural, but face to face with suchmanifestations as these, I realized that I would have faced rather agroup of armed dacoits, nay! Dr. Fu-Manchu himself, than have remainedanother hour in that ill-omened house. 

My companion must have read as much in my face. But he kept up thestrange, and to me, purposeless comedy, when presently he spoke. 

"I feel it to be incumbent upon me to suggest, " he said, "that we spendthe night at a hotel after all. "

He walked rapidly downstairs and into the library and began to strap upthe grip. 

"After all, " he said, "there may be a natural explanation of what we'veheard; for it is noteworthy that we have actually seen nothing. It mighteven be possible to get used to the ringing and the wailing after atime. Frankly, I am loath to go back on my bargain!"

Whilst I stared at him in amazement, he stood there indeterminate as itseemed, Then:

"Come, Pearce!" he cried loudly, "I can see that you do not share myviews; but for my own part I shall return to-morrow and devote furtherattention to the phenomena. "

Extinguishing the light, he walked out into the hallway, carrying thegrip in his hand. I was not far behind him. We walked toward the doortogether, and:

"Turn the light out, Pearce, " directed Smith; "the switch is at yourelbow. We can see our way to the door well enough, now. "

In order to carry out these instructions, it became necessary for me toremain a few paces in the rear of my companion, and I think I have neverexperienced such a pang of nameless terror as pierced me at the momentof extinguishing the light; for Smith had not yet opened the door, andthe utter darkness of the Gables was horrible beyond expression. Surelydarkness is the most potent weapon of the Unknown. I know that at themoment my hand left the switch, I made for the door as though the hostsof hell pursued me. I collided violently with Smith. He was evidentlyfacing toward me in the darkness, for at the moment of our collision, hegrasped my shoulder as in a vise. 

"My God, Petrie! look behind you!" he whispered. 

I was enabled to judge of the extent and reality of his fear by thefact that the strange subterfuge of addressing me always as Pearce wasforgotten. I turned, in a flash.... 

Never can I forget what I saw. Many strange and terrible memories aremine, memories stranger and more terrible than those of the averageman; but this thing which now moved slowly down upon us throughthe impenetrable gloom of that haunted place, was (if the term beunderstood) almost absurdly horrible. It was a medieval legend come tolife in modern London; it was as though some horrible chimera of theblack and ignorant past was become create and potent in the present. 

A luminous hand--a hand in the veins of which fire seemed to run sothat the texture of the skin and the shape of the bones within wereperceptible--in short a hand of glowing, fiery flesh clutching a shortknife or dagger which also glowed with the same hellish, internalluminance, was advancing upon us where we stood--was not three pacesremoved!

What I did or how I came to do it, I can never recall. In all my yearsI have experienced nothing to equal the stark panic which seized upon methen. I know that I uttered a loud and frenzied cry; I know that I toremyself like a madman from Smith's restraining grip... 

"Don't touch it! Keep away, for your life!" I heard... 

But, dimly I recollect that, finding the thing approaching yet nearer, I lashed out with my fists--madly, blindly--and struck somethingpalpable... 

What was the result, I cannot say. At that point my recollectionsmerge into confusion. Something or some one (Smith, as I afterwardsdiscovered) was hauling me by main force through the darkness; I fell aconsiderable distance onto gravel which lacerated my hands and gashedmy knees. Then, with the cool night air fanning my brow, I was running, running--my breath coming in hysterical sobs. Beside me fled anotherfigure.... And my definite recollections commence again at that point. For this companion of my flight from the Gables threw himself roughlyagainst me to alter my course. 

"Not that way! not that way!" came pantingly. 

"Not on to the Heath... We must keep to the roads... "

It was Nayland Smith. That healing realization came to me, bringing sucha gladness as no words of mine can express nor convey. Still we ran on. 

"There's a policeman's lantern, " panted my companion. "They'll attemptnothing, now!"

 * * * * *

I gulped down the stiff brandy-and-soda, then glanced across to whereNayland Smith lay extended in the long, cane chair. 

"Perhaps you will explain, " I said, "for what purpose you submittedme to that ordeal. If you proposed to correct my skepticism concerningsupernatural manifestations, you have succeeded. "

"Yes, " said my companion, musingly, "they are devilishly clever; but weknew that already. "

I stared at him, fatuously. 

"Have you ever known me to waste my time when there was important workto do?" he continued. "Do you seriously believe that my ghost-huntingwas undertaken for amusement? Really, Petrie, although you are very fondof assuring me that I need a holiday, I think the shoe is on the otherfoot!"

From the pocket of his dressing-gown, he took out a piece of silk fringewhich had apparently been torn from a scarf, and rolling it into a ball, tossed it across to me. 

"Smell!" he snapped. 

I did as he directed--and gave a great start. The silk exhaled afaint perfume, but its effect upon me was as though some one had criedaloud:--

"Karamaneh!"

Beyond doubt the silken fragment had belonged to the beautiful servantof Dr. Fu-Manchu, to the dark-eyed, seductive Karamaneh. Nayland Smithwas watching me keenly. 

"You recognize it--yes?"

I placed the piece of silk upon the table, slightly shrugging myshoulders. 

"It was sufficient evidence in itself, " continued my friend, "but Ithought it better to seek confirmation, and the obvious way was to poseas a new lessee of the Gables... "

"But, Smith, " I began... 

"Let me explain, Petrie. The history of the Gables seemed to besusceptible of only one explanation; in short it was fairly evident tome that the object of the manifestations was to insure the place beingkept empty. This idea suggested another, and with them both in mind, Iset out to make my inquiries, first taking the precaution to disguise myidentity, to which end Weymouth gave me the freedom of Scotland Yard'sfancy wardrobe. I did not take the agent into my confidence, but posedas a stranger who had heard that the house was to let furnished andthought it might suit his purpose. My inquiries were directed to aparticular end, but I failed to achieve it at the time. I had theories, as I have said, and when, having paid the deposit and secured possessionof the keys, I was enabled to visit the place alone, I was fortunateenough to obtain evidence to show that my imagination had not misled me. 

"You were very curious the other morning, I recall, respecting my objectin borrowing a large brace and bit. My object, Petrie, was to bore aseries of holes in the wainscoating of various rooms at the Gables--ininconspicuous positions, of course... "

"But, my dear Smith!" I cried, "you are merely adding to mymystification. "

He stood up and began to pace the room in his restless fashion. 

"I had cross-examined Weymouth closely regarding the phenomenon ofthe bell-ringing, and an exhaustive search of the premises led to thediscovery that the house was in such excellent condition that, fromground-floor to attic, there was not a solitary crevice large enough toadmit of the passage of a mouse. "

I suppose I must have been staring very foolishly indeed, for NaylandSmith burst into one of his sudden laughs. 

"A mouse, I said, Petrie!" he cried. "With the brace-and-bit I rectifiedthat matter. I made the holes I have mentioned, and before each set atrap baited with a piece of succulent, toasted cheese. Just open thatgrip!"

The light at last was dawning upon my mental darkness, and I pouncedupon the grip, which stood upon a chair near the window, and opened it. A sickly smell of cooked cheese assailed my nostrils. 

"Mind your fingers!" cried Smith; "some of them are still set, possibly. "

Out from the grip I began to take mouse-traps! Two or three of them werestill set but in the case of the greater number the catches had slipped. Nine I took out and placed upon the table, and all were empty. Inthe tenth there crouched, panting, its soft furry body dank withperspiration, a little white mouse!

"Only one capture!" cried my companion, "showing how well-fed thecreatures were. Examine his tail!"

But already I had perceived that to which Smith would draw my attention, and the mystery of the "astral bells" was a mystery no longer. Bound tothe little creature's tail, close to the root, with fine soft wiresuch as is used for making up bouquets, were three tiny silver bells. Ilooked across at my companion in speechless surprise. 

"Almost childish, is it not?" he said; "yet by means of this simpledevice the Gables has been emptied of occupant after occupant. There wassmall chance of the trick being detected, for, as I have said, there wasabsolutely no aperture from roof to basement by means of which one ofthem could have escaped into the building. "

"Then... "

"They were admitted into the wall cavities and the rafters, from somecellar underneath, Petrie, to which, after a brief scamper under thefloors and over the ceilings, they instinctively returned for thefood they were accustomed to receive, and for which, even had it beenpossible (which it was not) they had no occasion to forage. "

I, too, stood up; for excitement was growing within me. I took up thepiece of silk from the table. 

"Where did you find this?" I asked, my eyes upon Smith's keen face. 

"In a sort of wine cellar, Petrie, " he replied, "under the stair. Thereis no cellar proper to the Gables--at least no such cellar appears inthe plans. "

"But... "

"But there is one beyond doubt--yes! It must be part of some olderbuilding which occupied the site before the Gables was built. One canonly surmise that it exists, although such a surmise is a fairly safeone, and the entrance to the subterranean portion of the building issituated beyond doubt in the wine cellar. Of this we have at least twoevidences:--the finding of the fragment of silk there, and the fact thatin one case at least--as I learned--the light was extinguished in thelibrary unaccountably. This could only have been done in one way: bymanipulating the main switch, which is also in the wine cellar. "

"But Smith!" I cried, "do you mean that Fu-Manchu... "

Nayland Smith turned in his promenade of the floor, and stared into myeyes. 

"I mean that Dr. Fu-Manchu has had a hiding-place under the Gables foran indefinite period!" he replied. "I always suspected that a man of hisgenius would have a second retreat prepared for him, anticipating theevent of the first being discovered. Oh! I don't doubt it! The placeprobably is extensive, and I am almost certain--though the point hasto be confirmed--that there is another entrance from the studio furtheralong the road. We know, now, why our recent searchings in the East Endhave proved futile; why the house in Museum Street was deserted; he hasbeen lying low in this burrow at Hampstead!"

"But the hand, Smith, the luminous hand... "

Nayland Smith laughed shortly. 

"Your superstitious fears overcame you to such an extent, Petrie--and Idon't wonder at it; the sight was a ghastly one--that probably you don'tremember what occurred when you struck out at that same ghostly hand?"

"I seemed to hit something. "

"That was why we ran. But I think our retreat had all the appearance ofa rout, as I intended that it should. Pardon my playing upon your verynatural fears, old man, but you could not have simulated panic half sonaturally! And if they had suspected that the device was discovered, we might never have quitted the Gables alive. It was touch-and-go for amoment. "

"But... "

"Turn out the light!" snapped my companion. 

Wondering greatly, I did as he desired. I turned out the light... Andin the darkness of my own study I saw a fiery fist being shaken at methreateningly!... The bones were distinctly visible, and the luminosityof the flesh was truly ghastly. 

"Turn on the light, again!" cried Smith. 

Deeply mystified, I did so... And my friend tossed a little electricpocket-lamp on to the writing-table. 

"They used merely a small electric lamp fitted into the handle of aglass dagger, " he said with a sort of contempt. "It was very effective, but the luminous hand is a phenomenon producible by any one whopossesses an electric torch. "

"The Gables--will be watched?"

"At last, Petrie, I think we have Fu-Manchu--in his own trap!"

CHAPTER XXVII. THE NIGHT OF THE RAID

"Dash it all, Petrie!" cried Smith, "this is most annoying!"

The bell was ringing furiously, although midnight was long past. Whomcould my late visitor be? Almost certainly this ringing portended anurgent case. In other words, I was not fated to take part in what Ianticipated would prove to be the closing scene of the Fu-Manchu drama. 

"Every one is in bed, " I said, ruefully; "and how can I possibly see apatient--in this costume?"

Smith and I were both arrayed in rough tweeds, and anticipating thelabors before us, had dispensed with collars and wore soft mufflers. It was hard to be called upon to face a professional interview dressedthus, and having a big tweed cap pulled down over my eyes. 

Across the writing-table we confronted one another in dismayed silence, whilst, below, the bell sent up its ceaseless clangor. 

"It has to be done, Smith, " I said, regretfully. "Almost certainly itmeans a journey and probably an absence of some hours. "

I threw my cap upon the table, turned up my coat to hide the absenceof collar, and started for the door. My last sight of Smith showed himstanding looking after me, tugging at the lobe of his ear and clickinghis teeth together with suppressed irritability. I stumbled down thedark stairs, along the hall, and opened the front door. Vaguely visiblein the light of a street lamp which stood at no great distance away, I saw a slender man of medium height confronting me. From the shadowedface two large and luminous eyes looked out into mine. My visitor, who, despite the warmth of the evening, wore a heavy greatcoat, was anOriental!

I drew back, apprehensively; then:

"Ah! Dr. Petrie!" he said in a softly musical voice which made me startagain, "to God be all praise that I have found you!"

Some emotion, which at present I could not define, was stirring withinme. Where had I seen this graceful Eastern youth before? Where had Iheard that soft voice?

"Do you wish to see me professionally?" I asked--yet even as I put thequestion, I seemed to know it unnecessary. 

"So you know me no more?" said the stranger--and his teeth gleamed in aslight smile. 

Heavens! I knew now what had struck that vibrant chord within me! Thevoice, though infinitely deeper, yet had an unmistakable resemblanceto the dulcet tones of Karamaneh--of Karamaneh whose eyes haunted mydreams, whose beauty had done much to embitter my years. 

The Oriental youth stepped forward, with outstretched hand. 

"So you know me no more?" he repeated; "but I know you, and give praiseto Allah that I have found you!"

I stepped back, pressed the electric switch, and turned, with leapingheart, to look into the face of my visitor. It was a face of the purestGreek beauty, a face that might have served as a model for Praxiteles;the skin had a golden pallor, which, with the crisp black hair andmagnetic yet velvety eyes, suggested to my fancy that this was the youngAntinious risen from the Nile, whose wraith now appeared to me out ofthe night. I stifled a cry of surprise, not unmingled with gladness. 

It was Aziz--the brother of Karamaneh!

Never could the entrance of a figure upon the stage of a drama have beenmore dramatic than the coming of Aziz upon this night of all nights. I seized the outstretched hand and drew him forward, then reclosed thedoor and stood before him a moment in doubt. 

A vaguely troubled look momentarily crossed the handsome face; withthe Oriental's unerring instinct, he had detected the reserve of mygreeting. Yet, when I thought of the treachery of Karamaneh, when Iremember how she, whom we had befriended, whom we had rescued from thehouse of Fu-Manchu, now had turned like the beautiful viper that she wasto strike at the hand that caressed her; when I thought how to-night wewere set upon raiding the place where the evil Chinese doctor lurked inhiding, were set upon the arrest of that malignant genius and of all hiscreatures, Karamaneh amongst them, is it strange that I hesitated? Yet, again, when I thought of my last meeting with her, and of how, twice, she had risked her life to save me... 

So, avoiding the gaze of the lad, I took his arm, and in silence we twoascended the stairs and entered my study... Where Nayland Smith stoodbolt upright beside the table, his steely eyes fixed upon the face ofthe new arrival. 

No look of recognition crossed the bronzed features, and Aziz who hadstarted forward with outstretched hands, fell back a step and lookedpathetically from me to Nayland Smith, and from the grim commissionerback again to me. The appeal in the velvet eyes was more than I couldtolerate, unmoved. 

"Smith, " I said shortly, "you remember Aziz?"

Not a muscle visibly moved in Smith's face, as he snapped back:

"I remember him perfectly. "

"He has come, I think, to seek our assistance. "

"Yes, yes!" cried Aziz laying his hand upon my arm with a gesturepainfully reminiscent of Karamaneh--"I came only to-night to London. Oh, my gentlemen! I have searched, and searched, and searched, until Iam weary. Often I have wished to die. And then at last I come toRangoon... "

"To Rangoon!" snapped Smith, still with the gray eyes fixed almostfiercely upon the lad's face. 

"To Rangoon--yes; and there I heard news at last. I hear that you haveseen her--have seen Karamaneh--that you are back in London. " He was notentirely at home with his English. "I know then that she must be here, too. I ask them everywhere, and they answer 'yes. ' Oh, Smith Pasha!"--hestepped forward and impulsively seized both Smith's hands--"You knowwhere she is--take me to her!"

Smith's face was a study in perplexity, now. In the past we hadbefriended the young Aziz, and it was hard to look upon him in the lightof an enemy. Yet had we not equally befriended his sister?--and she... 

At last Smith glanced across at me where I stood just within thedoorway. 

"What do you make of it, Petrie?" he said harshly. "Personally I takeit to mean that our plans have leaked out. " He sprang suddenly back fromAziz and I saw his glance traveling rapidly over the slight figure as ifin quest of concealed arms. "I take it to be a trap!"

A moment he stood so, regarding him, and despite my well-groundeddistrust of the Oriental character, I could have sworn that theexpression of pained surprise upon the youth's face was not simulatedbut real. Even Smith, I think, began to share my view; for suddenlyhe threw himself into the white cane rest-chair, and, still fixedlyregarding Aziz:

"Perhaps I have wronged you, " he said. "If I have, you shall know thereason presently. Tell your own story!"

There was a pathetic humidity in the velvet eyes of Aziz--eyes so likethose others that were ever looking into mine in dreams--as glancingfrom Smith to me he began, hands outstretched, characteristically, palmsupward and fingers curling, to tell in broken English the story of hissearch for Karamaneh... 

"It was Fu-Manchu, my kind gentlemen--it was the hakim who is really nota man at all, but an efreet. He found us again less than four days afteryou had left us, Smith Pasha!... He found us in Cairo, and to Karamanehhe made the forgetting of all things--even of me--even of me... "

Nayland Smith snapped his teeth together sharply; then:

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. 

For my own part I understood well enough, remembering how the brilliantChinese doctor once had performed such an operation as this upon poorInspector Weymouth; how, by means of an injection of some serum prepared(as Karamaneh afterwards told us) from the venom of a swamp adder orsimilar reptile, he had induced amnesia, or complete loss of memory. Ifelt every drop of blood recede from my cheeks. 

"Smith!" I began... 

"Let him speak for himself, " interrupted my friend sharply. 

"They tried to take us both, " continued Aziz still speaking in thatsoft, melodious manner, but with deep seriousness. "I escaped, I, whoam swift of foot, hoping to bring help. "--He shook his head sadly--"But, except the All Powerful, who is so powerful as the Hakim Fu-Manchu? Ihid, my gentlemen, and watched and waited, one--two--three weeks. Atlast I saw her again, my sister, Karamaneh; but ah! she did not know me, did not know me, Aziz her brother! She was in an arabeeyeh, and passedme quickly along the Sharia en-Nahhasin. I ran, and ran, and ran, cryingher name, but although she looked back, she did not know me--she did notknow me! I felt that I was dying, and presently I fell--upon the stepsof the Mosque of Abu. "

He dropped the expressive hands wearily to his sides and sank his chinupon his breast. 

"And then?" I said, huskily--for my heart was fluttering like a captivebird. 

"Alas! from that day to this I see her no more, my gentlemen. I travel, not only in Egypt, but near and far, and still I see her no more untilin Rangoon I hear that which brings me to England again"--he extendedhis palms naively--"and here I am--Smith Pasha. "

Smith sprang upright again and turned to me. 

"Either I am growing over-credulous, " he said, "or Aziz speaks thetruth. But"--he held up his hand--"you can tell me all that at someother time, Petrie! We must take no chances. Sergeant Carter isdownstairs with the cab; you might ask him to step up. He and Aziz canremain here until our return. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE SAMURAI'S SWORD

The muffled drumming of sleepless London seemed very remote from us, as side by side we crept up the narrow path to the studio. This was astarry but moonless night, and the little dingy white building with asolitary tree peeping, in silhouette, above the glazed roof, bore an oddresemblance to one of those tombs which form a city of the dead so nearto the city of feverish life on the slopes of the Mokattam Hills. Thisline of reflection proved unpleasant, and I dismissed it sternly from mymind. 

The shriek of a train-whistle reached me, a sound which breaks thestillness of the most silent London night, telling of the ceaseless, febrile life of the great world-capital whose activity ceases not withthe coming of darkness. Around and about us a very great stillnessreigned, however, and the velvet dusk which, with the star-jeweled sky, was strongly suggestive of an Eastern night--gave up no sign to showthat it masked the presence of more than twenty men. Some distance awayon our right was the Gables, that sinister and deserted mansion whichwe assumed, and with good reason, to be nothing less than the gatewayto the subterranean abode of Dr. Fu-Manchu; before us was the studio, which, if Nayland Smith's deductions were accurate, concealed a secondentrance to the same mysterious dwelling. 

As my friend, glancing cautiously all about him, inserted the key inthe lock, an owl hooted dismally almost immediately above our heads. Icaught my breath sharply, for it might be a signal; but, looking upward, I saw a great black shape float slantingly from the tree beyond thestudio into the coppice on the right which hemmed in the Gables. Silently the owl winged its uncanny flight into the greater darkness ofthe trees, and was gone. Smith opened the door and we stepped intothe studio. Our plans had been well considered, and in accordance withthese, I now moved up beside my friend, who was dimly perceptible to mein the starlight which found access through the glass roof, and pressedthe catch of my electric pocket-lamp... 

I suppose that by virtue of my self-imposed duty as chronicler of thedeeds of Dr. Fu-Manchu--the greatest and most evil genius whom thelater centuries have produced, the man who dreamt of an universal YellowEmpire--I should have acquired a certain facility in describing bizarrehappenings. But I confess that it fails me now as I attempt in coldEnglish to portray my emotions when the white beam from the littlelamp cut through the darkness of the studio, and shone fully upon thebeautiful face of Karamaneh!

Less than six feet away from me she stood, arrayed in the gauzy dress ofthe harem, her fingers and slim white arms laden with barbaric jewelry!The light wavered in my suddenly nerveless hand, gleaming momentarilyupon bare ankles and golden anklets, upon little red leather shoes. 

I spoke no word, and Smith was as silent as I; both of us, I think, werespeechless rather from amazement than in obedience to the evident wishesof Fu-Manchu's slave-girl. Yet I have only to close my eyes at thismoment to see her as she stood, one finger raised to her lips, enjoiningus to silence. She looked ghastly pale in the light of the lamp, but solovely that my rebellious heart threatened already, to make a fool ofme. 

So we stood in that untidy studio, with canvases and easels heapedagainst the wall and with all sorts of litter about us, a trio strangelymet, and one to have amused the high gods watching through the windowsof the stars. 

"Go back!" came in a whisper from Karamaneh. 

I saw the red lips moving and read a dreadful horror in the widelyopened eyes, in those eyes like pools of mystery to taunt the thirstysoul. The world of realities was slipping past me; I seemed to be losingmy hold on things actual; I had built up an Eastern palace about myselfand Karamaneh wherein, the world shut out, I might pass the hours inreading the mystery of those dark eyes. Nayland Smith brought me sharplyto my senses. 

"Steady with the light, Petrie!" he hissed in my ear. "My skepticism hasbeen shaken, to-night, but I am taking no chances. "

He moved from my side and forward toward that lovely, unreal figurewhich stood immediately before the model's throne and its backgroundof plush curtains. Karamaneh started forward to meet him, suppressing alittle cry, whose real anguish could not have been simulated. 

"Go back! go back!" she whispered urgently, and thrust out her handsagainst Smith's breast. "For God's sake, go back! I have risked my lifeto come here to-night. He knows, and is ready!"... 

The words were spoken with passionate intensity, and Nayland Smithhesitated. To my nostrils was wafted that faint, delightful perfumewhich, since one night, two years ago, it had come to disturb my senses, had taunted me many times as the mirage taunts the parched Saharatraveler. I took a step forward. 

"Don't move!" snapped Smith. 

Karamaneh clutched frenziedly at the lapels of his coat. 

"Listen to me!" she said, beseechingly and stamped one little foot uponthe floor--"listen to me! You are a clever man, but you know nothing ofa woman's heart--nothing--nothing--if seeing me, hearing me, knowing, as you do know, I risk, you can doubt that I speak the truth. And I tellyou that it is death to go behind those curtains--that he... "

"That's what I wanted to know!" snapped Smith. His voice quivered withexcitement. 

Suddenly grasping Karamaneh by the waist, he lifted her and set heraside; then in three bounds he was on to the model's throne and had tornthe Plush curtains bodily from their fastenings. 

How it occurred I cannot hope to make dear, for here my recollectionsmerge into a chaos. I know that Smith seemed to topple forward amid thepurple billows of velvet, and his muffled cry came to me:

"Petrie! My God, Petrie!"... 

The pale face of Karamaneh looked up into mine and her hands wereclutching me, but the glamour of her personality had lost its hold, for I knew--heavens, how poignantly it struck home to me!--that NaylandSmith was gone to his death. What I hoped to achieve, I know not, buthurling the trembling girl aside, I snatched the Browning pistol from mycoat pocket, and with the ray of the lamp directed upon the purple moundof velvet, I leaped forward. 

I think I realized that the curtains had masked a collapsible trap, asheer pit of blackness, an instant before I was precipitated into it, but certainly the knowledge came too late. With the sound of a soft, shuddering cry in my ears, I fell, dropping lamp and pistol, andclutching at the fallen hangings. But they offered me no support. Myhead seemed to be bursting; I could utter only a hoarse groan, as Ifell--fell--fell... 

When my mind began to work again, in returning consciousness, I found itto be laden with reproach. How often in the past had we blindly hurledourselves into just such a trap as this? Should we never learn thatwhere Fu-Manchu was, impetuosity must prove fatal? On two distinctoccasions in the past we had been made the victims of this device, yet even although we had had practically conclusive evidence that thisstudio was used by Dr. Fu-Manchu, we had relied upon its floor being assecure as that of any other studio, we had failed to sound every foot ofit ere trusting our weight to its support.... 

"There is such a divine simplicity in the English mind that one maylay one's plans with mathematical precision, and rely upon the NaylandSmiths and Dr. Petries to play their allotted parts. Excepting twofaithful followers, my friends are long since departed. But here, inthese vaults which time has overlooked and which are as secret and asserviceable to-day as they were two hundred years ago, I wait patiently, with my trap set, like the spider for the fly!... "

To the sound of that taunting voice, I opened my eyes. As I did so Istrove to spring upright--only to realize that I was tied fast to aheavy ebony chair inlaid with ivory, and attached by means of two ironbrackets to the floor. 

"Even children learn from experience, " continued the unforgettablevoice, alternately guttural and sibilant, but always as deliberate asthough the speaker were choosing with care words which should perfectlyclothe his thoughts. "For 'a burnt child fears the fire, ' says yourEnglish adage. But Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith, who enjoys theconfidence of the India Office, and who is empowered to control themovements of the Criminal Investigation Department, learns nothingfrom experience. He is less than a child, since he has twice rashlyprecipitated himself into a chamber charged with an anesthetic prepared, by a process of my own, from the lycoperdon or Common Puff-ball. "

I became fully master of my senses, and I became fully alive to astupendous fact. At last it was ended; we were utterly in the power ofDr. Fu-Manchu; our race was run. 

I sat in a low vaulted room. The roof was of ancient brickwork, but thewalls were draped with exquisite Chinese fabric having a green groundwhereon was a design representing a grotesque procession of whitepeacocks. A green carpet covered the floor, and the whole of thefurniture was of the same material as the chair to which I was strapped, viz:--ebony inlaid with ivory. This furniture was scanty. There was aheavy table in one corner of the dungeonesque place, on which were anumber of books and papers. Before this table was a high-backed, heavilycarven chair. A smaller table stood upon the right of the only visibleopening, a low door partially draped with bead work curtains, abovewhich hung a silver lamp. On this smaller table, a stick of incense, ina silver holder, sent up a pencil of vapor into the air, and thechamber was loaded with the sickly sweet fumes. A faint haze from theincense-stick hovered up under the roof. 

In the high-backed chair sat Dr. Fu-Manchu, wearing a green robe uponwhich was embroidered a design, the subject of which at first glancewas not perceptible, but which presently I made out to be a huge whitepeacock. He wore a little cap perched upon the dome of his amazingskull, and with one clawish hand resting upon the ebony of the table, hesat slightly turned toward me, his emotionless face a mask of incredibleevil. In spite of, or because of, the high intellect written upon it, the face of Dr. Fu-Manchu was more utterly repellent than any I haveever known, and the green eyes, eyes green as those of a cat in thedarkness, which sometimes burned like witch lamps, and sometimes werehorribly filmed like nothing human or imaginable, might have mirrorednot a soul, but an emanation of hell, incarnate in this gaunt, high-shouldered body. 

Stretched flat upon the floor lay Nayland Smith, partially stripped, hisarms thrown back over his head and his wrists chained to a stout ironstaple attached to the wall; he was fully conscious and staring intentlyat the Chinese doctor. His bare ankles also were manacled, and fixed toa second chain, which quivered tautly across the green carpet and passedout through the doorway, being attached to something beyond the curtain, and invisible to me from where I sat. 

Fu-Manchu was now silent. I could hear Smith's heavy breathing and hearmy watch ticking in my pocket. I suddenly realized that although mybody was lashed to the ebony chair, my hands and arms were free. Next, looking dazedly about me, my attention was drawn to a heavy sword whichstood hilt upward against the wall within reach of my hand. It was amagnificent piece, of Japanese workmanship; a long, curved Damascenedblade having a double-handed hilt of steel, inlaid with gold, andresembling fine Kuft work. A host of possibilities swept through mymind. Then I perceived that the sword was attached to the wall by a thinsteel chain some five feet in length. 

"Even if you had the dexterity of a Mexican knife-thrower, " came theguttural voice of Fu-Manchu, "you would be unable to reach me, dear Dr. Petrie. "

The Chinaman had read my thoughts. 

Smith turned his eyes upon me momentarily, only to look away again inthe direction of Fu-Manchu. My friend's face was slightly pale beneaththe tan, and his jaw muscles stood out with unusual prominence. By thisfact alone did he reveal his knowledge that he lay at the mercy ofthis enemy of the white race, of this inhuman being who himself knewno mercy, of this man whose very genius was inspired by the cool, calculated cruelty of his race, of that race which to this day disposesof hundreds, nay! thousands, of its unwanted girl-children by the simplemeasure of throwing them down a well specially dedicated to the purpose. 

"The weapon near your hand, " continued the Chinaman, imperturbably, "isa product of the civilization of our near neighbors, the Japanese, arace to whose courage I prostrate myself in meekness. It is the swordof a samurai, Dr. Petrie. It is of very great age, and was, until anunfortunate misunderstanding with myself led to the extinction of thefamily, a treasured possession of a noble Japanese house... "

The soft voice, into which an occasional sibilance crept, but whichnever rose above a cool monotone, gradually was lashing me into fury, and I could see the muscles moving in Smith's jaws as he convulsivelyclenched his teeth; whereby I knew that, impotent, he burned with a rageat least as great as mine. But I did not speak, and did not move. 

"The ancient tradition of seppuku, " continued the Chinaman, "orhara-kiri, still rules, as you know, in the great families of Japan. There is a sacred ritual, and the samurai who dedicates himself to thishonorable end, must follow strictly the ritual. As a physician, theexact nature of the ceremony might possibly interest you, Dr. Petrie, but a technical account of the two incisions which the sacrificantemploys in his self-dismissal, might, on the other hand, bore Mr. Nayland Smith. Therefore I will merely enlighten you upon one littlepoint, a minor one, but interesting to the student of human nature. In short, even a samurai--and no braver race has ever honored theworld--sometimes hesitates to complete the operation. The weapon near toyour hand, my dear Dr. Petrie, is known as the Friend's Sword. On suchoccasions as we are discussing, a trusty friend is given the post--anhonored one of standing behind the brave man who offers himself to hisgods, and should the latter's courage momentarily fail him, the friendwith the trusty blade (to which now I especially direct your attention)diverts the hierophant's mind from his digression, and rectifies histemporary breach of etiquette by severing the cervical vertebrae of thespinal column with the friendly blade--which you can reach quite easily, Dr. Petrie, if you care to extend your hand. "

Some dim perceptions of the truth was beginning to creep into my mind. When I say a perception of the truth, I mean rather of some part of thepurpose of Dr. Fu-Manchu; of the whole horrible truth, of the schemewhich had been conceived by that mighty, evil man, I had no glimmering, but I foresaw that a frightful ordeal was before us both. 

"That I hold you in high esteem, " continued Fu-Manchu, "is a fact whichmust be apparent to you by this time, but in regard to your companion, Ientertain very different sentiments.... "

Always underlying the deliberate calm of the speaker, sometimesshowing itself in an unusually deep guttural, sometimes in an unusuallyserpentine sibilance, lurked the frenzy of hatred which in the past hadrevealed itself occasionally in wild outbursts. Momentarily I expectedsuch an outburst now, but it did not come. 

"One quality possessed by Mr. Nayland Smith, " resumed the Chinaman, "Iadmire; I refer to his courage. I would wish that so courageous a manshould seek his own end, should voluntarily efface himself from the pathof that world-movement which he is powerless to check. In short, I wouldhave him show himself a samurai. Always his friend, you shall remain soto the end, Dr. Petrie. I have arranged for this. "

He struck lightly a little silver gong, dependent from the corner ofthe table, whereupon, from the curtained doorway, there entered a short, thickly built Burman whom I recognized for a dacoit. He wore a shoddyblue suit, which had been made for a much larger man; but these thingsclaimed little of my attention, which automatically was directed to theload beneath which the Burman labored. 

Upon his back he carried a sort of wire box rather less than six feetlong, some two feet high, and about two feet wide. In short, it was astout framework covered with fine wire-netting on the top, sidesand ends, but being open at the bottom. It seemed to be made in fivesections or to contain four sliding partitions which could be raised orlowered at will. These were of wood, and in the bottom of each was cuta little arch. The arches in the four partitions varied in size, so thatwhereas the first was not more than five inches high, the fourth openedalmost to the wire roof of the box or cage; and a fifth, which wasbut little higher than the first, was cut in the actual end of thecontrivance. 

So intent was I upon this device, the purpose of which I was whollyunable to divine, that I directed the whole of my attention upon it. Then, as the Burman paused in the doorway, resting a corner of the cageupon the brilliant carpet, I glanced toward Fu-Manchu. He was watchingNayland Smith, and revealing his irregular yellow teeth--the teeth of anopium smoker--in the awful mirthless smile which I knew. 

"God!" whispered Smith--"the Six Gates!"

"The knowledge of my beautiful country serves you well, " repliedFu-Manchu gently. 

Instantly I looked to my friend... And every drop of blood seemed torecede from my heart, leaving it cold in my breast. If I did not knowthe purpose of the cage, obviously Smith knew it all too well. Hispallor had grown more marked, and although his gray eyes stareddefiantly at the Chinaman, I, who knew him, could read a deathly horrorin their depths. 

The dacoit, in obedience to a guttural order from Dr. Fu-Manchu, placedthe cage upon the carpet, completely covering Smith's body, but leavinghis neck and head exposed. The seared and pock-marked face set in a sortof placid leer, the dacoit adjusted the sliding partitions to Smith'srecumbent form, and I saw the purpose of the graduated arches. Theywere intended to divide a human body in just such fashion, and, as Irealized, were most cunningly shaped to that end. The whole of Smith'sbody lay now in the wire cage, each of the five compartments whereof wasshut off from its neighbor. 

The Burman stepped back and stood waiting in the doorway. Dr. Fu-Manchu, removing his gaze from the face of my friend, directed it now upon me. 

"Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith shall have the honor of acting ashierophant, admitting himself to the Mysteries, " said Fu-Manchu softly, "and you, Dr. Petrie, shall be the Friend. "

CHAPTER XXIX. THE SIX GATES

He glanced toward the Burman, who retired immediately, to re-enter amoment later carrying a curious leather sack, in shape not unlike thatof a sakka or Arab water-carrier. Opening a little trap in the topof the first compartment of the cage (that is, the compartment whichcovered Smith's bare feet and ankles) he inserted the neck of the sack, then suddenly seized it by the bottom and shook it vigorously. Beforemy horrified gaze four huge rats came tumbling out from the bag into thecage! The dacoit snatched away the sack and snapped the shutter fast. Amoving mist obscured my sight, a mist through which I saw the greeneyes of Dr. Fu-Manchu fixed upon me, and through which, as from a greatdistance, his voice, sunk to a snake-like hiss, came to my ears. 

"Cantonese rats, Dr. Petrie, the most ravenous in the world... They haveeaten nothing for nearly a week!"

Then all became blurred as though a painter with a brush steeped in redhad smudged out the details of the picture. For an indefinite period, which seemed like many minutes yet probably was only a few seconds, Isaw nothing and heard nothing; my sensory nerves were dulled entirely. From this state I was awakened and brought back to the realities by asound which ever afterward I was doomed to associate with that ghastlyscene. 

This was the squealing of the rats. 

The red mist seemed to disperse at that, and with frightfully intenseinterest, I began to study the awful torture to which Nayland Smith wasbeing subjected. The dacoit had disappeared, and Fu-Manchu placidly waswatching the four lean and hideous animals in the cage. As I also turnedmy eyes in that direction, the rats overcame their temporary fear, andbegan... 

"You have been good enough to notice, " said the Chinaman, his voicestill sunk in that sibilant whisper, "my partiality for dumb allies. Youhave met my scorpions, my death-adders, my baboon-man. The uses of sucha playful little animal as a marmoset have never been fully appreciatedbefore, I think, but to an indiscretion of this last-named pet of mine, I seem to remember that you owed something in the past, Dr. Petrie... "

Nayland Smith stifled a deep groan. One rapid glance I ventured at hisface. It was a grayish hue, now, and dank with perspiration. His gazemet mine. 

The rats had almost ceased squealing. 

"Much depends upon yourself, Doctor, " continued Fu-Manchu, slightlyraising his voice. "I credit Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith with couragehigh enough to sustain the raising of all the gates; but I estimate thestrength of your friendship highly, also, and predict that you will usethe sword of the samurai certainly not later than the time when I shallraise the third gate.... "

A low shuddering sound, which I cannot hope to describe, but alas I cannever forget, broke from the lips of the tortured man. 

"In China, " resumed Fu-Manchu, "we call this quaint fancy the Six Gatesof joyful Wisdom. The first gate, by which the rats are admitted, iscalled the Gate of joyous Hope; the second, the Gate of Mirthful Doubt. The third gate is poetically named, the Gate of True Rapture, and thefourth, the Gate of Gentle Sorrow. I once was honored in the friendshipof an exalted mandarin who sustained the course of joyful Wisdom to theraising of the Fifth Gate (called the Gate of Sweet Desires) and theadmission of the twentieth rat. I esteem him almost equally with myancestors. The Sixth, or Gate Celestial--whereby a man enters into thejoy of Complete Understanding--I have dispensed with, here, substitutinga Japanese fancy of an antiquity nearly as great and honorable. Theintroduction of this element of speculation, I count a happy thought, and accordingly take pride to myself. "

"The sword, Petrie!" whispered Smith. I should not have recognized hisvoice, but he spoke quite evenly and steadily. "I rely upon you, oldman, to spare me the humiliation of asking mercy from that yellowfiend!"

My mind throughout this time had been gaining a sort of dreadfulclarity. I had avoided looking at the sword of hara-kiri, but mythoughts had been leading me mercilessly up to the point at which wewere now arrived. No vestige of anger, of condemnation of the inhumanbeing seated in the ebony chair, remained; that was past. Of all thathad gone before, and of what was to come in the future, I thoughtnothing, knew nothing. Our long fight against the yellow group, ourencounters with the numberless creatures of Fu-Manchu, the dacoits--evenKaramaneh--were forgotten, blotted out. I saw nothing of the strangeappointments of that subterranean chamber; but face to face with thesupreme moment of a lifetime, I was alone with my poor friend--and God. 

The rats began squealing again. They were fighting... 

"Quick, Petrie! Quick, man! I am weakening.... "

I turned and took up the samurai sword. My hands were very hot and dry, but perfectly steady, and I tested the edge of the heavy weapon upon myleft thumb-nail as quietly as one might test a razor blade. It wasas keen, this blade of ghastly history, as any razor ever wrought inSheffield. I seized the graven hilt, bent forward in my chair, andraised the Friend's Sword high above my head. With the heavy weaponpoised there, I looked into my friend's eyes. They were feverishlybright, but never in all my days, nor upon the many beds of sufferingwhich it had been my lot to visit, had I seen an expression like thatwithin them. 

"The raising of the First Gate is always a crucial moment, " came theguttural voice of the Chinaman. Although I did not see him, and barelyheard his words, I was aware that he had stood up and was bendingforward over the lower end of the cage. 

"Now, Petrie! now! God bless you... And good-by... "

From somewhere--somewhere remote--I heard a hoarse and animal-like cry, followed by the sound of a heavy fall. I can scarcely bear to write ofthat moment, for I had actually begun the downward sweep of the greatsword when that sound came--a faint Hope, speaking of aid where I hadthought no aid possible. 

How I contrived to divert the blade, I do not know to this day; but Ido know that its mighty sweep sheared a lock from Smith's head and laidbare the scalp. With the hilt in my quivering hands I saw the blade bitedeeply through the carpet and floor above Nayland Smith's skull. There, buried fully two inches in the woodwork, it stuck, and still clutchingthe hilt, I looked to the right and across the room--I looked to thecurtained doorway. 

Fu-Manchu, with one long, claw-like hand upon the top of the First Gate, was bending over the trap, but his brilliant green eyes were turned inthe same direction as my own--upon the curtained doorway. 

Upright within it, her beautiful face as pale as death, but her greateyes blazing with a sort of splendid madness, stood Karamaneh!

She looked, not at the tortured man, not at me, but fully at Dr. Fu-Manchu. One hand clutched the trembling draperies; now she suddenlyraised the other, so that the jewels on her white arm glittered in thelight of the lamp above the door. She held my Browning pistol! Fu-Manchusprang upright, inhaling sibilantly, as Karamaneh pointed the pistolpoint blank at his high skull and fired.... 

I saw a little red streak appear, up by the neutral colored hair, underthe black cap. I became as a detached intelligence, unlinked with thecorporeal, looking down upon a thing which for some reason I had neverthought to witness. 

Fu-Manchu threw up both arms, so that the sleeves of the green robefell back to the elbows. He clutched at his head, and the black capfell behind him. He began to utter short, guttural cries; he swayedbackward--to the right--to the left then lurched forward right acrossthe cage. There he lay, writhing, for a moment, his baneful eyes turnedup, revealing the whites; and the great gray rats, released, beganleaping about the room. Two shot like gray streaks past the slim figurein the doorway, one darted behind the chair to which I was lashed, and the fourth ran all around against the wall... Fu-Manchu, prostrateacross the overturned cage, lay still, his massive head saggingdownward. 

I experienced a mental repetition of my adventure in the earlierevening--I was dropping, dropping, dropping into some bottomless pit ... Warm arms were about my neck; and burning kisses upon my lips. 

CHAPTER XXX. THE CALL OF THE EAST

I seemed to haul myself back out of the pit of unconsciousness by theaid of two little hands which clasped my own. I uttered a sigh that wasalmost a sob, and opened my eyes. 

I was sitting in the big red-leathern armchair in my own study... And alovely but truly bizarre figure, in a harem dress, was kneeling on thecarpet at my feet; so that my first sight of the world was the sweetestsight that the world had to offer me, the dark eyes of Karamaneh, withtears trembling like jewels upon her lashes!

I looked no further than that, heeded not if there were others in theroom beside we two, but, gripping the jewel-laden fingers in what musthave been a cruel clasp, I searched the depths of the glorious eyesin ever growing wonder. What change had taken place in those limpid, mysterious pools? Why was a wild madness growing up within me like aflame? Why was the old longing returned, ten-thousandfold, to snatchthat pliant, exquisite shape to my breast?

No word was spoken, but the spoken words of a thousand ages could nothave expressed one tithe of what was held in that silent communion. Ahand was laid hesitatingly on my shoulder. I tore my gaze away from thelovely face so near to mine, and glanced up. 

Aziz stood at the back of my chair. 

"God is all merciful, " he said. "My sister is restored to us" (I lovedhim for the plural); "and she remembers. "

Those few words were enough; I understood now that this lovely girl, whohalf knelt, half lay, at my feet, was not the evil, perverted creatureof Fu-Manchu whom we had gone out to arrest with the other vile servantsof the Chinese doctor, but was the old, beloved companion of two yearsago, the Karamaneh for whom I had sought long and wearily in Egypt, whohad been swallowed up and lost to me in that land of mystery. 

The loss of memory which Fu-Manchu had artificially induced was subjectto the same inexplicable laws which ordinarily rule in cases of amnesia. The shock of her brave action that night had begun to effect a cure; thesight of Aziz had completed it. 

Inspector Weymouth was standing by the writing-table. My mind clearedrapidly now, and standing up, but without releasing the girl's hands, sothat I drew her up beside me, I said:

"Weymouth--where is--?"

"He's waiting to see you, Doctor, " replied the inspector. 

A pang, almost physical, struck at my heart. 

"Poor, dear old Smith!" I cried, with a break in my voice. 

Dr. Gray, a neighboring practitioner, appeared in the doorway at themoment that I spoke the words. 

"It's all right, Petrie, " he said, reassuringly; "I think we took itin time. I have thoroughly cauterized the wounds, and granted that nocomplication sets in, he'll be on his feet again in a week or two. "

I suppose I was in a condition closely bordering upon the hysterical. Atany rate, my behavior was extraordinary. I raised both my hands above myhead. 

"Thank God!" I cried at the top of my voice, "thank God!--thank God!"

"Thank Him, indeed, " responded the musical voice of Aziz. He spoke withall the passionate devoutness of the true Moslem. 

Everything, even Karamaneh was forgotten, and I started for the door asthough my life depended upon my speed. With one foot upon the landing, Iturned, looked back, and met the glance of Inspector Weymouth. 

"What have you done with--the body?" I asked. 

"We haven't been able to get to it. That end of the vault collapsed twominutes after we hauled you out!"

As I write, now, of those strange days, already they seem remote andunreal. But, where other and more dreadful memories already are grownmisty, the memory of that evening in my rooms remains clear-cut andintimate. It marked a crisis in my life. 

During the days that immediately followed, whilst Smith was slowlyrecovering from his hurts, I made my plans deliberately; I prepared tocut myself off from old associations--prepared to exile myself, gladly;how gladly I cannot hope to express in mere cold words. 

That my friend approved of my projects, I cannot truthfully state, buthis disapproval at least was not openly expressed. To Karamaneh I saidnothing of my plans, but her complete reliance in my powers to protecther, now, from all harm, was at once pathetic and exquisite. 

Since, always, I have sought in these chronicles to confine myself tothe facts directly relating to the malignant activity of Dr. Fu-Manchu, I shall abstain from burdening you with details of my private affairs. As an instrument of the Chinese doctor, it has sometimes been my dutyto write of the beautiful Eastern girl; I cannot suppose that my readershave any further curiosity respecting her from the moment that Fatefreed her from that awful servitude. Therefore, when I shall havedealt with the episodes which marked our voyage to Egypt--I had openednegotiations in regard to a practice in Cairo--I may honorably lay downmy pen. 

These episodes opened, dramatically, upon the second night of the voyagefrom Marseilles. 

CHAPTER XXXI. "MY SHADOW LIES UPON YOU"

I suppose I did not awake very readily. Following the nervous vigilanceof the past six months, my tired nerves, in the enjoyment of thisrelaxation, were rapidly recuperating. I no longer feared to awake tofind a knife at my throat, no longer dreaded the darkness as a foe. 

So that the voice may have been calling (indeed, had been calling) forsome time, and of this I had been hazily conscious before finally Iawoke. Then, ere the new sense of security came to reassure me, the oldsense of impending harm set my heart leaping nervously. There is alwaysa certain physical panic attendant upon such awakening in the stillof night, especially in novel surroundings. Now, I sat up abruptly, clutching at the rail of my berth and listening. 

There was a soft thudding on my cabin door, and a voice, low and urgent, was crying my name. 

Through the open porthole the moonlight streamed into my room, and savefor a remote and soothing throb, inseparable from the progress of agreat steamship, nothing else disturbed the stillness; I might havefloated lonely upon the bosom of the Mediterranean. But there was thedrumming on the door again, and the urgent appeal:

"Dr. Petrie! Dr. Petrie!"

I threw off the bedclothes and stepped on to the floor of the cabin, fumbling hastily for my slippers. A fear that something was amiss, thatsome aftermath, some wraith of the dread Chinaman, was yet to come todisturb our premature peace, began to haunt me. I threw open the door. 

Upon the gleaming deck, blackly outlined against a wondrous sky, stooda man who wore a blue greatcoat over his pyjamas, and whose unstockingedfeet were thrust into red slippers. It was Platts, the Marconi operator. 

"I'm awfully sorry to disturb you, Dr. Petrie, " he said, "and I was evenless anxious to arouse your neighbor; but somebody seems to be trying toget a message, presumably urgent, through to you. "

"To me!" I cried. 

"I cannot make it out, " admitted Platts, running his fingers throughdisheveled hair, "but I thought it better to arouse you. Will you comeup?"

I turned without a word, slipped into my dressing-gown, and with Plattspassed aft along the deserted deck. The sea was as calm as a greatlake. Ahead, on the port bow, an angry flambeau burned redly beneath thepeaceful vault of the heavens. Platts nodded absently in the directionof the weird flames. 

"Stromboli, " he said; "we shall be nearly through the Straits bybreakfast-time. "

We mounted the narrow stair to the Marconi deck. At the table satPlatts' assistant with the Marconi attachment upon his head--anapparatus which always set me thinking of the electric chair. 

"Have you got it?" demanded my companion as we entered the room. 

"It's still coming through, " replied the other without moving, "but inthe same jerky fashion. Every time I get it, it seems to have gone backto the beginning--just Dr. Petrie--Dr. Petrie. "

He began to listen again for the elusive message. I turned to Platts. 

"Where is it being sent from?" I asked. 

Platts shook his head. 

"That's the mystery, " he declared. "Look!"--and he pointed to the table;"according to the Marconi chart, there's a Messagerie boat due westbetween us and Marseilles, and the homeward-bound P. & O. Which wepassed this morning must be getting on that way also, by now. The Isisis somewhere ahead, but I've spoken to all these, and the message comesfrom none of them. "

"Then it may come from Messina. "

"It doesn't come from Messina, " replied the man at the table, beginningto write rapidly. 

Platts stepped forward and bent over the message which the other waswriting. 

"Here it is!" he cried, excitedly; "we're getting it. "

Stepping in turn to the table, I leaned over between the two and readthese words as the operator wrote them down:

Dr. Petrie--my shadow... 

I drew a quick breath and gripped Platts' shoulder harshly. Hisassistant began fingering the instrument with irritation. 

"Lost it again!" he muttered. 

"This message, " I began... 

But again the pencil was traveling over the paper:--lies upon youall... End of message. 

The operator stood up and unclasped the receivers from his ears. There, high above the sleeping ship's company, with the carpet of the blueMediterranean stretched indefinitely about us, we three stood looking atone another. By virtue of a miracle of modern science, some one, dividedfrom me by mile upon mile of boundless ocean, had spoken--and had beenheard. 

"Is there no means of learning, " I said, "from whence this messageemanated?"

Platts shook his head, perplexedly. 

"They gave no code word, " he said. "God knows who they were. It's astrange business and a strange message. Have you any sort of idea, Dr. Petrie, respecting the identity of the sender?"

I stared him hard in the face; an idea had mechanically entered my mind, but one of which I did not choose to speak, since it was opposed tohuman possibility. 

But, had I not seen with my own eyes the bloody streak across hisforehead as the shot fired by Karamaneh entered his high skull, had Inot known, so certainly as it is given to man to know, that the giantintellect was no more, the mighty will impotent, I should have replied:

"The message is from Dr. Fu-Manchu!"

My reflections were rudely terminated and my sinister thoughts given newstimulus, by a loud though muffled cry which reached me from somewherein the ship, below. Both my companions started as violently as I, whereby I knew that the mystery of the wireless message had not beenwithout its effect upon their minds also. But whereas they paused indoubt, I leaped from the room and almost threw myself down the ladder. 

It was Karamaneh who had uttered that cry of fear and horror!

Although I could perceive no connection betwixt the strange message andthe cry in the night, intuitively I linked them, intuitively I knew thatmy fears had been well-grounded; that the shadow of Fu-Manchu still layupon us. 

Karamaneh occupied a large stateroom aft on the main deck; so that I hadto descend from the upper deck on which my own room was situated to thepromenade deck, again to the main deck and thence proceed nearly thewhole length of the alleyway. 

Karamaneh and her brother, Aziz, who occupied a neighboring room, metme, near the library. Karamaneh's eyes were wide with fear; her peerlesscoloring had fled, and she was white to the lips. Aziz, who worea dressing-gown thrown hastily over his night attire, had his armprotectively about the girl's shoulders. 

"The mummy!" she whispered tremulously--"the mummy!"

There came a sound of opening doors, and several passengers, whomKaramaneh cries had alarmed, appeared in various stages of undress. Astewardess came running from the far end of the alleyway, and I foundtime to wonder at my own speed; for, starting from the distant Marconideck, yet I had been the first to arrive upon the scene. 

Stacey, the ship's doctor, was quartered at no great distance fromthe spot, and he now joined the group. Anticipating the question whichtrembled upon the lips of several of those about me:

"Come to Dr. Stacey's room, " I said, taking Karamaneh arm; "we willgive you something to enable you to sleep. " I turned to the group. "Mypatient has had severe nerve trouble, " I explained, "and has developedsomnambulistic tendencies. "

I declined the stewardess' offer of assistance, with a slight shake ofthe head, and shortly the four of us entered the doctor's cabin, onthe deck above. Stacey carefully closed the door. He was an oldfellow student of mine, and already he knew much of the history of thebeautiful Eastern girl and her brother Aziz. 

"I fear there's mischief afoot, Petrie, " he said. 

"Thanks to your presence of mind, the ship's gossips need know nothingof it. "

I glanced at Karamaneh who, since the moment of my arrival had neveronce removed her gaze from me; she remained in that state of passivefear in which I had found her, the lovely face pallid; and she stared atme fixedly in a childish, expressionless way which made me fear that theshock to which she had been subjected, whatever its nature, had causeda relapse into that strange condition of forgetfulness from which aprevious shock had aroused her. I could see that Stacey shared my view, for:

"Something has frightened you, " he said gently, seating himself on thearm of Karamaneh's chair and patting her hand as if to reassure her. "Tell us all about it. "

For the first time since our meeting that night, the girl turned hereyes from me and glanced up at Stacey, a sudden warm blush stealing overher face and throat and as quickly departing, to leave her even morepale than before. She grasped Stacey's hand in both her own--and lookedagain at me. 

"Send for Mr. Nayland Smith without delay!" she said, and her sweetvoice was slightly tremulous. "He must be put on his guard!"

I started up. 

"Why?" I said. "For God's sake tell us what has happened!"

Aziz who evidently was as anxious as myself for information, and who nowknelt at his sister's feet looking at her with that strange love, whichwas almost adoration, in his eyes, glanced back at me and nodded hishead rapidly. 

"Something"--Karamaneh paused, shuddering violently--"some dreadfulthing, like a mummy escaped from its tomb, came into my room to-nightthrough the porthole... "

"Through the porthole?" echoed Stacey, amazedly. 

"Yes, yes, through the porthole! A creature tall and very, very thin. Hewore wrappings--yellow wrappings--swathed about his head, so that onlyhis eyes, his evil gleaming eyes, were visible.... From waist to kneeshe was covered, also, but his body, his feet, and his legs were bare... "

"Was he--?" I began... 

"He was a brown man, yes, "--Karamaneh divining my question, nodded, andthe shimmering cloud of her wonderful hair, hastily confined, burstfree and rippled about her shoulders. "A gaunt, fleshless brown man, whobent, and writhed bony fingers--so!"

"A thug!" I cried. 

"He--it--the mummy thing--would have strangled me if I had slept, for hecrouched over the berth--seeking--seeking... "

I clenched my teeth convulsively. 

"But I was sitting up--"

"With the light on?" interrupted Stacey in surprise. 

"No, " added Karamaneh; "the light was out. " She turned her eyes towardme, as the wonderful blush overspread her face once more. "I was sittingthinking. It all happened within a few seconds, and quite silently. Asthe mummy crouched over the berth, I unlocked the door and leaped outinto the passage. I think I screamed; I did not mean to. Oh, Dr. Stacey, there is not a moment to spare! Mr. Nayland Smith must be warnedimmediately. Some horrible servant of Dr. Fu-Manchu is on the ship!"

CHAPTER XXXII. THE TRAGEDY

Nayland Smith leaned against the edge of the dressing-table, attired inpyjamas. The little stateroom was hazy with smoke, and my friend grippedthe charred briar between his teeth and watched the blue-gray cloudsarising from the bowl, in an abstracted way. I knew that he was thinkinghard, and from the fact that he had exhibited no surprise when I hadrelated to him the particular's of the attack upon Karamaneh I judgedthat he had half anticipated something of the kind. Suddenly he stoodup, staring at me fixedly. 

"Your tact has saved the situation, Petrie, " he snapped. "It failed youmomentarily, though, when you proposed to me just now that we shouldmuster the lascars for inspection. Our game is to pretend that we knownothing--that we believe Karamaneh to have had a bad dream. "

"But, Smith, " I began--

"It would be useless, Petrie, " he interrupted me. "You cannot supposethat I overlooked the possibility of some creature of the doctor's beingamong the lascars. I can assure you that not one of them answers to thedescription of the midnight assailant. From the girl's account we haveto look (discarding the idea of a revivified mummy) for a man of unusualheight--and there's no lascar of unusual height on board; and from thevisible evidence, that he entered the stateroom through the porthole, wehave to look for a man more than normally thin. In a word, the servantof Dr. Fu-Manchu who attempted the life of Karamaneh is either in hidingon the ship, or, if visible, is disguised. "

With his usual clarity of vision, Nayland Smith had visualized the factsof the case; I passed in mental survey each one of the passengers, andthose of the crew whose appearances were familiar to me, with the resultthat I had to admit the justice of my friend's conclusions. Smith beganto pace the narrow strip of carpet between the dressing-table and thedoor. Suddenly he began again. "From our knowledge of Fu-Manchu and ofthe group surrounding him (and, don't forget, surviving him)--we mayfurther assume that the wireless message was no gratuitous piece ofmelodrama, but that it was directed to a definite end. Let us endeavorto link up the chain a little. You occupy an upper deck berth; so doI. Experience of the Chinaman has formed a habit in both of us; that ofsleeping with closed windows. Your port was fastened and so was my own. Karamaneh is quartered on the main deck, and her brother's stateroomopens into the same alleyway. Since the ship is in the Straits ofMessina, and the glass set fair, the stewards have not closed theportholes nightly at present. We know that that of Karamaneh's stateroomwas open. Therefore, in any attempt upon our quartet, Karamaneh wouldautomatically be selected for the victim, since failing you or myselfshe may be regarded as being the most obnoxious to Dr. Fu-Manchu. "

I nodded comprehendingly. Smith's capacity for throwing the white lightof reason into the darkest places often amazed me. 

"You may have noticed, " he continued, "that Karamaneh's room is directlybelow your own. In the event of any outcry, you would be sooner upon thescene than I should, for instance, because I sleep on the oppositeside of the ship. This circumstance I take to be the explanation of thewireless message, which, because of its hesitancy (a piece of ingenuityvery characteristic of the group), led to your being awakened andinvited up to the Marconi deck; in short, it gave the would-be assassina better chance of escaping before your arrival. "

I watched my friend in growing wonder. The strange events, seeminglyhaving no link, took their places in the drama, and became well-orderedepisodes in a plot that only a criminal genius could have devised. AsI studied the keen, bronzed face, I realized to the full the stupendousmental power of Dr. Fu-Manchu, measuring it by the criterion of NaylandSmith's. For the cunning Chinaman, in a sense, had foiled this brilliantman before me, whereby, if by nought else, I might know him a master ofhis evil art. 

"I regard the episode, " continued Smith, "as a posthumous attempt ofthe doctor's; a legacy of hate which may prove more disastrous than anyattempt made upon us by Fu-Manchu in life. Some fiendish member of themurder group is on board the ship. We must, as always, meet guile withguile. There must be no appeal to the captain, no public examination ofpassengers and crew. One attempt has failed; I do not doubt thatothers will be made. At present, you will enact the role ofphysician-in-attendance upon Karamaneh, and will put it about for whomit may interest that a slight return of her nervous trouble is causingher to pass uneasy nights. I can safely leave this part of the case toyou, I think?"

I nodded rapidly. 

"I haven't troubled to make inquiries, " added Smith, "but I think itprobable that the regulation respecting closed ports will come intooperation immediately we have passed the Straits, or at any rateimmediately there is any likelihood of bad weather. "

"You mean--"

"I mean that no alteration should be made in our habits. A secondattempt along similar lines is to be apprehended--to-night. After thatwe may begin to look out for a new danger. "

"I pray we may avoid it, " I said fervently. 

As I entered the saloon for breakfast in the morning, I was subjected tosolicitous inquiries from Mrs. Prior, the gossip of the ship. Her roomadjoined Karamaneh's and she had been one of the passengers aroused bythe girl's cries in the night. Strictly adhering to my role, I explainedthat my patient was threatened with a second nervous breakdown, and wassubject to vivid and disturbing dreams. One or two other inquiries I metin the same way, ere escaping to the corner table reserved to us. 

That iron-bound code of conduct which rules the Anglo-Indian, in thefirst days of the voyage had threatened to ostracize Karamaneh and Aziz, by reason of the Eastern blood to which their brilliant but peculiartype of beauty bore witness. Smith's attitude, however--and, in aBurmese commissioner, it constituted something of a law--had done muchto break down the barriers; the extraordinary beauty of the girl haddone the rest. So that now, far from finding themselves shunned, thesociety of Karamaneh and her romantic-looking brother was universallycourted. The last inquiry that morning, respecting my interestingpatient, came from the bishop of Damascus, a benevolent old gentlemanwhose ancestry was not wholly innocent of Oriental strains, and who satat a table immediately behind me. As I settled down to my porridge, heturned his chair slightly and bent to my ear. 

"Mrs. Prior tells me that your charming friend was disturbed lastnight, " he whispered. "She seems rather pale this morning; I sincerelytrust that she is suffering no ill-effect. "

I swung around, with a smile. Owing to my carelessness, there was aslight collision, and the poor bishop, who had been invalided to Englandafter typhoid, in order to undergo special treatment, suppressed anexclamation of pain, although his fine dark eyes gleamed kindly upon methrough the pebbles of his gold-rimmed pince-nez. 

Indeed, despite his Eastern blood, he might have posed for a Sadlerpicture, his small and refined features seeming out of place above thebulky body. 

"Can you forgive my clumsiness, " I began--

But the bishop raised his small, slim fingered hand of old ivory hue, deprecatingly. 

His system was supercharged with typhoid bacilli, and, as sometimesoccurs, the superfluous "bugs" had sought exit. He could only walk withthe aid of two stout sticks, and bent very much at that. His left leghad been surgically scraped to the bone, and I appreciated the exquisitetorture to which my awkwardness had subjected him. But he wouldentertain no apologies, pressing his inquiry respecting Karamaneh in thekindly manner which had made him so deservedly popular on board. 

"Many thanks for your solicitude, " I said; "I have promised her soundrepose to-night, and since my professional reputation is at stake, Ishall see that she secures it. "

In short, we were in pleasant company, and the day passed happily enoughand without notable event. Smith spent some considerable time with thechief officer, wandering about unfrequented parts of the ship. I learnedlater that he had explored the lascars' quarters, the forecastle, theengine-room, and had even descended to the stokehold; but this was doneso unostentatiously that it occasioned no comment. 

With the approach of evening, in place of that physical contentmentwhich usually heralds the dinner-hour, at sea, I experienced a fit ofthe seemingly causeless apprehension which too often in the past hadharbingered the coming of grim events; which I had learnt to associatewith the nearing presence of one of Fu-Manchu's death-agents. In view ofthe facts, as I afterwards knew them to be, I cannot account for this. 

Yet, in an unexpected manner, my forebodings were realized. That night Iwas destined to meet a sorrow surpassing any which my troubled life hadknown. Even now I experience great difficulty in relating the matterswhich befell, in speaking of the sense of irrevocable loss which came tome. Briefly, then, at about ten minutes before the dining hour, whilstall the passengers, myself included, were below, dressing, a faint cryarose from somewhere aft on the upper deck--a cry which was swiftlytaken up by other voices, so that presently a deck steward echoed itimmediately outside my own stateroom:

"Man overboard! Man overboard!"

All my premonitions rallying in that one sickening moment, I sprangout on the deck, half dressed as I was, and leaping past the boat whichswung nearly opposite my door, craned over the rail, looking astern. 

For a long time I could detect nothing unusual. The engine-roomtelegraph was ringing--and the motion of the screws momentarily ceased;then, in response to further ringing, recommenced, but so as to jarthe whole structure of the vessel; whereby I knew that the engines werereversed. Peering intently into the wake of the ship, I was but dimlyaware of the ever growing turmoil around me, of the swift mustering of aboat's crew, of the shouted orders of the third-officer. Suddenly I sawit--the sight which was to haunt me for succeeding days and nights. 

Half in the streak of the wake and half out of it, I perceived thesleeve of a white jacket, and, near to it, a soft felt hat. The sleeverose up once into clear view, seemed to describe a half-circle in theair then sink back again into the glassy swell of the water. Only thehat remained floating upon the surface. 

By the evidence of the white sleeve alone I might have remainedunconvinced, although upon the voyage I had become familiar enough withthe drill shooting-jacket, but the presence of the gray felt hat wasalmost conclusive. 

The man overboard was Nayland Smith!

I cannot hope, writing now, to convey in any words at my command, asense, even remote, of the utter loneliness which in that dreadfulmoment closed coldly down upon me. 

To spring overboard to the rescue was a natural impulse, but to haveobeyed it would have been worse than quixotic. In the first place, thedrowning man was close upon half a mile astern; in the second place, others had seen the hat and the white coat as clearly as I; among themthe third-officer, standing upright in the stern of the boat--which, with commendable promptitude had already been swung into the water. Thesteamer was being put about, describing a wide arc around the littleboat dancing on the deep blue rollers.... 

Of the next hour, I cannot bear to write at all. Long as I had knownhim, I was ignorant of my friend's powers as a swimmer, but I judgedthat he must have been a poor one from the fact that he had sunkso rapidly in a calm sea. Except the hat, no trace of Nayland Smithremained when the boat got to the spot. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE MUMMY

Dinner was out of the question that night for all of us. Karamaneh whohad spoken no word, but, grasping my hands, had looked into my eyes--herown glassy with unshed tears--and then stolen away to her cabin, had notsince reappeared. Seated upon my berth, I stared unseeingly before me, upon a changed ship, a changed sea and sky upon another world. The poorold bishop, my neighbor, had glanced in several times, as he hobbled by, and his spectacles were unmistakably humid; but even he had vouchsafedno word, realizing that my sorrow was too deep for such consolation. 

When at last I became capable of connected thought, I found myself facedby a big problem. Should I place the facts of the matter, as I knewthem to be, before the captain? or could I hope to apprehend Fu-Manchu'sservant by the methods suggested by my poor friend? That Smith's deathwas an accident, I did not believe for a moment; it was impossible notto link it with the attempt upon Karamaneh. In my misery and doubt, Idetermined to take counsel with Dr. Stacey. I stood up, and passed outon to the deck. 

Those passengers whom I met on my way to his room regarded me inrespectful silence. By contrast, Stacey's attitude surprised and evenannoyed me. 

"I'd be prepared to stake all I possess--although it's not much, " hesaid, "that this was not the work of your hidden enemy. "

He blankly refused to give me his reasons for the statement and stronglyadvised me to watch and wait but to make no communication to thecaptain. 

At this hour I can look back and savor again something of the profounddejection of that time. I could not face the passengers; I even avoidedKaramaneh and Aziz. I shut myself in my cabin and sat staring aimlesslyinto the growing darkness. The steward knocked, once, inquiring if Ineeded anything, but I dismissed him abruptly. So I passed the eveningand the greater part of the night. 

Those groups of promenaders who passed my door, invariably werediscussing my poor friend's tragic end; but as the night wore on, thedeck grew empty, and I sat amid a silence that in my miserable state Iwelcomed more than the presence of any friend, saving only the one whomI should never welcome again. 

Since I had not counted the bells, to this day I have only the vaguestidea respecting the time whereat the next incident occurred which itis my duty to chronicle. Perhaps I was on the verge of falling asleep, seated there as I was; at any rate, I could scarcely believe myselfawake, when, unheralded by any footsteps to indicate his coming, someone who seemed to be crouching outside my stateroom, slightly raisedhimself and peered in through the porthole--which I had not troubled toclose. 

He must have been a fairly tall man to have looked in at all, andalthough his features were indistinguishable in the darkness, hisoutline, which was clearly perceptible against the white boat beyond, was unfamiliar to me. He seemed to have a small, and oddly swathed head, and what I could make out of the gaunt neck and square shoulders in someway suggested an unnatural thinness; in short, the smudgy silhouette inthe porthole was weirdly like that of a mummy!

For some moments I stared at the apparition; then, rousing myself fromthe apathy into which I had sunk, I stood up very quickly and steppedacross the room. As I did so the figure vanished, and when I threw openthe door and looked out upon the deck... The deck was wholly untenanted!

I realized at once that it would be useless, even had I chosen thecourse, to seek confirmation of what I had seen from the officer onthe bridge: my own berth, together with the one adjoining--that of thebishop--was not visible from the bridge. 

For some time I stood in my doorway, wondering in a disinterestedfashion which now I cannot explain, if the hidden enemy had revealedhimself to me, or if disordered imagination had played me a trick. Later, I was destined to know the truth of the matter, but when at lastI fell into a troubled sleep, that night, I was still in some doubt uponthe point. 

My state of mind when I awakened on the following day was indescribable;I found it difficult to doubt that Nayland Smith would meet me on theway to the bathroom as usual, with the cracked briar fuming between histeeth. I felt myself almost compelled to pass around to his stateroom inorder to convince myself that he was not really there. The catastrophewas still unreal to me, and the world a dream-world. Indeed I retainscarcely any recollections of the traffic of that day, or of the daysthat followed it until we reached Port Said. 

Two things only made any striking appeal to my dulled intelligence atthat time. These were: the aloof attitude of Dr. Stacey, who seemedcarefully to avoid me; and a curious circumstance which the secondofficer mentioned in conversation one evening as we strolled up and downthe main deck together. 

"Either I was fast asleep at my post, Dr. Petrie, " he said, "or lastnight, in the middle watch, some one or something came over the side ofthe ship just aft the bridge, slipped across the deck, and disappeared. "

I stared at him wonderingly. 

"Do you mean something that came up out of the sea?" I said. 

"Nothing could very well have come up out of the sea, " he replied, smiling slightly, "so that it must have come up from the deck below. "

"Was it a man?"

"It looked like a man, and a fairly tall one, but he came and was gonelike a flash, and I saw no more of him up to the time I was relieved. To tell you the truth, I did not report it because I thought I must havebeen dozing; it's a dead slow watch, and the navigation on this part ofthe run is child's play. "

I was on the point of telling him what I had seen myself, two eveningsbefore, but for some reason I refrained from doing so, although I thinkhad I confided in him he would have abandoned the idea that what he hadseen was phantasmal; for the pair of us could not very well have beendreaming. Some malignant presence haunted the ship; I could not doubtthis; yet I remained passive, sunk in a lethargy of sorrow. 

We were scheduled to reach Port Said at about eight o'clock in theevening, but by reason of the delay occasioned so tragically, I learnedthat in all probability we should not arrive earlier than midnight, whilst passengers would not go ashore until the following morning. Karamaneh who had been staring ahead all day, seeking a first glimpseof her native land, was determined to remain up until the hour of ourarrival, but after dinner a notice was posted up that we should not bein before two A. M. Even those passengers who were the most enthusiasticthereupon determined to postpone, for a few hours, their first glimpseof the land of the Pharaohs and even to forego the sight--one of thestrangest and most interesting in the world--of Port Said by night. 

For my own part, I confess that all the interest and hope with whichI had looked forward to our arrival, had left me, and often I detectedtears in the eyes of Karamaneh whereby I knew that the coldness in myheart had manifested itself even to her. I had sustained the greatestblow of my life, and not even the presence of so lovely a companioncould entirely recompense me for the loss of my dearest friend. 

The lights on the Egyptian shore were faintly visible when the lastgroup of stragglers on deck broke up. I had long since prevailed uponKaramaneh to retire, and now, utterly sick at heart, I sought my ownstateroom, mechanically undressed, and turned in. 

It may, or may not be singular that I had neglected all precautionssince the night of the tragedy; I was not even conscious of a desire tovisit retribution upon our hidden enemy; in some strange fashion I tookit for granted that there would be no further attempts upon Karamaneh, Aziz, or myself. I had not troubled to confirm Smith's surmiserespecting the closing of the portholes; but I know now for a fact that, whereas they had been closed from the time of our leaving the Straitsof Messina, to-night, in sight of the Egyptian coast, the regulation wasrelaxed again. I cannot say if this is usual, but that it occurred onthis ship is a fact to which I can testify--a fact to which my attentionwas to be drawn dramatically. 

The night was steamingly hot, and because I welcomed the circumstancethat my own port was widely opened, I reflected that those on the lowerdecks might be open also. A faint sense of danger stirred within me;indeed, I sat upright and was about to spring out of my berth when thatoccurred which induced me to change my mind. 

All passengers had long since retired, and a midnight silence descendedupon the ship, for we were not yet close enough to port for any unusualactivities to have commenced. 

Clearly outlined in the open porthole there suddenly arose that samegrotesque silhouette which I had seen once before. 

Prompted by I know not what, I lay still and simulated heavy breathing;for it was evident to me that I must be partly visible to the watcher, so bright was the night. For ten--twenty--thirty seconds he studied mein absolute silence, that gaunt thing so like a mummy; and, with myeyes partly closed, I watched him, breathing heavily all the time. Then, making no more noise than a cat, he moved away across the deck, andI could judge of his height by the fact that his small, swathed headremained visible almost to the time that he passed to the end of thewhite boat which swung opposite my stateroom. 

In a moment I slipped quietly to the floor, crossed, and peered outof the porthole; so that at last I had a clear view of the sinistermummy-man. He was crouching under the bow of the boat, and attachingto the white rails, below, a contrivance of a kind with which I wasnot entirely unfamiliar. This was a thin ladder of silken rope, havingbamboo rungs, with two metal hooks for attaching it to any suitableobject. 

The one thus engaged was, as Karamaneh had declared, almost superhumanlythin. His loins were swathed in a sort of linen garment, and his headso bound about, turban fashion, that only his gleaming eyes remainedvisible. The bare limbs and body were of a dusky yellow color, and, atsight of him, I experienced a sudden nausea. 

My pistol was in my cabin-trunk, and to have found it in the dark, without making a good deal of noise, would have been impossible. Doubting how I should act, I stood watching the man with the swathedhead whilst he threw the end of the ladder over the side, crept past thebow of the boat, and swung his gaunt body over the rail, exhibiting theagility of an ape. One quick glance fore and aft he gave, then began toswarm down the ladder: in which instant I knew his mission. 

With a choking cry, which forced itself unwilled from my lips, I tore atthe door, threw it open, and sprang across the deck. Plans, I had none, and since I carried no instrument wherewith to sever the ladder, themurderer might indeed have carried out his design for all that I couldhave done to prevent him, were it not that another took a hand in thegame.... 

At the moment that the mummy-man--his head now on a level with thedeck--perceived me, he stopped dead. Coincident with his stopping, thecrack of a pistol shot sounded--from immediately beyond the boat. 

Uttering a sort of sobbing sound, the creature fell--then clutched, with straining yellow fingers, at the rails, and, seemingly by dint ofa great effort, swarmed along aft some twenty feet, with incredibleswiftness and agility, and clambered onto the deck. 

A second shot cracked sharply; and a voice (God! was I mad!) cried:"Hold him, Petrie!"

Rigid with fearful astonishment I stood, as out from the boat aboveme leaped a figure attired solely in shirt and trousers. The newcomerleaped away in the wake of the mummy-man--who had vanished around thecorner by the smoke-room. Over his shoulder he cried back at me:

"The bishop's stateroom! See that no one enters!"

I clutched at my head--which seemed to be fiery hot; I realized in myown person the sensation of one who knows himself mad. 

For the man who pursued the mummy was Nayland Smith!

 * * * * *

I stood in the bishop's state-room, Nayland Smith, his gaunt face wetwith perspiration, beside me, handling certain odd looking objects whichlittered the place, and lay about amid the discarded garments of theabsent cleric. 

"Pneumatic pads!" he snapped. "The man was a walking air-cushion!" Hegingerly fingered two strange rubber appliances. "For distending thecheeks, " he muttered, dropping them disgustedly on the floor. "His handsand wrists betrayed him, Petrie. He wore his cuff unusually long buthe could not entirely hide his bony wrists. To have watched him, whilstremaining myself unseen, was next to impossible; hence my deviceof tossing a dummy overboard, calculated to float for less than tenminutes! It actually floated nearly fifteen, as a matter of fact, and Ihad some horrible moments!"

"Smith!" I said--"how could you submit me... "

He clapped his hands on my shoulders. 

"My dear old chap--there was no other way, believe me. From that boatI could see right into his stateroom, but, once in, I dare not leaveit--except late at night, stealthily! The second spotted me one nightand I thought the game was up, but evidently he didn't report it. "

"But you might have confided... "

"Impossible! I'll admit I nearly fell to the temptation that firstnight; for I could see into your room as well as into his!" He slappedme boisterously on the back, but his gray eyes were suspiciously moist. "Dear old Petrie! Thank God for our friends! But you'd be the first toadmit, old man, that you're a dead rotten actor! Your portrayal of grieffor the loss of a valued chum would not have convinced a soul on board!

"Therefore I made use of Stacey, whose callous attitude was lessremarkable. Gad, Petrie! I nearly bagged our man the first night!The elaborate plan--Marconi message to get you out of the way, and soforth--had miscarried, and he knew the porthole trick would be uselessonce we got into the open sea. He took a big chance. He discarded hisclerical guise and peeped into your room--you remember?--but you wereawake, and I made no move when he slipped back to his own cabin; Iwanted to take him red-handed. "

"Have you any idea... "

"Who he is? No more than where he is! Probably some creature of Dr. Fu-Manchu specially chosen for the purpose; obviously a man of culture, and probably of thug ancestry. I hit him--in the shoulder; but even thenhe ran like a hare. We've searched the ship, without result. He may havegone overboard and chanced the swim to shore... "

We stepped out onto the deck. Around us was that unforgettablescene--Port Said by night. The ship was barely moving through the glassywater, now. Smith took my arm and we walked forward. Above us was themighty peace of Egypt's sky ablaze with splendor; around and about usmoved the unique turmoil of the clearing-house of the Near East. 

"I would give much to know the real identity of the bishop of Damascus, "muttered Smith. 

He stopped abruptly, snapping his teeth together and grasping my arm asin a vise. Hard upon his words had followed the rattling clangor as thegreat anchor was let go; but horribly intermingled with the metallicroar there came to us such a fearful, inarticulate shrieking as to chillone's heart. 

The anchor plunged into the water of the harbor; the shrieking ceased. Smith turned to me, and his face was tragic in the light of the arc lampswung hard by. 

"We shall never know, " he whispered. "God forgive him--he must bein bloody tatters now. Petrie, the poor fool was hiding in thechainlocker!"

A little hand stole into mine. I turned quickly. Karamaneh stood besideme. I placed my arm about her shoulders, drawing her close; and I blushto relate that all else was forgotten. 

For a moment, heedless of the fearful turmoil forward, Nayland Smithstood looking at us. Then he turned, with his rare smile, and walkedaft. 

"Perhaps you're right, Petrie!" he said.