NEDL TRANSFER
HN 1322 L
the Return of
Dr Fu Manchu


KD17248

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THE RETURN
OF DR. FU-MANCHU





THE RETURN
OF DR. FU-MANCHU
By SAX ROHMER
Author of "The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu''
"The Yellow Claw,” Etc.
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers
New York
Published by Arrangement with ROBERT M. MCBRIDE & COMPANY


KD 17248
HARVARD
COLLEGE
LIBRARYA
Copyright, 1916, by
ROBERT M. McBRIDE & Co.
Second Printing
March, 1916
Third Printing
November, 1918
Published February, 1916


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CONTENTS
CHAPTER
PAGE
I A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS . . . . . . . . . I
II ELTHAM VANISHES . . . . . . . . . . 13
III THE WIRE JACKET . . . . . . . . . .
IV The CkY OF A NIGHTHAWK ......
V THE NET . . . . . . . . . .
VI UNDER THE ELMS . . . . . . .
VII ENTER MR. ABEL SLATTIN ..
VIII DR. FU-Manchu STRIKES. . .
IX THE CLIMBER . . . . . . . . . .
X THE CLIMBER RETURNS . . . . . . .
XI THE WHITE PEACOCK
XII Dark EYES LOOKED INTO MINE . . .
XIII THE SACRED ORDER . . . ..
XIV THE COUGHING HORROR . . . . . . . . . 136
XV BEWITCHMENT . . . . . . . . . . . 140
XVI THE QUESTING HANDS . . . . . . . . . 158
XVII ONE DAY IN RANGOON . . . . .
XVIII THE SILVER BUDDHA . . . . . . . . . . 175
XIX DR. FU-MANCHU'S LABORATORY..
XX THE Cross Bar . . . . . . .
XXI CRAGMIRE TOWER . . . . . . . . . . 204
XXII THE MULATTO. . . . . . . . . . . . 212
XXIII A CRY ON THE MOOR . .
XXIV STORY OF THE GABLES . ..
XXV THE BELLS. . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
XXVI THE FIERY HAND . . . . . . . . . . . 257
XXVII THE NIGHT OF THE RAD .. ...... 269
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CONTENTS
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CHAPTER
PAGE
XXVIII THE SAMURAI'S SWORD . . . . . . . . 277
XXIX THE Six GATES . . . . . . . . . . . 291
XXX THE CALL OF THE EAST. ........ 298
XXXI “My SHADOW LIES UPON YOU”...
XXXII THE TRAGEDY . . . . . . . . . . . 311
XXXIII THE MUMMY . . . . . . . . . . . . 320
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THE RETURN
OF DR. FU-MANCHU





THE
RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
CHAPTER I
A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS
"W HEN did you last hear from Nayland
W Smith ?” asked my visitor.
I paused, my hand on the syphon, reflecting for a
moment.
“Two months ago," I said; "he's a poor corre-
spondent and rather soured, I fancy."
“What — a woman or something ?”
“Some affair of that sort. He's such a reticent
beggar, I really know very little about it.”
I placed a whisky and soda before the Rev. J. D.
Eltham, also sliding the tobacco jar nearer to his
hand. The refined and sensitive face of the clergy-
man offered no indication of the truculent character
of the man. His scanty fair hair, already gray over
the temples, was silken and soft-looking; in appear.
ance he was indeed a typical English churchman; but
in China he had been known as “the fighting mis-
sionary," and had fully deserved the title. In fact,
this peaceful-looking gentleman had directly brought
about the Boxer Risings!


2 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“You know," he said, in his clerical voice, but
meanwhile stuffing tobacco 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 the burnt-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 the grate.
“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; if I seriously
suspected that that stupendous intellect, that wonder-
ful genius, Petrie, er —" he hesitated characteristi-
cally -—" survived, I should 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 the world may be threatened anew
at any moment!"
He was becoming excited, shooting out his jaw in
the truculent manner I knew, and snapping his fingers
to emphasize his words; a man composed of the odd-
est complexities that ever dwelt beneath a clerical
frock.
“He may have got back to China, Doctor!” he
cried, and his eyes had the fighting glint in them.
“ Could you rest in peace if you thought that he


A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS
3
lived? Should you not fear for your life every time
that a night-call took you out alone? Why, man
alive, it is only two years since he was here among us,
since we were searching every shadow for those awful
green eyes! What became of his band of assassins
- his stranglers, his dacoits, his damnable poisons
and insects and what-not — the army of crea.
tures —"
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 that you were searching for
the girl — the girl — Kâramanèh, I think she was
called?"
“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 Karamanèh, but from your account,
and from others, she was quite unusually —'
“She was very beautiful," I said, and stood up, for
I was anxious to terminate that phase of the conversa.
tion.
Eltham regarded me sympathetically; he knew
something of my search with Nayland Smith for the
dark-eyed, Eastern girl who had brought romance
into my drab life; he knew that I treasured my mem-


4. THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
ories of her as I loathed and abhorred those of the
fiendish, brilliant Chinese doctor who had 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 of
Nayland Smith. Certainly, between this pink-faced
clergyman, with his deceptively mild appearance, and
the gaunt, bronzed, and steely-eyed Burmese com-
missioner, there was externally little in common; but
it was some little nervous trick in his carriage that
conjured up through the smoky haze one distant sum-
mer evening when Smith had paced that very room as
Eltham paced it now, when before my startled eyes
he had rung up the curtain upon the savage drama in
which, though I little suspected it then, Fate had cast
me for a leading rôle.
I wondered if Eltham's thoughts ran parallel with
mine. My own were centered upon the unfor-
gettable figure of the murderous Chinaman. These
words, exactly as Smith had used them, seemed once
again to sound in my ears: “ Imagine a person tall,
lean, and feline, high shouldered, with a brow like
Shakespeare and a face like Satan, a close-shaven
skull, and long magnetic eyes of the true cat green.
Invest him with all the cruel cunning of an entire
Eastern race accumulated in one giant intellect, with
all the resources of science, past and present, and you
have a mental picture of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the ‘Yel.
low Peril' incarnate in one man.”


A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS
This visit of Eltham's no doubt was responsible
for my mood; for this singular clergyman had played
his part in the drama of two years ago.
“I should like to see Smith again," he said sud-
denly;" it seems a pity that a man like that should be
buried in Burma Burma makes a mess of the 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 talk much.”
" Quite so — quite so! And, you know, Doctor,
neither am I; but "- he was growing painfully em-
barrassed " it may be your due-1-er - I
have a correspondent, in the interior of China -"
“ Well?” I said, watching him in sudden eager-
ness.
“Well, I would not desire to raise — vain hopes
- nor to occasion, shall I say, empty fears; but - er
... no, Doctor!" He flushed like a girl --" It
was wrong of me to open this conversation. Per-
haps, when I know more — will you forget my words,
for the time?"
The telephone bell rang.
“Hullo!” cried Eltham-"hard luck, Doctor!”
- but I could see that he welcomed the interruption.
“Why!” he added, “it is one o'clock !"
I went to the telephone.
“Is that Dr. Petrie ?" inquired a woman's voice.


A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS
state what was the nature of Eltham's reflections, but
I can guess; for he was as silent as I.
It was with a conscious effort that I shook myself
out of this morbidly reflective mood, on finding that
we had crossed the common and were come to the
abode of my patient.
“I shall take a little walk," announced Eltham;
" for I gather that you don't expect to be detained
long? I shall never be out of sight of the door,
of course."
“Very well,” I replied, and ran up the steps.
There were no lights to be seen in any of the win-
dows, which circumstance rather surprised me, as my
patient occupied, or had occupied when last I had vis-
ited her, a first-floor bedroom in the front of the
house. My knocking and ringing produced no re-
sponse for three or four minutes; then, as I persisted,
a scantily clothed and half awake maid servant un-
barred the door and stared at me stupidly in the
moonlight.
“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 a telephone, sir.”
For a few moments I stood there, staring as fool-
ishly as she; then abruptly I turned and descended
ited her occupied, or had a rather surprise


8 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
the steps. At the gate I stood looking up and down
the road. The houses were all in darkness. What
could be the meaning of the mysterious summons? I
had made no mistake respecting the name of my
patient; it had been twice repeated over the tele.
phone; yet that the call had not emanated from Mrs.
Hewett's house was now palpably evident. Days
had been when I should have regarded the episode as
preluding some outrage, but to-night I felt more dis-
posed to ascribe it to a silly practical joke.
Eltham walked up briskly.
“You're in demand to-night, Doctor," he said.
“A young person called for you almost directly you
had left your house, and, learning where you were
gone, followed you."
“ Indeed!” I said, a trifle incredulously. “There
are plenty of other doctors if the case is an urgent
one."
“ She may have thought it would save time as you
were actually up and dressed,” explained Eltham;
“and the house is quite near to here, I understand.”
I looked at him a little blankly. Was this another
effort of the unknown jester?
“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 and is lying
helpless : number 280, Rectory Grove."
“Where is the girl?" I asked, sharply.


A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS 9
"She ran back directly she had given me her mes-
sage."
“ Was she a servant?"
“I should imagine so: French, I think. But she
was so wrapped up I had little more than a glimpse of
her. I am sorry to hear that some one has played a
silly joke on you, but believe me —” he was very
earnest - "this is no jest. The poor girl could
scarcely speak for sobs. She mistook me for you,
of course."
“Oh!” said I grimly; “ well, I suppose I must go.
Broken leg, you said ? - and my surgical bag, splints
and so forth, are at home !"
“My dear Petrie!" cried Eltham, in his enthusias-
tic way -"you no doubt can do something to allevi-
ate the poor man's suffering immediately. I will run
back to your rooms for the bag and rejoin you at 280,
Rectory Grove."
“It's awfully good of you, Eltham "
He held up his hand.
“The call of suffering humanity, Petrie, is one
which I may no more refuse to hear than you."
I made no further protest after that, for his point
of view was evident and his determination adamant,
but told him where he would find the bag and once
more set out across the moonbright common, he pur-
suing a westerly direction and I going east.
Some three hundred yards I had gone, I suppose,
and my brain had been very active the while, when
something occurred to me which placed a new com.


10 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
CO
plexion upon this second summons. I thought of the
falsity of the first, of the improbability of even the
most hardened practical joker practising his wiles at
one o'clock in the morning. I thought of our recent
conversation; above all I thought of the girl who had
delivered the message to Eltham, the girl whom he
had described as a French maid — whose personal
charm had so completely enlisted his sympathies.
Now, to this train of thought came a new one, and,
adding it, my suspicion 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 was in sight; not even a policeman.
Where the lamps marked the main paths across the
common nothing moved; in the shadows about me
nothing stirred. But something stirred within me
a warning voice which for long had lain dormant.
What was afoot?
A breeze caressed the leaves overhead, breaking
the silence with mysterious whisperings. Some por-
tentous truth was seeking for admittance to my brain.
I strove to reassure myself, but the sense of impend-
ing evil and of mystery became heavier. At last I
could combat my strange fears no longer. I turned
and began to run toward the south side of the com-
mon — toward my rooms — and after Eltham.
I had hoped to head him off, but came upon no
sign of him. An all-night tramcar passed at the


A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS
II
moment that I reached the high road, and as I ran
around behind it I saw that my windows were lighted
and that there was a light 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 brown as a coffee-berry and his steely
gray eyes fixed upon me. My heart gave a 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 there was little enough of glad-
ness in his face. He was altogether grayer than
when 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 com-
mon "
Smith dashed his right fist into the palm of his left
hand and his eyes gleamed almost wildly.
“My God, Petrie!” he said, “ am I fated always
to come too latz?"
2


12 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
My dreadful fears in that instant were confirmed.
I seemed to feel my legs totter beneath me.
“Smith, you don't mean -"
“I do, Petrie!” His voice sounded very far
away. “ Fu-Manchu is here; and Eltham, God help
him ... is his first victim!”


CHAPTER II
ELTHAM VANISHES
MITH went racing down the stairs like a man
possessed. Heavy with such a foreboding of
calamity as I had not known for two years, I followed
him - along the hall and out into the road. The
very peace and beauty of the night in some way in-
creased my mental agitation. The sky was lighted
almost tropically with such a blaze of stars as I
could not recall to have seen since, my futile search
concluded, I had left Egypt. The glory of the moon.
light yellowed the lamps speckled across the expanse
of the common. The night was as still as night can
ever be in London. The dimming pulse of a cab or
car alone disturbed the stillness.
With a quick glance to right and left, Smith ran
across on to the common, and, leaving the door wide
open behind me, I followed. The path which El
tham had pursued terminated almost opposite to my
house. One's gaze might follow it, white and empty,
for several hundred yards past the pond, and further,
until it became overshadowed and was lost amid a
clump of trees.
I came up with Smith, and side by side we ran on,
whilst pantingly, I told my tale.
" It was a trick to get you away from him!” cried
13


14 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Smith. “They meant no doubt to make some at
tempt 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 rap-
idly.
I took his arm, turning him slightly to the right,
and pointed across the 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. We
parted at the point where they meet —”.
Smith walked right down to the edge of the water
and peered about over the surface.
What he hoped to find there I could not imagine.
Whatever it had been he was disappointed, and he
turned to me again, frowning perplexedly, and tug-
ging at the lobe of his left ear, an old trick which
reminded me of gruesome 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, and his 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 -"


ELTHAM VANISHES
Behind us, along the highroad, a tramcar went
rocking by, doubtless bearing a few belated workers
homeward. The stark incongruity of the thing was
appalling. How little those weary toilers, ņemmed
about with the commonplace, suspected that almost
within sight from the car windows, 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; and fully ten yards from the first
of the group, we two, hatless both, and sharing a
common dread, paused for a moment and listened.
The car had stopped at the further extremity of
the common, and now with a moan that grew to a
shriek was rolling on its way again. We stood and
listened until silence reclaimed the night. Not a
footstep could be heard. Then slowly we walked
on. At the edge of the little coppice we stopped
again abruptly.
Smith turned and thrust his pistol into my hand.
A white ray of light pierced the shadows; my com-
panion carried an electric torch. But no trace of
Eltham was discoverable.
There had been a heavy shower of rain during the
evening just before sunset, and although the open
paths were dry again, under the trees the ground was
still moist. Ten yards within the coppice we came
upon tracks -- the tracks of one running, as the deep
imprints of the toes indicated.
Py


16 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Abruptly the tracks terminated; others, softer,
joined them, two sets converging from left and right.
There was a confused patch, trailing off to the west;
then this became indistinct, and was finally lost, upon
the hard ground outside the group.
For perhaps a minute, or more, we ran about from
tree to tree, and from bush to bush, searching like
hounds for a scent, and fearful of what we might find.
We found nothing; and fully in the moonlight we
stood facing one another. The night was pro-
foundly still.
Nayland Smith stepped back into the shadows, and
began slowly to turn his head from left to right, tak.
ing in the entire visible expanse of the common. To-
ward 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. Recovering from 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 the roadway.
Another railing was vaulted, and the corner of a
second, triangular grass patch crossed at a hot sprint.
We were twenty yards from the road when the
sound of a starting motor broke the silence. We
gained the graveled footpath only to see the tail-
light of the car dwindling to the north!
Smith leaned dizzily against a tree.


ELTHAM VANISHES
17
“Eltham is in that car!” he gasped. “ Just God!
are we to stand here and see him taken away
to _"
He beat his fist upon the tree, in a sort of tragic
despair. The nearest cab-rank was no great distance
away, but, excluding the possibility of no cab being
there, it might, for all practical purposes, as well have
been a mile off.
The beat of the retreating motor was scarcely aud-
ible; the lights might but just be distinguished.
Then, coming in an opposite direction, appeared the
headlamp of another car, of a car that raced nearer
and nearer to us, so that, within a few seconds of its
first appearance, we found ourselves bathed in the
beam of its headlights.
Smith bounded out into the road, and stood, a
weird silhouette, with upraised arms, fully in its
course!
The brakes were applied hurriedly. It was a big
limousine, and its driver swerved perilously in avoid-
ing Smith and nearly ran into me. But, the breath-
less moment past, the car was pulled up, head on to
the railings; and a man in evening clothes was de-
manding excitedly what had happened. Smith, a hat-
less, disheveled figure, stepped up to the door.
“My name is Nayland Smith,” he said rapidly —
" Burmese Commissioner.” He snatched a letter
from his pocket and thrust it into the hands of the
bewildered man. “Read that. It is signed by an-
Ather Commissioner -- the Commissioner of Police."


18 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
With amazement written all over him, the other
obeyed.
“You see," continued my friend, tersely -—“it is
carte blanche. I wish to commandeer 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 your orders. 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 minute ago — 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 lim-
its for me. Thanks! Good night, sir!”
We were off! The car swung around and the
chase commenced.
One last glimpse I had of the man we had dispos-
sessed, standing alone by the roadside, and at ever
increasing speed, we leaped away in the track of
Eltham's captors.
Smith was too highly excited for ordinary conver-
sation, but he threw out short, 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 correspond-
ing with some mandarin up-country. Knew that.


ELTHAM VANISHES
19
na-
Came straight to you. Only got in this evening.
He — Fu-Manchu — has been sent here to get El-
tham. My God! and he has him! He will question
him! The interior of China — a seething pot,
Petrie! They had to stop the leakage of informa-
tion. He is here for that."
The car pulled up with a jerk that pitched me out
of my seat, and the chauffeur leaped to the road and
ran ahead. Smith was out in a trice, as the 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 the chase; “ they are making
for Battersea!”
And we were off again.
Through the empty streets we roared on. A place
of gasometers and desolate waste lots slipped behind
and we were in a narrow way where gates of yards
and a few lowly houses faced upon a prospect of high
blank wall.
“Thames on our right,” said Smith, peering
ahead. “His rathole is by the river as usual.
Hi!” — he grabbed up the speaking-tube - “Stop!
Stop!”
The limousine swung in to the narrow sidewalk,
and pulled up close by a yard gate. I, too, had seen
our quarry — a long, low bodied car, showing no
inside lights. It had turned the next corner, where
a street lamp shone greenly, not a hundred yards
ahead.
Smith leaped out, and I followed him.


20 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“ That must be a cul de sac," he said, and turned
to the eager-eyed chauffeur. “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 ques.
tion the order. As he began to back away, Smith
grasped me by the arm and drew me forward.
“We must get to that corner," he said, “and sce
where the car stands, without showing ourselves."


CHAPTER III
THE WIRE JACKET
T SUPPOSE we were not more than a dozen paces
from the lamp when we heard the thudding of
the motor. The car was backing out!
It was a desperate moment, for it seemed that we
could not fail to be discovered. Nayland Smith be-
gan to look about him, feverishly, for a hiding-place,
a quest in which I seconded with equal anxiety. And
Fate was kind to us - doubly kind as after events
revealed. A wooden gate broke the expanse of wall
hard by upon the right, and, as the result of some
recent accident, a ragged gap had been torn in the
panels close to the 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 and drew
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 the gatepost 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
21


22 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
was still astride the broken gate when the car turned
the corner, slowly, for there was scanty room; but I
was standing upon the bar on the inside and had my
head below the gap ere the driver could possibly have
seen me.
“Stay where you are until he passes," hissed my
companion, below. “There is a row of kegs under
you."
The sound of the motor passing outside grew
loud - louder — then began to die 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 in-
terrupted. “Ask yourself the question: what would
any ordinary man be doing motoring in a place like
this 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 di-
rection.
Beyond a great expanse of unbroken darkness a
ray of moonlight slanted into the place wherein we
stood, spilling its cold radiance upon rows of kegs.
“That's another door," continued my friend - I
now began dimly to perceive him beside me. “If my
calculations are not entirely wrong, it opens on a
wharf gate —"


THE WIRE JACKET 23
A steam siren hooted dismally, apparently from
quite close at hand.
“I'm right!” snapped Smith. “That turning
leads down to the gate. Come on, Petrie!”.
He directed the light of the electric torch upon a
narrow path through the ranks of casks, and led the
way to the further door. A good two feet of moon-
light showed along the top. I heard Smith straining;
then
“These kegs are all loaded with grease!” he said
-"and I want to reconnoiter 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 solid pedestal of casks. Then Smith
mounted to this observation platform and I scram-
bled up beside him, and looked down upon the lane
outside.
It terminated as Smith had foreseen at a wharf
gate some six feet to the right of our post. Piled up
in the lane beneath us, against the warehouse door,
was a stack of empty casks. Beyond, over the way,
was a kind of ramshackle building that had possibly
been a dwelling-house at some time. Bills were
stuck in the ground floor window indicating that the
three floors were to let as offices; so much was dis-
cernible in that reflected moonlight.
I could hear the tide lapping upon the wharf,
could feel the chill from the river and hear the vague
ping en
ene where


24 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
vas
noises which, night nor day, never cease upon the
great commercial waterway.
"Down!” whispered Smith. "Make no noise !
I suspected it. They heard the car following!”
I obeyed, clutching at him for support; for I was
suddenly dizzy, and my heart was leaping wildly —
furiously.
“You saw her ?" he whispered.
Saw her! yes, I had seen her! And my poor
dream-world was toppling about me, its cities, ashes
and its fairness, dust.
Peering from the window, her great eyes wondrous
in the moonlight and her red lips parted, hair gleam-
ing like burnished foam and her anxious gaze set
upon the corner of the lane — was Kâramanèh ...
Kâramanèh whom once we had rescued from the
house of this fiendish Chinese doctor; Kâramaneh
who had been our ally; in fruitless quest of whom,-
when, too late, I realized how empty my life was be-
come — I had wasted what little of the world's
goods I possessed; — Kâramaneh! .
"Poor old Petrie," murmured Smith -—"I knew,
but I hadn't the heart — He has her again — God
knows by what chains he holds her. But she's only
a woman, old boy, and women are very much alike
- very much alike from Charing Cross to Pagoda
Road.”
He rested his hand on my shoulder for a moment;
I am ashamed to confess that I was trembling; then,


THE WIRE JACKET
25
clenching my teeth with that mechanical physical et.
fort which often accompanies a mental one, I swal.
lowed the bitter draught of Nayland Smith's philoso-
phy. He was raising himself, to peer, cautiously,
over the top of the door. I did likewise.
The window from which the girl had looked was
nearly on a level with our eyes, and as I raised my
head above the woodwork, I quite distinctly saw her
go out of the room. The door, as she opened it,
admitted a dull light, against which her figure showed
silhouetted for a moment. Then the door was re-
closed.
“We must risk the other windows,” rapped Smith.
Before I had grasped the nature of his plan he was
over and had dropped almost noiselessly upon the
casks outside. Again I followed his lead.
“ You are not going to attempt anything, single-
handed against him?" I asked.
“Petrie — Eltham is in that house. He has been
brought here to be put to the question, in the medie-
val, and Chinese, sense! Is there time to summon
assistance ?"
I shuddered. This had been in my mind, cer-
tainly, but so expressed it was 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 that nearest to the closed door of


26 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
the house. I helped him place it under the open win.
dow. A second we set beside it, and, not without
some noise, got a third on top.
Smith mounted.
His jaw muscles were very prominent and his eyes
shone like steel; but he was as cool as though he were
about to enter a theater and not the den of the most
stupendous genius who ever worked for evil. I
would forgive any man who, knowing Dr. Fu-
Manchu, feared him; I feared him myself — feared
him as one fears a scorpion; but when Nayland Smith
hauled himself up on the wooden ledge above the
door and swung thence into the darkened room, I
followed and was in close upon his heels. But I
admired him, for he had every ampère 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 Karamanèh, of lovely dark-eyed Kâr-
amanèh, whom this wonderful, evil product of secret
China had stolen from me — for so I now adjudged
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 to remember the sound which at that mo-
ment literally struck me rigid with horror. Yet it
was only a groan; but, merciful God! I pray that it
may never be my lot to listen to such a groan again.
Smith drew a sibilant breath.


THE WIRE JACKET
27
“ It's Eltham!” he whispered hoarsely —" they're
torturing --"
“No, no!” screamed a woman's voice -- a voice
that thrilled me anew, but with another emotion
“Not that, not —".
I distinctly heard the sound of a blow. Followed
a sort of vague scuffling. A door somewhere at the
back of the house opened — and shut again. Some
one was coming along the passage toward us!
“Stand back!” Smith's voice was low, but per-
fectly steady. “Leave it to me!”
Nearer came the footsteps and nearer. I could
hear suppressed sobs. The door opened, admitting
again the faint light — and Kâramanèh came in.
The place was quite unfurnished, offering no possi-
bility of hiding; but to hide was unnecessary.
Her slim figure had not crossed the threshold ere
Smith had his arm about the girl's waist and one
hand clapped to her mouth. A stifled gasp she
uttered, and he lifted her into the room.
I stepped forward and closed the door. A faint
perfume stole to my nostrils — a vague, elusive
breath of the East, reminiscent of strange days that,
now, seemed to belong to a remote past. Kâra-
manèh! that faint, indefinable perfume was part of
her dainty personality; it may appear absurd - im-
possible - 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


28 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
still, but I could have wished that I had had more
certain mastery of myself. I took the torch from
Smith's pocket, and, mechanically, directed it upon
the captive.
She was dressed very plainly, wearing a simple blue
skirt, and white blouse. It was easy to divine that it
was she whom Eltham had mistaken for a French
maid. A brooch set with a ruby was pinned at the
point where the blouse opened - gleaming fierily
and harshly against the soft skin. Her face was
pale and her eyes wide with fear.
“There is some cord in my right-hand pocket,"
said Smith; “ I came provided. Tie her wrists."
I obeyed him, silently. The girl offered no resist-
ance, but I think I never essayed a less congenial task
than that of binding her white wrists. The jeweled
fingers lay quite listlessly in my own.
“ Make a good job of it!" rapped Smith, signifi.
cantly.
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 her again.
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 no recog.
nition. But a flush momentarily swept over her face,
and left it pale again.
“We shall have to gag her -"
“ Smith, I can't do it!"


THE WIRE JACKET 29
The girl's eyes filled with tears and she looked up
at my companion pitifully.
“Please don't be cruel to me,” she whispered,
with that soft accent which always played havoc with
my composure. “Every one — every one — is cruel
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." Her beautiful head
drooped. “Have some pity for me as well."
"Kâramaneh," I said. “We would have be-
lieved you once. We cannot, now.".
She started violently.
“You know my name !" Her voice was barely
audible. “Yet I have never seen you in my life —"
“See if the door locks," interrupted Smith harshly.
Dazed by the apparent sincerity in the voice of our
lovely captive — vacant from wonder of it all — I
opened the door, felt for, and found, a key.
We left Kâramanèh crouching against the wall;
her great eyes were turned towards me fascinatedly.
Smith locked the door with much care. We began
a tip-toed progress along the dimly lighted pas-
sage.
From beneath a door on the left, and near the end,
a brighter light shone. Beyond that again was an-
other door. A voice was speaking in the lighted
room; yet I could have sworn that Kâramanèh had
come, not from there but from the room beyond -
from the far end of the passage.
But the voicel - who, having once heard it, could


30 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
ever mistake that singular voice, alternately guttural
and sibilant!
Dr. Fu-Manchu was speaking!
“I have asked you," came with ever-increasing
clearness (Smith had begun to turn the knob), "to
reveal to me the name of your correspondent in Nan-
Yang. I have suggested that he may be the Man-
darin Yen-Sun-Yat, but you have declined to confirm
me. Yet I know" (Smith had the door open a good
three inches and was peering in) “ that some official,
some high official, is a traitor. Am I to resort again
to the question to learn his name?"
Ice seemed to enter my veins at the unseen inquisi-
tor's intonation of the words“ the question." This
was the Twentieth Century, yet there, in that dam-
nable room ...
Smith threw the door open.
Through a sort of haze, born mostly of horror,
but not entirely, I saw Eltham, stripped to the waist
and tied, with his arms upstretched, to a rafter in the
ancient ceiling. A Chinaman who wore a slop-shop
blue suit and who held an open knife in his hand,
stood beside him. Eltham was ghastly white. The
appearance of his chest puzzled me momentarily,
then I realized that a sort of tourniquet of wire-net-
ting was screwed so tightly 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-jacket on him! Shoot down


THE WIRE JACKET
31
that damned Chinaman, Petrie! Shoot! Shoot!"
Lithely as a cat the man with the knife leaped
around — but I raised the Browning, and deliber-
ately — with a cool deliberation that came to me
suddenly — shot him through the head. I saw his
oblique eyes turn up to the whites; I saw the mark
squarely between his brows; and with no word nor
cry he sank to his knees and toppled forward with
one yellow hand beneath 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 leaped forward, took up the bloody knife
from the floor and cut Eltham's lashings. He sank
into my arms.
“Praise God,” he murmured, weakly. “He is
more merciful to me than perhaps I deserve. Un-
screw ... the jacket, Petrie ... I think ... I
was very near to ... weakening. Praise the good
God, Who ... gave me . . . fortitude ..."
I got the screw of the accursed thing loosened, but
the act of removing the jacket was too agonizing for
Eltham — man of iron though he was. I laid him
swooning on the floor.
“Where is Fu-Manchu ?"
Nayland Smith, from just within the door, threw
out the query in a tone of stark amaze. I stood up
- I could do nothing more for the poor victim at the
moment — and looked about me.


32 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
The room was innocent of furniture, save for
heaps of rubbish on the floor, and a tin oil-lamp hung
on the wall. The dead Chinaman lay close beside
Smith. There was no second door, the one window
was barred, and from this room we had heard the
voice, 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 a state of helpless
incredulity.
Then the explanation flashed upon us both, simul-
taneously, and with a cry 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 empti-
ness with the 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 some-
thing. Fu-Manchu had evidently promised Eltham
his life if he would divulge the name of his corre-
spondent. He meant to keep his word; it is a side-
light on his character."
“How so?"
“Eltham has never seen Dr. Fu-Manchu, but El-
tham knows certain parts of China better than you
know the Strand. Probably, if he saw Fu-Manchu,


THE WIRE JACKET
33
he would recognize him for whom he really is, and
this, it seems, the Doctor is anxious to avoid.”
We ran back to where we had left Kâramanèh.
The room was empty!
“Defeated, Petrie!” said Smith, bitterly. “The
Yellow Devil is loosed on London again!"
He leaned from the window and the skirl of a
police whistle split the stillness of the night.


CHAPTER IV
THE CRY OF A NIGHTHAWK
QUCH were the episodes that marked the coming
w of Dr. Fu-Manchu to London, that awakened
fears long dormant and reopened old wounds — nay,
poured poison into them. I strove desperately, by
close attention to my professional duties, to banish the
very memory of Kâramanèh from my mind; desper-
ately, but how vainly! Peace was for me no more,
joy was gone from the world, and only mockery re-
mained as my portion.
Poor Eltham we had placed in a nursing establish-
ment, where his indescribable hurts could be properly
tended : and his uncomplaining fortitude not infre-
quently made me thoroughly ashamed of myself.
Needless to say, Smith had made such other arrange-
ments as were necessary to safeguard the injured man,
and these proved so successful that the malignant
being whose plans they thwarted abandoned his de-
signs upon the heroic clergyman and directed his
attention elsewhere, as I must now proceed to relate.
Dusk always brought with it a cloud of apprehen-
sions, for darkness must ever be the ally or crime; and
it was one night, long after the clocks had struck the


THE CRY OF A NIGHTHAWK
35
mystic hour “when churchyards yawn," that the
hand of Dr. Fu-Manchu again stretched out to grasp
a victim. I was dismissing a chance patient.
“Good night, Dr. Petrie," he said..
"Good night, Mr. Forsyth," I replied; and, hav-
ing conducted my late visitor to the door, I closed and
bolted it, switched off the light and went upstairs.
My patient was chief officer of one of the P. and
O. boats. He had cut his hand rather badly on the
homeward run, and signs of poisoning having devel-
oped, had called to have the wound treated, apologiz-
ing for troubling me at so late an hour, but explaining
that he had only just come from the docks. The hall
clock announced the hour of one as I ascended the
stairs. I found myself wondering what there was in
Mr. Forsyth's appearance which excited some vague
and elusive memory. Coming to the top floor, I
opened the door of a front bedroom and was sur-
prised to find the interior in darkness.
“Smith!” I called.
“ Come here and watch!” was the terse response.
Nayland Smith was sitting in the dark at the open
window and peering out across the common. Even
as I saw him, a dim silhouette, I could detect that
tensity in his attitude 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 betoken-


36 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MÂNCHU
ing excitement. I leaned on the ledge beside him
and looked out. The blaze of stars almost com-
pensated for the absence of the moon and the night
had a quality of stillness that made for awe. This
was a tropical summer, and the common, with its
dancing lights dotted irregularly about it, had an un-
familiar look to-night. The clump of nine elms
showed as a dense and irregular mass, lacking detail.
Such moods as that which now claimed my friend
are magnetic. I had no thought of the night's
beauty, for it only served to remind me that some-
where amid London's millions was lurking an un-
canny being, whose life 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 footstep disturbed 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 remained standing at the gate for
some reason."
“He has seen it!” snapped Smith. “Watch
those elms."


THE CRY OF A NIGHTHAWK
37.
His hand remained upon my arm, gripping it nerv-
ously. Shall I say that I was surprised? I can say
it with truth. But I shall add that I was thrilled,
eerily; for this subdued excitement and alert watching
of Smith could only mean one thing:
Fu-Manchu!
And that was enough to set me watching as keenly
as he; to set me listening; not only for sounds out-
side the house but for sounds within. Doubts, sus-
picions, dreads, heaped themselves up in my mind.
Why was Forsyth standing there at the gate ? I
had never seen him before, to my 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 been genuine enough. Thus my
mind worked, feverishly; such was the effect of an
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 and uncanny sight. Out of the
darkness under the elms, low down upon the ground,
grew a vaporous blue light. It flared up, elfinish,
then began to ascend. Like an igneous phantom, a
witch flame, it rose, high — higher — higher, to what
I adjudged to be some twelve feet or more from the
ground. Then, high in the air, it died away again
as it had come!
“For God's sake, Smith, what was it?"


38 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“Don't ask me, Petrie. I have seen it twice.
We _”.
He paused. Rapid footsteps sounded below.
Over Smith's shoulder I saw Forsyth cross the road,
climb the low rail, and set out across the common.
Smith sprang impetuously to his feet.
“We must stop him!” he said hoarsely; then, clap-
ping a hand to my mouth as I was about to call out
-“Not a sound, Petrie!”
He ran out of the room and went blundering down-
stairs in the dark, crying:
“Out through the garden - the side entrance !"
I overtook him as he threw wide the door of my
dispensing room. Through it he ran and opened the
door at the other end. I followed him out, closing it
behind me. The smell from some tobacco plants in
a neighboring flower-bed was faintly perceptible; no
breeze stirred; and in the great silence I could hear
Smith, in front of me, tugging at the bolt of the gate.
Then he had it open, and I stepped out, close on
his heels, and left the door ajar.
“We must not appear to have come from your
house," explained Smith rapidly. “I will go along
the highroad and cross to the common a hundred
yards up, where there is a pathway, as though home-
ward bound to the north side. Give me half a min-
ute's start, then you proceed in an opposite direction
and cross from the corner of the next road. Di-
rectly you are out of the light of the street lamps, get
over the rails and run for the elms ! "


THE CRY OF A NIGHTHAWK
39
He thrust a pistol into my hand and was off.
While he had been with me, speaking in that in-
cisive, impetuous way of his, 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 stood alone, in that staid and respectable byway,
holding a loaded pistol in my hand, the whole thing
became utterly unreal.
It was in an odd frame of mind that I walked to
the next corner, as directed; for I was thinking, not
of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the great and evil man who
dreamed of Europe and America under Chinese rule,
not of Nayland Smith, who alone stood between the
Chinaman and the realization of his monstrous
schemes, not even of Kâramanèh, the slave girl,
whose glorious beauty was a weapon of might in
Fu-Manchu's hand, but of what impression I 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 and vaulted into the field on
my right. As I began to run toward the elms I
found myself wondering what it was all about, and
for what we were come. Fifty yards west of the
trees it occurred to me that if Smith had counted on
cutting Forsyth off we were too late, for it appeared
to me that 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 a nighthawk.


40 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
I could not recall ever to have heard the cry of that
bird on the common before, but oddly enough I at-
tached little significance to it until, in the ensuing in-
stant, a most dreadful scream — a scream in which
fear, and loathing, and anger were hideously blended
- thrilled me with horror.
After that I have no recollection of anything un-
til I found myself standing 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 sobbing and choking. Out from
the shadows staggered a ghastly figure — that of a
man whose face appeared to be streaked. His eyes
glared at me madly and he 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 man fell babbling and sobbing
at my very feet.
Inert I stood, looking down at him. He writhed
a moment — and was still. The silence again be-
came perfect. Then, from somewhere beyond the
elms, Nayland Smith appeared. I did not move.
Even when he stood beside me, I merely stared at him
fatuously.
“I let him walk to his death, Petrie," I heard
dimly. “God forgive me — God forgive me!"
The words aroused me.
“Smith”- my voice came as a whisper " for
one awful moment I thought -"


THE CRY OF A NIGHTHAWK 41
: "So did some one else," he rapped. “Our poor
sailor has met the end designed for me, Petrie!”
At that I realized two things: I knew why For-
syth's face had struck me as being familiar in some
puzzling way, and I knew why Forsyth now lay dead
upon the grass. Save that he was a fair man and
wore a slight mustache, he was, in features and build,
the double of Nayland Smith!


CHAPTER V
The Net
slight breezdy fingers began ped upon my kneen over
W E raised the poor victim and turned him over
V on his back. I dropped upon my knees, and
with unsteady fingers began to strike a match. A
slight breeze was arising and sighing gently through
the elms, but, screened by my hands, the flame of the
match took life. It illuminated wanly the sun-baked
face of Nayland Smith, his eyes gleaming with un-
natural brightness. I bent forward, and the dying
light of the match touched 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 so horrible. Forsyth's livid face was
streaked with tiny streams of blood, which proceeded
from a series of irregular wounds. One group of
these clustered upon his left temple, another beneath
his right eye, and others extended from the chin down
to the throat. They were black, almost like tattoo
marks, and the entire injured surface was bloated in-
describably. His fists were clenched; he was quite
rigid.
Smith's piercing eyes were set upon me eloquently
as I knelt on the path and made my examination
42


THE NET
43
an examination which that first glimpse when Forsyth
came staggering out from the trees had rendered use-
less — a mere matter 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 be-
side the dead man. I could hear a car humming
along the highroad, but I remained there on my knees
staring dully at the disfigured bloody face which but
a matter of minutes since had been that of a clean-
looking British seaman. I found myself contrasting
his neat, squarely trimmed mustache with the bloated
face above it, and counting the little drops of blood
which trembled upon its edge. There were foot-
steps approaching. I stood up. The footsteps
quickened; 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 his hand
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 de-
bating upon his chances with the two of us, when my
friend pulled a letter from his pocket and thrust it
under the man's nose.
“Read that!” he directed harshly, “and then
listen to my orders."


44 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
There was something in his voice which changed
the officer's opinion of the situation. He directed
the light of his lantern upon the open letter and
seemed to be stricken with wonder.
“If you have any doubts," continued Smith
"you may not be familiar with the Commissioner's
signature — you have only to ring up Scotland Yard
from Dr. Petrie's house, to which we shall now re-
turn, to disperse them.” He pointed to Forsyth.
“ Help us to carry him there. We must not be seen;
this must be hushed up. You understand? It must
not get into the press "
The man saluted respectfully; and the three of us
addressed ourselves to the mournful task. By slow
stages we bore the dead man to the edge of the com-
mon, carried him across the road and into my house,
without exciting attention even on the part of those
vagrants who nightly slept out in the neighbor-
hood.
We laid our burden upon the surgery table.
“You will want to make an examination, Petrie,"
said Smith in his decisive way," and the officer here
might 'phone for the ambulance. I have some in-
vestigations to make also. I must have the pocket
lamp.”
He raced upstairs to his room, and an instant later
came running down again. The front door banged.
“The telephone is in the hall," I said to the con-
stable.
“ Thank you, sir."


THE NET
45
He went out of the surgery as I switched on the
lamp over the table and began 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; a fairly deep incision with a pear-shaped
and superficial scratch beneath it. One of the tiny
wounds had penetrated the right eye.
The symptoms, or those which I had been enabled
to observe as Forsyth had first staggered into view
from among the elms, were most puzzling. Clearly
enough, the muscles of articulation and the respira-
tory muscles had 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 to
the manner of his death.
No clue presented itself; and my detailed exam-
ination of the body availed me nothing. The gray
herald of dawn was come when the police arrived
with the ambulance and took Forsyth away.
I was just taking my cap from the rack when Nay-
land Smith returned.
“Smith!" I cried "have you found any-
thing?"
He stood there in the gray light of the hallway,
tugging at the lobe of his left ear — an old trick of
his.
The bronzed face looked very gaunt, I thought,
and his eyes were bright with that febrile glitter which
once I had disliked, but which I had learned from
experience were due to tremendous nervous excite.
IS


46 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
ment. At such times he could act with icy coolness
and his mental faculties seemed temporarily to ac-
quire an abnormal keenness. He made no direct
reply; but —
"Have you any milk?" he jerked abruptly.
So wholly unexpected was the question, that for a
moment I failed to grasp 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 own train of thought that it
never occurred to me how absurd my request must
have 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, returning with a garden trowel, a prate
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 he poured the milk. Then, with


THE NET
47
the trowel in his pocket, the plate of cold turbot in
one hand and the milk jug in the other, he made for
the door. He had it open when another idea evi.
dently 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 presence of any one else might
jeopardize my plan. I don't expect to be long."
The cold light of dawn flooded the hallway mo-
mentarily; then the door closed again and I went
upstairs to my study, watching Nayland Smith as he
strode across the common in the early morning mist.
He was making for the 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. A policeman tramped past the
house, and, a while later, a belated reveler in evening
clothes. That sense of unreality assailed me again.
Out there in the gray mists a man who was vested
with powers which rendered him a law unto himself,
who had the British Government behind him in all
that he might choose to do, who had been summoned
from Rangoon to London on singular and dangerous
business, was employing himself with a plate of cold
turbot, a jug of milk, and a trowell
Away to the right, and just barely visible, a tram-
car stopped by the common; then proceeded on its
way, coming in a westerly direction. Its lights
twinkled yellowly through the grayness, but I was


48 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
less concerned with the approaching car than with
the solitary traveler who had descended from it.
As the car went rocking by below me, I strained my
eyes in an endeavor more clearly to discern the figure,
which, leaving the highroad, had struck out across
the common. It was that of a woman, who seem-
ingly carried a bulky bag or parcel.
One must be a gross materialist to doubt that there
are latent powers in man which man, in modern times,
neglects, or knows not how to develop. I became
suddenly conscious of a burning curiosity respecting
this lonely traveler who traveled at an hour so
strange. With no definite plan in mind, I went
downstairs, took a cap from the rack, and walked
briskly out of the house and across the common in a
direction which I thought would enable me to head
off the woman.
I had slightly miscalculated the distance, as Fate
would have it, and with a patch of gorse effectually
screening my approach, I came upon her, kneeling on
the damp grass and unfastening the bundle which
had attracted my attention. I stopped and watched
her.
She was dressed in bedraggled fashion in rusty
black, wore a common black straw hat and a thick
veil; but it seemed to me that the dexterous hands
at work untying the bundle were slim and white;
and I perceived a pair of hideous cotton gloves lying
on the turf beside her. As she threw open the wrap-
pings and lifted out something that looked like a


THE NET
49
1.
small shrimping net, I stepped around the bush,
crossed silently the intervening patch of grass, and
stood beside her.
A faint breath of perfume reached me — of a per-
fume which, like the secret incense of Ancient Egypt,
seemed to assail my soul. The glamour of the Orient
was in that subtle essence; and I only knew one
woman who used 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 with the lithe movement of some
Eastern dancing girl.
Now came the sun, and its heralding rays struck
sparks from the jewels upon the white fingers of
this woman who wore the garments of a mendicant.
My heart gave a great leap. It was with difficulty
that I controlled my voice.
“There is no cause for alarm," I added.
She stood watching me; even through the coarse
veil I could see how her eyes glittered. I stooped
and picked up the net.
“Oh!” The whispered word was scarcely audi-
ble, but it was enough; I doubted no longer.
“This is a net for bird snaring,” I said. “What
strange bird are you seeking — Karamanèh?”
With a passionate gesture Karamanèh snatched off
the veil, and with it the ugly black hat. The cloud
of wonderful, intractable hair came rumpling about
her face, and her glorious eyes blazed out upon me.


50 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
How beautiful they were, with the dark beauty of
an Egyptian night; how often had they looked into
mine in dreams!
To labor against a ceaseless yearning for a woman
whom one knows, upon evidence that none but a fool
might reject, to be worthless — evil; is there 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 to conjecture; and this
was the woman, this lovely slave of a monster, this
creature 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, then checked myself; for I knew that
my words were prompted by a feckless desire to hear
her defense, by a fool's hope that it might be an ac-
ceptable one.
I looked again at the net contrivance in my hand;
it had a strong spring fitted to it and a line attached.
Quite obviously it was intended for snaring.
“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 of Kara-
manèh's lips, and reproach because they were so
tremulous.
She spoke then.
“ Dr. Petrie -"
“Well?"
aro


THE NET
51
“You seem to be — angry with me, not so much
because of what I do, as because I do not remember
you. Yet -"
“Kindly do not revert to the matter," I inter-
rupted. “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 accent imaginable. “Throw
me into prison, kill me if you like, for what I have
done!” She stamped her foot. “For what I have
done! But do not torture me, try to drive me mad
with your reproaches — that I forget you! I tell
you — again I tell you — that until you came one
night, last week, to rescue someone from --"
There was the old trick of hesitating before the
name of Fu-Manchu -" from him, I had never,
never seen you!”
The dark eyes looked into mine, afire with a posi-
tive hunger for belief — or so I was sorely tempted
to suppose. But the facts were against her.
“Such a declaration is worthless," I said, as coldly
as I could. “You are 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 serve Fu-Manchu than to remain
true to your friends. Your ‘slavery '- for I take


52 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
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 he loads you with
jewels, lavishes gifts —".
“Ah! so!"
She sprang forward, raising flaming eyes to mine;
her lips were slightly parted. With that wild aban-
don which betrayed the desert blood in her veins, she
wrenched open the neck of her bodice and slipped a
soft shoulder free of the garment. She twisted
around, so that the white skin was but inches re-
moved from me.
“These are some of the gifts that he lavishes
upon me!”
I clenched my teeth. Insane thoughts flooded
my mind. For that creamy skin was red with the
marks of the lash!
She turned, quickly rearranging her dress, and
wačching me the while. I could not trust myself to
speak for a moment, then:
"If I am a stranger to you, as you claim, why do
you give me your confidence ?" I asked.
“I have known you long enough to trust you!"
she said simply, and turned her head aside.
“Then why do you serve this inhuman monster?"
She snapped her fingers oddly, and looked up at
me from under her lashes. “Why do you question
me if you think that everything I say is a lie?"
It was a lesson in logic from a woman! I
changed the subject.


THE NET
53
“Tell me what you came here to do," I de
manded.
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 of the nighthawk which had
harbingered the death of Forsyth! The net was a
large and strong one; could it be that some horrible
fowl of the air — some creature unknown to West-
ern naturalists had been released upon the common
last night? I thought of the marks upon Forsyth's
face and throat; I thought of the profound knowl-
edge of obscure and dreadful things possessed by the
Chinaman.
The wrapping, in which the net had been, lay at my
feet. I stooped and took out from it a wicker basket.
Kâramanèh stood watching me and biting her lip,
but she made no move to check me. I opened the
basket. It contained a large phial, the contents of
which possessed a pungent and peculiar smell.
I was utterly mystified.
“You will have to accompany me to my house," I
said sternly.
Kâramanèh upturned her great eyes to mine.
They were wide with fear. She was on the point of
speaking when I extended my hand to grasp her.
At that, the look of fear was gone and one of rebel
lion held its place. Ere I had time to realize her


54. THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
purpose, she flung back from me with that wild grace
which I had met with in no other woman, turned
and ran!
Fatuously, net and basket in hand, I stood looking
after her. The idea of pursuit came to me certainly;
but I doubted if I could have outrun her. For Kâra-
manèh ran, not like a girl used to town or even
country life, but with the lightness and swiftness of
a gazelle ; ran like the daughter of the desert that she
was.
Some two hundred yards she went, stopped, and
looked back. It would seem that the sheer joy of
physical effort had aroused the devil in her, the devil
that must lie latent in every woman with eyes like the
eyes of Kâramanèh.
In the ever brightening sunlight I could see the
lithe figure swaying; no rags imaginable could mask
its beauty. I could see the red lips and gleaming
teeth. Then — and it was music good to hear, de-
spite its taunt — she laughed defiantly, turned, and
ran again!
I resigned myself to defeat; I blush to add, gladly!
Some evidences of a world awakening were percept-
ible about me now. Feathered choirs hailed the new
day joyously. Carrying the mysterious contrivance
which I had captured from the enemy, I set out in
the direction of my house, my mind very busy with
conjectures respecting the link between this bird
snare and the cry like that of a nighthawk which we
had heard at the moment of Forsyth's death.


THE NET
55
The path that I had chosen led me around the
border of the Mound Pond — a small pool having
an islet in the center. Lying at the margin of the
pond I was amazed to see the plate and jug which
Nayland Smith had borrowed recently!
Dropping my burden, I walked down to the edge
of the water. I was filled with a sudden apprehen-
sion. Then, as I bent to pick up the now empty jug,
came a hail:
“All right, Petrie! Shall join you in a mo-
ment!”
I started up, looked to right and left; but, although
the voice had been that of Nayland Smith, no sign
pould I discern of his presence!
“ Smith!” I cried -"Smith!”.
“Coming!"
Seriously doubting my senses, I looked in the di-
rection from which the voice had seemed to proceed
— and there was Nayland Smith.
He stood on the islet in the center of the pond,
and, as I perceived him, 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 made several 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,


56 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Petrie! It marks the site of one of the Plague Pits
where victims were buried during the Great Plague
of London. You will observe that, although you
have seen it every morning for some years, it remains
for a British Commissioner resident in Burma to
acquaint you with its history! Hullo!”- the laugh-
ter was gone from his eyes, and they were steely hard
again—"what the blazes have 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 the circumstances of my meeting with Kâra-
manèh.
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 ime
becile ! ”
I flushed with anger, for not even from Nayland
Smith, whom I esteemed above all other men, could I
accept such words uttered as he had uttered them.
We glared at one another.
“ Kâramaneh," he continued coldly, “is a beauti-
ful toy, I grant you; but so is a cobra. Neither is
suitable for playful purposes."
“Smith!" I cried hotly -“ drop that! Adopt
another tone or I cannot listen to you!"
“You must listen,” he said, squaring his lean jaw


THE NET
57
truculently. “You are playing, not only with a
pretty girl who is the favorite of a Chinese Nero,
but with my life! And I object, Petrie, on purely
personal grounds ! ”
I felt my anger oozing from me; for this was
strictly just. I had nothing to say, and Smith con-
tinued:
“You know that she is utterly false, yet a glance
or two from those dark eyes 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 are determined to go to pieces on the
rock that broke up Adam, do so! But don't involve
me in the wreck, Petrie — for that might mean a
yellow emperor of the world, and you know it!"
“Your words are unnecessarily brutal, Smith," I
said, feeling very crestfallen, “but there — perhaps
I fully deserve them all.”
"You do!” he assured me, but he relaxed imme-
diately. “A murderous attempt is made upon my
life, resulting in the death of a perfectly innocent
man in no way concerned. Along you coine and let
an accomplice, perhaps a participant, escape, merely
because she has a red mouth, or black lashes, or
whatever it is that fascinates you so hopelessly!"
He opened the wicker basket, sniffing at the con-
tents.
“Ah!" he snapped, “ do you recognize this
odor?”
“Certainly."


58 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“Then you have some idea respecting Kâra..
manèh'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, but one 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 some
thing!"


CHAPTER VI
UNDER THE ELMS
USK found Nayland Smith and me at the top
bedroom window. We knew, now that poor
Forsyth's body had been properly examined, that he
had died from poisoning. Smith, declaring that I
did not deserve his confidence, had refused to confide
in me his theory of the origin of the peculiar marks
upon the body.
“On the soft ground under the trees,” he said,
“I found his tracks right up to the point where -
something happened. There were no other fresh
tracks for several yards around. He was attacked
as he stood close to the trunk of one of the elms.
Six or seven feet away I found some other tracks,
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 it some 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 jaw hardened
at the thoughts of poor Forsyth "another attempt
59


60 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
along the same 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 star world and
summoning magic shadows into being. By midnight
the highroad showed deserted, the common was a
place of mystery; and save for the periodical passage
of an electric car, in blazing modernity, this was a
fit enough stage for an eerie drama.
No notice of the tragedy had appeared in print;
Nayland Smith was vested with powers to silence the
press. No detectives, no special constables, were
posted. My friend was of opinion that the public-
ity which had been given to the deeds of Dr. Fu.
Manchu in the past, together with the sometimes
clumsy co-operation of the police, had contributed
not a little to the Chinaman's success.
“There is only one thing to fear," he jerked sud-
denly; "he may not be ready for another attempt
to-night."
“Why?”
"Since he has only been in England for a short
time, his menagerie of venomous 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 across the blue
of the sky. Through a temporary rift in the veiling
the crescent of the moon looked down upon us. It


62 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Not a breeze stirred, as Smith, ahead of me
for I had slowed my pace — came up level with the
first tree. The moon sailed clear of the straggling
cloud wisps which alone told of the recent storm;
and I noted that an irregular patch of light lay
silvern on the moist ground under the elms where
otherwise lay shadow.
He passed on, slowly. I began to run again.
Black against the silvern patch, I saw him emerge —
and look up.
“Be careful, Smith!” I cried — and I was racing
under the trees to join him.
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 hearà a loud
splintering and sweeping of branches overhead; and
now as we staggered into the shadows it seemed that
one of the elms was reaching down to touch us! So,
at least, the phenomenon presented itself to my mind
in that fleeting moment 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 choking
groan ...


UNDER THE ELMS 63
The crack of Smith's pistol close beside me com-
pleted my confusion of mind.
“ Missed!” he yelled. “ Shoot it, Petrie! On
your left! For God's sake don't miss it!”
I turned. A lithe black shape was streaking past
me. I fired — once — twice. Another frightful
cry made yet more hideous the nocturne.
Nayland Smith was directing the ray of a pocket
torch upon the fallen bough.
“Have you killed it, Petrie ?” he cried.
“Yes, yes!”
I stood beside him, looking down. From the tan-
gle of leaves and twigs an evil yellow face looked up
at us. The features were contorted with agony, but
the malignant eyes, wherein light was dying, re-
garded us with inflexible hatred. The man was
pinned beneath the heavy bough; his back was
broken; and as we watched, he expired, frothing
slightly at the mouth, and quitted his tenement of
clay, leaving those glassy eyes set hideously upon us.
“The pagan gods fight upon our side," said Smith
strangely. “Elms have a dangerous habit of shed-
ding boughs in still weather — particularly after a
storm. Pan, god of the woods, with this one has
performed Justice's work of retribution."
“I don't understand. Where was this man -”.
"Up the tree, lying along the bough which fell,
Petrie! That is why he left no footmarks. Last
night no doubt he made his escape by swinging from
bough to bough, ape fashion, and descending to the


64. THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
ground somewhere at the other side of the coppice.”
He glanced at me.
"You are wondering, perhaps," he suggested,
“what caused the mysterious light? I could have
told you this morning, but I fear I was in a bad
temper, Petrie. It's very simple: a length of tape
soaked in spirit or something of the kind, and shel-
tered from the view of any one watching from your
windows, behind the trunk of the tree; then, the end
ignited, lowered, still behind the tree, to the ground.
The operator swinging it around, the flame ascended,
of course. I found the unburned fragment of the
tape last night, a few yards from here."
I was peering down at Fu-Manchu's servant, the
hideous yellow man who lay 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 of death; from that he re-
leased 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 I had traced upon the ground
here. They were caused by claws, Petrie!”.
“ Claws! I thought so! But what claws ? "


66 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
yellow fiend used the light as a decoy. The branch
which killed him jutted out over the path at a spot
where an opening in the foliage above allowed some
moon rays to penetrate. Directly the victim stood
beneath, the Chinaman uttered his bird cry; the one
below looked up, and the cat, previously held silent
and helpless in the leather sack, was dropped accu-
rately upon his head!”
“But”-I was growing confused.
Smith stooped lower.
“ The cat's claws are sheathed now," he said;
* but if you could examine them 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 know what it can do!"


CHAPTER VII
ENTER MR. ABEL SLATTIN
"| DON'T blame you!” rapped Nayland Smith.
1 “Suppose we say, then, a thousand 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 your information or not?”
Abel Slattin shrugged his shoulders, racially, and
returned to the armchair which he had just quitted.
He reseated himself, placing his hat and cane upon
my writing-table.
“A little agreement in black and white ? " he sug-
gested smoothly.
Smith raised himself up out of the white cane
chair, and, bending forward over a corner of the
table, scribbled busily upon a sheet of notepaper
with my fountain-pen.
The while he did so, I covertly studied our visitor.
He lay back in the armchair, his heavy eyelids low-
ered deceptively. He was a thought overdressed -
a big man, dark-haired and well groomed, who toyed
with a monocle most unsuitable to his type. During
the preceding conversation, I had been vaguely sur-
prised to note Mr. Abel Slattin's marked American
accent.
Sometimes, when Slattin moved, a big diamond


68 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Or
which he wore upon the third finger of his right
hand glittered magnificently. There was a sort of
bluish tint underlying the dusky skin, noticeable even
in his hands but proclaiming itself significantly in his
puffy face and especially under the eyes. I diag-
nosed a laboring valve somewhere in the heart sys-
tem.
Nayland Smith's pen scratched on. My glance
strayed from our Semitic caller to his cane, lying upon
the red leather before me. It was of most unusual
workmanship, apparently Indian, being made of
some kind of dark brown, mottled wood, bearing a
marked resemblance to a snake's skin; and the top
of the cane was carved in conformity, to represent the
head of what I took to be a puff-adder, fragments of
stone, or beads, being inserted to represent the eyes,
and the whole thing being finished with an artistic
:ealism almost startling.
When Smith had tossed the written page to Slattin,
and he, having read it with an appearance of careless-
ness, had folded it neatly and placed it in his pocket,
I said:
“You have a curio here?".
Our visitor, whose dark eyes revealed all the satis-
faction which, by his manner, 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? Everybody
does. It's my mascot."


ENTER MR. ABEL SLATTIN 69.
“ Really?”
“ It is indeed. Its former owner ascribed magical
powers to it! In fact, I believe he thought that it
was one of those staffs mentioned in biblical his-
tory -"
“ Aaron's rod?” suggested Smith, glancing at the
cane.
“Something of the sort,” said Slattin, standing up
and again preparing to 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 door closed, “ you hardly received our
visitor with cordiality.”
"I hate to have any relations with him," answered
my friend; “ but we must not be squeamish respecting
our instruments in dealing with Dr. Fu-Manchu.
Slattin has a rotten reputation — even for a private
inquiry agent. He is little better than a black-
mailer "
“How do you know?”.
“ Because I called on our friend Weymouth at the
Yard yesterday and looked 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


70 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
some sort of communication with the Chinese group;
I am only wondering -
“You don't mean —”.
“Yes — I do, Petrie! I tell you he is unscrupu.
lous enough to stoop even to that."
No doubt, Slattin knew that this gaunt, eager-eyed
Burmese commissioner was vested with ultimate au-
thority in his quest of the mighty Chinaman who rep-
resented things unutterable, whose potentialities for
evil were boundless as his genius, who personified a
secret danger, the extent and nature of which none
of us truly understood. And, learning of these
things, with unerring Semitic instinct he had sought
an opening in this glittering Rialto. But there were
two bidders!
“ You think he may have sunk so low as to become
a creature of Fu-Manchu ?" I asked, aghast.
“Exactly! If it paid him well I do not doubt that
he would serve that master as readily as any other.
His record is about as black as it well could be.
Slattin is of course an assumed name; he was known
as Lieutenant Pepley when he belonged to the New
York Police, and he was kicked 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 is undeniably a clever scoun-
drel."
“Shall you keep any appointment which he may
suggest?"


ENTER MR. ABEL SLATTIN 71
“ Undoubtedly. But I shall not wait until to-
morrow.”
“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 object is to draw us into some trap, he
will probably report his favorable progress 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 far-
seeing methods.
"By the way," I said, "you saw Eltham this
morning. He will soon be convalescent. Where,
in heaven's name, can he —".
“Don't be alarmed on his behalf, Petrie," inter-
rupted Smith. “His life is no longer in danger.”
I stared, stupidly.
“No longer in danger!”
“He received, some time yesterday, a letter, writ-
ten in Chinese, upon Chinese paper, and enclosed in
an ordinary business envelope, having a typewritten
address and bearing a London postmark.”
“Well?”


72 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“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 in China,
he has been discovered. He was a mandarin, and as
I cannot write the name of a traitor, I may not name
him. He was executed four days ago. 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 Chinese unless he were sincere;
and, to clear all doubt, I received a cable this morning
reporting that the Mandarin Yen-Sun-Yat was assas-
sinated in his own garden, in Nan-Yang, one day
last week.”


CHAPTER VIII
DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES
NOGETHER we marched down the slope of the
I quiet, suburban avenue; to take pause before a
small, detached house displaying the hatchet boards
of the Estate Agent. Here we found unkempt laurel
bushes and acacias run riot, from which arboreal
tangle protruded the notice —“To be Let or Sold."
Smith, with an alert glance to right and left,
pushed open the wooden gate and drew me in upon
the gravel path. Darkness mantled all; for the near-
est 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 in the unobtrusive blue serge
which is the undress uniform of the Force.
“Well? ”rapped my companion.
“Mr. Slattin returned ten minutes ago, sir," re-
ported the constable. “He came in a cab which he
dismissed —”
“He has not left again ? "
"A few minutes after his return," the man con
tinued," another cab came up, and a lady alighted."


74 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“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. In
our operations against the Chinese murder-group two
years before, we had had an ally in the enemy's camp
- Kâramanèh, the beautiful slave, whose presence in
those happenings of the past had colored the some-
times sordid drama with the opulence of old Arabia;
who had seemed a fitting figure for the romances of
Bagdad during the Caliphate — Kâramanèh, whom
I 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; professing to reveal the secrets of Dr.
Fu-Manchu, and all the time — I could not doubt it
- inveigling men into the net of this awful fisher.
Yesterday, I had been her dupe; yesterday, I had
rejoiced in my captivity. To-day, I was not the fa-
vored one; to-day I had not been selected recipient
of her confidences — confidences sweet, seductive,
deadly: but Abel Slattin, a plausible rogue, who, in
justice, should be immured in Sing Sing, was chosen
out, was enslaved by those lovely mysterious eyes,
was taking to his soul the lies which fell from those
perfect lips, triumphant in a conquest that must end


DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES
75
came againpurge my m
of all thi mpaign
in his undoing; deeming, poor fool, that for love of
him this pearl of the Orient was about to betray her
master, to resign herself a prize to the victor!
Companioned by these bitter reflections, I had lost
the remainder of the conversation between Nayland
Smith and the police officer; now, casting off the suc-
cubus memory which threatened to obsess me, I put
forth a giant mental effort to purge my mind of this
uncleanness, and became again an active participant
in the campaign against the Master - the director
of all things noxious.
Our plans being evidently complete, Smith seized
my arm, and I found myself again out upon the ave-
nue. He led me across the road and into the gate of
a house almost opposite. From the fact that two
upper windows were illuminated, I adduced that the
servants were retiring; the other windows were in
darkness, except for one on the ground floor to the
extreme left of the building, through the lowered
venetian blinds whereof streaks of light shone out.
"Slattin's study!" whispered Smith. “He does
not anticipate surveillance, and you will note that the
window is wide open!".
With that my friend crossed the strip of lawn,
and careless of the fact that his silhouette must have
been visible to any one passing the gate, climbed
carefully up the artificial rockery intervening, and
crouched upon the window-ledge peering into the
room.
A moment I hesitated, fearful that if I followed,


76 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
I should stumble or dislodge some of the larva blocks
of which the rockery was composed.
Then I heard that which summoned me to the at.
tempt, whatever the cost.
Through the open window came the sound of a
musical voice -- a voice possessing a haunting accent,
possessing a quality which struck upon my heart and
set it quivering as though it were a gong hung in my
bosom.
Kâramanèh was speaking.
Upon hands and knees, heedless of damage to my
garments, I crawled up beside Smith. One of the
laths was slightly displaced and over this my friend
was peering in. Crouching close beside him, I peered
in also.
I saw the study of a business man, with its files,
neatly arranged works of reference, roll-top desk,
and Milner safe. Before the desk, in a revolving
chair, sat Slattin. He sat half turned toward the
window, leaning back and smiling; so that I could
note the gold crown which preserved the lower left
molar. In an armchair by the window, close, very
close, and sitting with her back to me, was Kâra-
manèh!
She, who, in my dreams, I always saw, was ever
seeing, in an Eastern dress, with gold bands about
her white ankles, with jewel-laden fingers, with jewels
in her hair, wore now a fashionable costume and a
hat that could only have been produced in Paris.
Kâramanèh was the one Oriental woman I had ever


DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES
77
known who could wear European clothes; and as I
watched that exquisite profile, I thought that Delilah
must have been just such another as this, that, ex-
cepting the Empress Poppæa, history has record of
no woman, who, looking so innocent, was yet so ut-
terly vile.
“Yes, my dear," Slattin was saying, and through
his monocle ogling his beautiful 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?"
Kâramanèh put the question in a strangely listless
way.
“My dear ittle girl," replied Slattin, rising and
standing looking down at her, with his gold tooth
twinkling in the lamplight, “there will be a whole
division, if a whole division is necessary."
He sought to take her white gloved hand, which
rested upon the chair arm; but she evaded the at-
tempt with seeming artlessness, and stood up. Slate
tin 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; " but now that I know you are ready, I
can make my plans.”
She glided past him to the door, avoiding his out-
stretched arm with an artless art which made me
writhe; for once I had been the willing victim of all
these wiles.
“ But—" began Slattin.
u are


78 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“I will ring you up in less than half an hour,"
said Karamanèh; and without further ceremony, she
opened the door.
I still had my eyes glued to the aperture in the
blind, when Smith began tugging 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 clumsily followed my friend. I dislodged a
piece of granite in my descent; but, fortunately, Slat-
tin had gone out into the hall and could not well have
heard it.
We were crouching around an angle of the house,
when a flood of light poured down t'ie steps, and
Kâramanèh rapidly descended. I had a glimpse of
a dark-faced man who evidently had opened the door
for her, then all my thoughts were centered upon that
graceful figure receding from me in the direction of
the avenue. She wore a loose cloak, and I saw this
fluttering for a moment against the white gate posts;
then she was gone.
Yet Smith did not move. Detaining me with his
hand he crouched there against a quick-set hedge;
until, from a spot lower down the hill, we heard the
start of the cab which had been waiting. Twenty
seconds elapsed, and from some other distant spot a
second cab started.
“That's Weymouth!” snapped Smith. “With
decent luck, we should know Fu-Manchu's hidinge
piace before Slattin tells us!”


DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES 81
This in turn merged into a sort of hysterical sob-
bing.
I was on my feet now, and automatically making
for the door. I had a vague impression of Nayland
Smith's face beside me, the eyes glassy with a fearful
apprehension. Then the door was flung open, and,
in the bright light of the hall-way, I saw Slattin
standing — swaying and seemingly fighting with the
empty air.
“What is it? For God's sake, what has hap-
pened!” reached my ears dimly — and the man
Burke showed behind his master. White-faced I
saw him to be; for now Smith and I were racing up
the steps.
Ere we could reach him, Slattin, uttering another
choking cry, pitched forward and lay half across the
threshold.
We burst into the hall, where Burke stood with
both his hands raised dazedly to his head. I could
hear the sound of running feet upon the gravel, and
knew that Carter was coming to join us.
Burke, a heavy man with a lowering, bull-dog type
of face, collapsed onto his knees beside Slattin, and
began softly to laugh in little rising peals.
“Drop that!” snapped Smith, and grasping him
by the shoulders, he sent him spinning along the hall-
way, where he sank upon the bottom step of the
stairs, to sit with his outstretched fingers extended
before his face, and peering at us grotesquely through
the crevices.


82 THE RETURN OF DR. FUMANCHU
-
There were rustlings and subdued cries from the
upper part of the house. Carter came in out of the
darkness, carefully stepping over the recumbent fig-
ure; and the three of us stood there in the lighted
hall looking down at Slattin.
“Help us to move him back," directed Smith,
tensely; “ far enough to close the door."
Between us we accomplished this, and Carter fas.
tened the door. We were alone with the shadow of
Fu-Manchu's vengeance; for as I knelt beside the
body on the floor, a look and a touch sufficed to tell
me that this was but clay from which the spirit had
fled!
Smith met my glance as I raised my head, and his
teeth came together with a loud snap; the jaw mus-
cles stood out prominently beneath the dark skin;
and his face was grimly set in that odd, half-despair-
ful expression which I knew so well but which boded
so ill for whomsoever occasioned 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 of whispers 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 into the hall without my orders."
The masterful voice had its usual result; there was


DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES
83
a hurried retreat to the upper landing. Burke, shak-
ing like a man with an ague, sat on the lower step,
pathetically drumming his palms upon his uplifted
knees.
“I warned him, I warned him!” he mumbled mo-
notonously, “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 seeming to 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, I suppose?” He pointed to the
body. “And in the meantime I have some questions
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 were the only witness, it is by your aid
that we hope to clear the matter up.”
Exerting a gigantic effort to regain control of him-
self, Burke nodded, watching my friend with a child-
like eagerness. During the ensuing conversation, I
examined Slattin for marks of violence; and of what
I found, more anon.
“In the first place,” said Smith," you say that you


84 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
u warn
warned him. When did you 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?"
cidentally met a Chinaman at an East End
gaming-house, a man he had known in Frisco — a
man called Singapore Charlie -"
“What! Singapore Charlie!".
“ Yes, sir, the same man that had a dope-shop, two
years ago, down Ratcliffe 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, re-
flectively, as I saw out of the corner of my eye.
“The Seven Group!" he mused. “That is sig-
nificant. I always suspected that 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 be a police lieutenant ! ”
"Well, sir, he - Mr. Slattin - had a sort of
hold on this Singapore Charlie, and two years ago,
when he first met him, he thought that with his aid
of his left ear. m
saw out of the
“The'


DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES 85
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 his nod with equal grim-
aess.
"A couple of months ago," resumed Burke," he
met Charlie again down East, and the Chinaman in-
troduced him to a girl - some sort of an Egyptian
girl.”
“Go on!” snapped Smith -"I know her."
“He saw her a good many times — and she came
here once or twice. She made out that she and Sing,
apore Charlie were prepared to give away the boss
of the Yellow gang "
“For a price, of course?".
“I suppose so," said Burke; “but I don't know.
I only know that I warned him."
“H'm!” muttered Smith. “And now, what
took place to-night?”
"He had an appointment here with the girl," be-
gan Burke -
“I know all that," interrupted Smith. "I merely
want to know, what took place after the telephone
call?”
“Well, he told me to wait up, and I was dozing in
the next room to the study — the dining-room-
when the 'phone bell aroused me. I heard the lieu


86 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
tenant — Mr. Slattin, coming out, and I ran out too,
but only in time to 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 gave a most frightful scream, and
turned around like lightning as though some one had
attacked him from behind!"
“There was no one else in the hall?."
“No one at all. I was standing down there out-
side the dining-room just by the stairs, but he didn't
turn in my direction, he turned and looked right be.
hind him — where there was no one — nothing.
His cries were frightful." Burke's voice broke, and
he shuddered feverishly. “Then he made 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 no living thing near him when
he met his death.”
“We shall see," muttered Smith. He turned to
me—“What killed him?” he asked, 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 was becoming observable in the


DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES
87
injured hand and arm. Smith bent down and drew
a quick, sibilant breath.
“You know what this is, Petrie?" he cried.
“ Certainly. It was too late to employ a ligature
and useless to inject ammonia. Death was prac-
tically instantaneous. His heart ..."
There came a loud knocking and ringing.
“ Carter!” cried Smith, turning to the detective,
“open that door to no one — 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 whoever knocks, through the letter-box.
Petrie, don't move for your life! It may be here, in
the hallway! "


CHAPTER IX
THE CLIMBER
N UR search of the house of Abel Slattin ceased
only with the coming of the dawn, and yielded
nothing but disappointment. Failure followed upon
failure; for, in the gray light of the morning, our
own quest concluded, Inspector Weymouth returned
to report that the girl, Karamanèh, had thrown him
off the scent.
Again he stood before me, the big, burly friend of
old and dreadful days, a little grayer above the tem-
ples, which I set down for a record of former hor.
rors, but deliberate, stoical, thorough, as ever. His
blue eyes melted in the old generous way as he saw
me, and he gripped my hand in greeting
“ Once again,” he said, “your dark-eyed friend
has been too clever for me, Doctor. But the track
as far as I could follow, leads to the old spot. In
fact," — he turned to Smith, who, grim-faced and
haggard, looked thoroughly ill in that gray light -
“I believe Fu-Manchu's lair is somewhere near
the former opium-den of Shen-Yan Singapore
Charlie.'"
Smith nodded.


THE CLIMBER
91
collating my notes upon the renewed activity of the
Yellow Doctor, and was thus engaged when the
'phone bell disturbed me. It was Smith who was
wanted, however; and he went out eagerly, leaving
me to my task.
At the end of a lengthy conversation, he returned
from the 'phone and began, restlessly, to pace the
room. I made a pretense of continuing my labors,
but covertly I was watching him. He was twitching
at the lobe of his left ear, and his face was a study in
perplexity. Abruptly he burst out:
"I shall throw the thing up, Petrie! Either I am
growing too old to cope with such an adversary as
Fu-Manchu, or else my intellect has become dull. I
cannot seem to think clearly or consistently. For the
Doctor, this crime, this removal of Slattin, is
clumsy — unfinished. There are two explanations.
Either he, too, is losing his old cunning or he has
been interrupted!”
“ Interrupted!”
“Take the facts, Petrie," — Smith clapped his
hands upon my table and bent down, peering into my
eyes —"is it characteristic of Fu-Manchu to kill a
man by the direct agency of a snake and to implicate
one of his own damnable servants in this way?"
“But we have found no snake!”.
“Kâramanèh introduced one in some way. Do
you doubt it?”
“ Certainly Karamanèh visited him on the evening
of his death, but you must be perfectly well aware


92 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
that even if she had been arrested, no jury could con.
vict her."
Smith resumed his restless pacings up and down.
“You are very useful to me, Petrie," he replied;
“as a counsel for the defense you constantly rectify
my errors of prejudice. Yet I am convinced that our
presence at Slattin's house last night prevented Fu-
Manchu from finishing off this little matter as he had
designed to do."
“What has given you this idea ?”
“ Weymouth is responsible. He has rung me up
from the Yard. The constable on duty at the house
where the murder was committed, reports that some
one, less than an hour ago, attempted to break in."
“Break in!”
“Ah! you are interested? I thought the circum-
stance illuminating, also!".
“Did the officer see this person?"
“No; he only heard him. It was some one who
endeavored to enter by the bathroom window, which,
I am told, may be reached fairly easily by an agile
climber.”
“The attempt did not succeed?"
“No; the constable interrupted, but failed to make
a capture or even to secure 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, “but to-night I shall conceal myself in
Slattin's house and remain there for a week or a day


THE CLIMBER
93
- it matters not how long - until that attempt is
repeated. Quite obviously, Petrie, we have over-
looked something which implicates 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
sareer, has left a clue!"


THE CLIMBER RETURNS
95
As I grew more accustomed to the gloom, I found
myself staring at his office chair; once I found myself
expecting Abel Slattin to enter the room and occupy it.
There was a little China Buddha upon the bureau in
one corner, with a gilded cap upon its head, and as
some reflection of the moonlight sought out this little
cap, my thoughts grotesquely turned upon the mur-
dered man's gold tooth.
Vague creakings from within the house, sounds as
though of stealthy footsteps upon the stair, set my
nerves tingling; but Nayland Smith gave no sign,
and I knew that my imagination was magnifying these
ordinary night sounds out of all proportion to their
actual significance. Leaves rustled faintly outside
the window at my back: I construed their sibilant
whispers into the dreaded name — Fu-Manchu -
Fu-Manchu — Fu-Manchu!
So wore on the night; and, when the ticking clock
hollowly boomed the hour of one, I almost leaped
out of my chair, so highly strung were my nerves, 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 his constitutionally high-strung
temperament, at times, that temporarily he became
immune from human dreads. On such occasions he
would be icily cool amid universal panic; but, his ob-
ject accomplished, I have seen him in such a state of
collapse, that utter nervous exhaustion is the only
term by which I can describe it.
Tick-tick-tick-tick went the clock, and, with my


96 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
heart still thumping noisily 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 many hun-
dreds.
Then, cut from the confusion of minor noises, a
new, arresting sound detached itself. I ceased my
counting; no longer I noted the tick-tick of the clock,
nor the vague creakings, rustlings and whispers. I
saw Smith, shadowly, raise his hand in warning — in
needless warning, for I was almost holding my breath
in an effort of acute listening.
From high up in the house this new sound came —
from above the topmost room, it seemed, up under
the roof; a regular squeaking, oddly familiar, yet
elusive. Upon it followed a very soft and muffled
thud; then a metallic 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 top-
most landing of the house was a sort of glazed trap,
evidently set in the floor of a loft-like place extending
over the entire building. Somewhere in the red-tiled
roof above, there presumably existed a corresponding
skylight or lantern.
So I argued; and, ere I had come to any proper de-
cision, another sound, more intimate, came to inter-
rupt me.
This time I could be in no doubt; some one was lift-
ing the trap above the stairhead - slowly, cautiously,
and all but silently. Yet to my ears, attuned to tri-


THE CLIMBER RETURNS 97
fing disturbances, the trap creaked and groancá
noisily.
Nayland Smith waved to me to take a stand on
the other side of the opened door behind it, in
fact, where I should be concealed from the view 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 some supporting joist. A faint rustling (of dis-
carded garments, I told myself) spoke to my newly
awakened, acute perceptions, of the visitor preparing
to lower himself to the landing. Followed a groan
of woodwork submitted to sudden strain — and the
unmistakable pad of bare feet upon the linoleum of
the top corridor.
I knew now that one of Dr. Fu-Manchu's uncanny
servants had gained the roof of the house by some
means, had broken through the skylight and had de-
scended by means of the trap beneath on to the land.
ing.
In such a tensed-up state as I cannot describe, nor,
at this hour mentally reconstruct, I waited for the
creaking of the stairs which should tell of the crea-
ture's descent.
I was disappointed. Removed scarce a yard from
me as he was, I could hear Nayland Smith's soft,
staccato breathing; but my eyes were all for the dark.
ened hallway, for the 'smudgy outline of the stair-rail
with the faint patterning in the background which,
alone, indicated the wall.


98 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
It was amid an utter silence, unheralded by even
so slight a sound as those which I had acquired the
power of detecting — that I saw the continuity of the
smudgy line of stair-rail to be interrupted.
A dark patch showed upon it, just within my line of
sight, invisible to Smith on the other side of the door.
way, and some ten or twelve stairs up.
No sound reached me, but the dark patch vanished
-- and reappeared three feet lower down.
Still I knew that this phantom approach must be
unknown to my companion - and I knew that it was
impossible for me to advise him of it unseen by the
dreaded visitor.
A third time the dark patch — the hand of one
who, ghostly, silent, was creeping down into the hall-
way — vanished and reappeared on a level with my
eyes. Then a vague shape became visible; no more
than a blurr upon the dim design of the wall-paper
... and Nayland Smith got his first sight of the
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 have frustrated 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.


THE CLIMBER RETURNS
99
Smith hesitated not one instant. With a panther.
like leap he hurled himself into the hall.
"The lights, Petrie!” he cried "the lights!
The switch is near the street-door!”.
I clenched my fists in a swift effort to regain control
of my treacherous nerves, and, bounding past Smith,
and past the foot of the stair, 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 be-
hind me — an inhuman cry, less a cry than the shriek
of some enraged animal. ...
With his left foot upon the first stair, Nayland
Smith stood, his lean body bent perilously backward,
his arms rigidly thrust out, and his sinewy fingers grip-
ping the throat of an almost naked man — a man
whose brown body glistened unctuously, whose shaven
head was apish low, whose bloodshot 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, he brought it down
upon Nayland Smith's head!
I leaped forward to my friend's aid; but as though
the blows had been those of a feather, he stood like
some figure of archaic statuary, nor for an instant
relaxed the death grip which he had upon his adver-
sary's throat.
Thrusting my way up the stairs, I wrenched the
caa!


100 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
stick from the hand of the dacoit — for in this glis-
tening brown man, I recognized one of that deadly
brotherhood who hailed Dr. Fu-Manchu their Lord
and Master.
I cannot dwell upon the end of that encounter; I
cannot hope to make acceptable 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 even after Fu-Manchu's
servant hung limply in that frightful grip.
In his last moments of consciousness, with the
blood from his wounded head trickling down into his
eyes, he pointed to the stick which I had torn from the
grip of the dacoit, and which I still held in my hand.
“Not Aaron's rod, Petrie!” he gasped hoarsely
-" the rod of Moses ! — Slattin's stick!”.
Even in upon my anxiety for my friend, amaze-
ment intruded.
“But," I began - and turned to the rack in which
Slattin's favorite cane at that moment reposed had
reposed at the time of his death.
Yes! — there stood Slattin's cane; we had not
moved it; we had disturbed nothing in that stricken
house; there it stood, in company with an umbrella
and a malacca.
I glanced at the cane in my hand. Surely there
could not be two such in the world?


THE CLIMBER RETURNS
101
Smith collapsed on the floor at my feet.
• Examine the one in the rack, Petrie," he whis-
pered, 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 constable began knocking violently at the street
door, crossed to the rack and lifted 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 dropped the cane instantly.
“Merciful God!" I groaned.
Although, in every other particular, it corre-
sponded with that which I held — which I had taken
from the dacoit -- which he had come to substitute
for the cane now lying upon the floor — in one dread-
ful particular it differed.
Up to the snake's head it was an accurate copy;
but the head lived!
Either from pain, fear or starvation, the thing con-
fined in the hollow tube of this awful duplicate was
become torpid. Otherwise, no power on earth could
have saved me from the fate of Abel Slattin; for the
creature was an Australian death-adder.


CHAPTER XI
THE WHITE PEACOCK
MTAYLAND SMITH wasted no time in pursuing
IV the plan of campaign which he had mentioned
to Inspector Weymouth. Less than forty-eight
hours after quitting the house of the murdered Slat-
tin, I found myself bound along Whitechapel Road
upon strange enough business.
A very fine rain was falling, which rendered it
difficult to see clearly from the windows; but the
weather apparently had little effect upon the com-
mercial activities of the district. The cab was
threading a hazardous way through the cosmopolitan
throng crowding the street. On either side of me
extended a row of stalls, seemingly established in
opposition to the more legitimate shops upon the
inner side of the pavement.
Jewish hawkers, many of them in their shirt-
sleeves, acclaimed the rarity of the bargains which
they had to offer; and, allowing for the difference of
costume, these tireless Israelites, heedless of climatic
conditions, sweating at their mongery, might well
have stood, not in a squalid London thoroughfare,
but in an equally squalid market-street of the Orient.
102


THE WHITE PEACOCK
105
Shen-Yan we knew to be a creature of the Chinese
doctor, and only a most urgent call had prevented
me from joining Smith upon this promising, though
hazardous expedition.
At any rate, Fate willing it so, he had gone without
ine; and now — although Inspector Weymouth, as-
sisted by a number of C. I. D. men, was sweeping the
district about me to the time of my departure
nothing whatever had been heard of Smith. The or-
deal of waiting finally had proved too great to be
borne. With no definite idea of what I proposed to
do, I had thrown myself into the search, filled with
such dreadful apprehensions 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 absent at the
time of his departure; nor could Scotland Yard en-
lighten me upon this point. Weymouth was in charge
of the case — under Smith's direction — and since
the inspector had left the Yard, early that morning,
he had disappeared as completely as Smith, no report
having been received from him.
As my driver turned into the black mouth of a
narrow, ill-lighted street, and the glare and clamor of
the greater thoroughfare died behind me, I sank into
the corner of the cab burdened with such a sense of
desolation as mercifully comes but rarely.
We were heading now for that strange settlement
off the West India Dock Road, which, bounded by


106 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Limehouse Causeway and Pennyfields, and narrowly
confined within four streets, composes an unique
Chinatown, a miniature of that at Liverpool, and of
the greater one in San Francisco. Inspired with an
idea which promised hopefully, I raised the speaking-
tube.
“Take me first to the River Police Station," I
directed;" along Ratcliffe Highway."
The man turned and nodded comprehendingly, as
I could see through the wet pane.
Presently we swerved to the right and into an even
narrower street. This inclined in an easterly direc-
tion, and proved to communicate with a wide thor-
oughfare along which passed brilliantly lighted elec-
tric trams. I had lost all sense of direction, and
when, swinging to the left and to the right again, I
looked through the window and perceived that we
were before the door of the Police Station, I was
dully surprised.
In quite mechanical fashion I entered the depôt.
Inspector Ryman, our associate in one of the darkest
episodes of the campaign with the Yellow Doctor
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 dragging that dis-
trict --"
I shuddered at the word “ dragging " ; Ryman had


THE WHITE PEACOCK
107
not used it literally, but nevertheless it had conjured
up a dread possibility — a possibility in accordance
with the methods of Dr. Fu-Manchu. All within
space of an instant I saw the tide of Limehouse
Reach, the Thames lapping about the green-coated
timbers of a dock pier; and rising — falling — some-
times disclosing to the pallid light a rigid hand, some-
times a horribly bloated face — I saw the body of
Nayland Smith at the mercy of those oily waters.
Ryman continued:
“There is a launch out, too, patrolling the river-
side from here to Tilbury. Another lies at the
breakwater ” — he jerked his thumb over his shoul-
der. “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 be done. Can you give
me the address of the place to which Mr. Smith wens:
last night?”
“ Certainly,” said Ryman; “ I thought you knew it.
You remember Shen-Yan's place — by Limehouse
Basin ? Well, further east — east of the Causeway,
between Gill Street and Three Colt Street — is a
block of wooden buildings. You recall them?”.
“Yes," I replied. “Is the man established there
again, then?”
“ It appears so, but, although you have evidently
not been informed of the fact, Weymouth raided the
establishment in the early hours of this morning!"
“Well?” I cried.


108 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“Unfortunately with no result," continued the in-
spector. “The notorious Shen-Yan was missing,
and although there is no real doubt that the place is
used as a gaming-house, not a particle of evidence to
that effect could be obtained. Also — there was no
sign of Mr. Nayland Smith, and no sign of the Amer-
ican, 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 them enter. A signal had been ar-
ranged, but it was never given; and at about half past
four, the place was raided."
“ Surely some arrests were made ?"
"But there was no evidence!” cried Ryman
“Every inch of the rat-burrow was searched. The
Chinese gentleman who posed as the proprietor of
what he claimed to be a respectable lodging-house
offered every facility to the 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 slowly into the
rain and mist, and nodding to the taxi-driver to pro-
ceed to our original destination, I re-entered the cab.
As we moved off, the lights of the River Police
depôt were swallowed up in the humid murk, and


THE WHITE PEACOCK
109
again I found myself being carried through the dark-
ness of those narrow streets, which, like a maze, hold
secret within their labyrinth mysteries as great, and
at least as foul, as that of Pasiphaë.
The mai keting centers I had left far behind me; to
my right stretched the broken range of riverside
buildings, and beyond them flowed the Thames, a
stream more heavily burdened with secrets than ever
was Tiber or Tigris. On my left, occasional flicker-
ing lights broke through the mist, for the most part
the lights of taverns; and saving these rents in the
veil, the darkness was punctuated with nothing but the
faint and yellow luminance of the street lamps.
Ahead was a black mouth, which promised to swal-
low me up as it had swallowed up my friend.
In short, what with my lowered condition and con-
sequent frame of mind, and what with the traditions,
for me inseparable from that gloomy quarter of Lon-
don, I was in the grip of a shadowy menace which at.
any moment might become tangible — I perceived, in
the most commonplace objects, the yellow hand of Dr.
Fu-Manchu.
When the cab stopped in a place of utter darkness,
I aroused myself with an effort, opened the door, and
stepped out into the mud of a narrow lane. A high
brick wall frowned upon me from one side, and,
dimly perceptible, there towered a smoke stack, be-
yond. On my right uprose the side of a wharf build-
ing, shadowly, and some distance ahead, almost ob-
scured by the drizzling rain, a solitary lamp flickered, •


TIO THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
I turned up the collar of my raincoat, shivering, as
much at the prospect as from physical chill.
“You will wait here," I said to the man; and,
feeling in my breast-pocket, I added: “If you hear
the note of a whistle, drive on and rejoin me.”
He listened attentively and with a certain eager-
ness. I had selected him that night for the reason
that he had driven Smith and myself on previous occa-
sions and had proved himself a man of intelligence.
Transferring a Browning pistol from my hip-pocket
to that of my raincoat, I trudged on into the mist.
The headlights of the taxi were swallowed up be.
hind me, and just abreast of the street lamp I stood
listening.
Save for the dismal sound of rain, and the trickling
of water along the gutters, all about me was silent.
Sometimes this silence would be broken by the distant,
muffled note of a steam siren; and always, forming a
sort of background to the near stillness, was the re.
mote din of riverside activity.
I walked on to the corner just beyond the lamp.
This was the street in which the wooden buildings
were situated. I had expected to detect some evi-
dences of surveillances, but if any were indeed being
observed, the fact was effectively masked. Not a
living creature was visible, peer as I could.
Plans, I had none, and perceiving that the street
was empty, and that no lights showed in any of the
windows, I passed on, only to find that I had entered
a cul-de-sac.


THE WHITE PEACOCK
III
A rickety gate gave access to a descending flight of
stone steps, the bottom invisible in the denser shad-
ows of an archway, beyond which, I doubted not, lay
the river.
Still uninspired by any definite design, I tried the
gate and found that it was unlocked. Like some
wandering soul, as it has since seemed to me, I
descended. There was a lamp over the archway, but
the glass was broken, and the rain apparently had
extinguished the light; as I passed under it, I could
hear the gas whistling from the burner.
Continuing my way, I found myself upon a narrow
wharf with the Thames flowing gloomily beneath me.
A sort of fog hung over the river, shutting me in
Then came an incident.
Suddenly, quite near, there arose a weird and
mournful cry — a cry indescribable, and inexpressibly
uncanny !
I started back so violently that how I escaped fall.
ing into the river I 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
the folly of my presence alone in such a place, I began
to edge back toward the foot of the steps, away
from the thing that cried; when — a great white
shape uprose like a phantom before mel...
There are few men, I suppose, whose lives have
been crowded with so many eerie happenings as mine,
but this phantom thing which grew out of the dark.
ness, which seemed about to envelope me, takes rank


112 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU"
in my memory amongst the most fearsome appari-
tions which I have witnessed.
I knew that I was frozen with a sort of super-
natural terror. I stood there with hands clenched,
staring — staring at that white shape, which
seemed to float.
As I stared, every nerve in my body thrilling, I
distinguished the outline of the phantom. With a
subdued cry, I stepped forward. A new sensation
claimed me. In that one stride I passed from the
horrible to the bizarre.
I found myself confronted with something tan-
gible, certainly, but something whose presence in that
place was utterly extravagant - could only be recon.
cilable in the dreams of an opium slave.
Was I awake, was I sane? Awake and sane be-
yond doubt, but surely moving, not in the purlieus of
Limehouse, but in the fantastic realms of fairyland.
Swooping, with open arms, I rounded up in an
angle against the building and gathered in this
screaming thing which had inspired in me so keen a
terror.
The great, ghostly fan was closed as I did so, and I
stumbled back toward the stair with my struggling
captive tucked under my arm; I mounted into one of
London's darkest slums, carrying a beautiful white
peacock!


CHAPTER XII
DARK EYES LOOKED INTO MINE
M Y adventure had done nothing to relieve the
I feeling of unreality which held me enthralled.
Grasping the struggling bird firmly by the body, and
having the long white tail fluttering a yard or so be-
hind me, I returned to where the taxi waited.
“Open the door!” I said to the man who
greeted me with such a stare of amazement that I
laughed outright, though my mirth was but hollow.
He jumped into the road and did as I directed.
Making sure that both windows were closed, I thrust
the peacock into the cab and shut the door upon 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, take it back with you to the River Police
Station."
“ Right you are, sir," said the man, remounting his
seat. “It's the first time I ever saw a peacock in
Limehouse!”
It was the first time I had seen one, and the inci-
dent struck me as being more than odd; it gave me an
idea, and a new, faint hope. I returned to the head
113


114 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
of the steps, at the foot of which I had met with this
singular experience, and gazed up at the dark build-
ing beneath which they led. Three windows were
visible, but they were broken and neglected. One,
immediately above the arch, had been pasted up with
brown paper, and this was now peeling off in the rain,
a little stream of which trickled down from the de-
tached corner to drop, drearily, upon the stone stairs
beneath.
Where were the detectives? I could only assume
that they had directed their 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 the Chinaman,
grew stronger, unaccountably. I had descended
some eight steps, and was at the darkest part of the
archway or tunnel, when confirmation of my theories
came to me.
A noose settled accurately upon my shoulders, was
snatched tightly about my throat, and with a feeling
of insupportable agony at the base of my skull, and a
sudden supreme knowledge that I was being strangled
– 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 any rate, recovery
was slow.
The first sensation to return to me was a sort of


DARK EYES LOOKED INTO MINE 115
repetition of the asphyxia. The blood seemed to be
forcing itself into my eyes — I choked — 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 lay seemed to be rocking like
the deck of a ship, and I glided back again into a
place of darkness and forgetfulness.
My second awakening was heralded by a returning
sense of smell; for I became conscious of a faint, ex-
quisite perfume.
It brought me to my senses as nothing else could
have done, and I sat upright with a hoarse cry. I
could have distinguished that perfume amid a thou-
sand others, could have marked it apart from the rest
in a scent bazaar. For me it had one meaning, and
one meaning only — Kâramanèh.
She was near to me, or had been near to me!
And in the first moments of my awakening, I
groped about in the darkness blindly seeking her.
Then my swollen throat and throbbing head, together
with my utter inability to move my neck even slightly,
reminded me of the facts as they were. I knew in
that bitter moment that Kâramanèh was no longer
my friend; but, for all her beauty and charm, was the
most heartless, the most fiendish creature in the sery-
ice of Dr. Fu-Manchu. I groaned aloud in my de-
spair and misery.
Something stirred, near to me in the room, and set
my nerves creeping with a new apprehension. I
became fully alive to the possibilities of the darkness.
Ul.


116 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
To my certain knowledge, Dr. Fu-Manchu at this
time had been in England for fully three months,
which meant that by now he must be equipped with all
the instruments of destruction, animate and inani-
mate, which dread experience had taught me to asso-
ciate with him.
Now, as I crouched there in that dark apartment
listening for a repetition of the sound, I scarcely
dared to conjecture what might have occasioned it,
but my imagination peopled the place with reptiles
which writhed upon the floor, with tarantulas and
other deadly insects which crept upon the walls, which
might drop upon me from the ceiling at any moment.
Then, since nothing stirred about me, I ventured to
move, turning my shoulders, for I was unable to move
my aching head; and I looked in the direction from
which a faint, very faint, light proceeded.
A regular tapping sound now began to attract my
attention, and, having turned about, I perceived that
behind me was a broken window, in places patched
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 immedi-
ately above the archway; and listening intently, I per-
ceived above the other faint sounds of the night, or
thought that I perceived, the hissing of the gas from
the extinguished lamp-burner.
Unsteadily I rose to my feet, but found myself
swaying like a drunken man. I reached out for sup-


DARK EYES LOOKED INTO MINE 117
port, stumbling in the direction of the wall. My foot
came in contact with something that lay there, and I
pitched forward and fell. ...
I anticipated a crash which would put an end to my
hopes of escape, but my fall was comparatively noise-
less -- for I fell upon the body of a man who lay
bound up with rope close against the wall!
A moment I stayed as I fell, the chest of my fellow
captive rising and falling beneath me as he breathed.
Knowing that my life depended upon retaining a firm
hold upon myself, I succeeded in overcoming the diz-
ziness and nausea which threatened to drown my
senses, and, moving back so that I knelt upon the
floor, I fumbled in my pocket for the electric lamp
which I had placed there. My raincoat had been re-
moved whilst I was unconscious, and with it my pistol,
but the lamp was untouched.
I took it out, pressed the button, and directed the
ray upon the face of the man beside me.
It was Nayland Smith!
Trussed up and fastened to a ring in the wall he
lay, having a cork gag strapped so tightly between
his teeth that I wondered how he had escaped suffoca-
tion.
But, although a grayish pallor showed through the
tan of his skin, his eyes were feverishly bright, and
there, as I knelt beside him, I thanked heaven, silently
but fervently.
Then, a furious haste, I set to work to remove the
gag. It was most ingeniously secured by means of


118 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
leather straps buckled at the back of his head, but I
unfastened these without much difficulty, and he spat
out the gag, uttering an exclamation of disgust.
“Thank God, old man!” he said, huskily.
" Thank God that you are alive! I saw them drag
you in, and I thought ..."
“I have been thinking the same about you for
more than twenty-four hours," I said, reproachfully.
“Why did you start without -"
“ I did not want you to come, Petrie," he replied.
“I had a sort of premonition. You see it was real-
ized; and instead of being as helpless as I, Fate has
made you the instrument of my release. Quick!
You have a knife? Good!” The old, feverish
energy was by no means extinguished in him. “ Cut
the ropes about my wrists and ankles, but don't other-
wise disturb them ".
I set to work eagerly.
“Now," Smith continued, "put that filthy gag in
place again — but you need not strap it so tightly!
Directly they find that you are alive, they will treat
you the same - you understand? She has been here
three times --"
“Kâramaneh?”...
“Ssh!”
I heard a sound like the opening of a distant door.
“Quick! the straps of the gag!" whispered Smith
-“ and pretend to recover consciousness just as they
enter -"
Clumsily I followed his directions, for my fingers


DARK EYES LOOKED INTO MINE 119
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 of a desolate, empty passage be-
yond. On the threshold stood Kâramaneh. She
held in her hand a common tin oil lamp which smoked
and flickered with every movement, filling the already
none too cleanly air with an odor of burning paraffin.
She personified the outré; nothing so incongruous
as her presence in that place could well be imagined.
She was dressed as I remembered once to have seen
her two years before, in the gauzy silks of the harem.
There were pearls glittering like great tears amid the
cloud of her wonderful hair. She wore broad gold
bangles upon her bare arms, and her fingers were
laden with jewelry. A heavy girdle swung from her
hips, defining the lines of her slim shape, and about
one white ankle was a gold band.
As she appeared in the doorway I almost entirely
closed my eyes, but my gaze rested fascinatedly upon
the little red slippers which she wore.
Again I detected the exquisite, elusive perfume,
which, like a breath of musk, spoke of the Orient;
and, as always, it played havoc with my reason, seem-
ing to intoxicate me as though it were the very essence
of her loveliness.
But I had a part to play, and throwing out one
clenched hand so that my fist struck upon the floor, I
uttered a loud groan, and made as if to rise upon my
knees.


DARK EYES LOOKED INTO MINE 121
toward the lovely, dark-eyed Kâramanèh, toward the
faithless, evil Kâramanèh! So much for myself.
The door had not been closed ten seconds, ere
Smith again was spitting out the gag, swearing under
his breath, and stretching his cramped limbs free
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, enigmat-
ically.
“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 of this person, but no more
than an idea. Something unusual is going on, Petrie;
otherwise I should have been a dead man twenty-four
hours ago. Something even more important than my
death engages Fu-Manchu's attention and this can
only be the presence of the mysterious visitor. Your
seductive friend, Kâramanèh, is arrayed in her very
becoming national costume in his honor, I presume.”
He stopped abruptly; then added: “I would give


I22
122 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
five hundred pounds for a glimpse of that visitor's
face!"
“Is Burke "
“God knows what has become of Burke, Petrie!
We were both caught napping in the establishment of
the amiable Shen-Yan, where, amid a very mixed
company of poker players, we were losing our money
like gentlemen.”
“But Weymouth _"
“Burke and I had both been neatly sand-bagged,
my dear Petrie, and removed elsewhere, some hours
before Weymouth raided the gaming-house. Oh! I
don't know how they smuggled us away with the po-
lice watching the place; but my presence here is suffie
cient evidence of the fact. Are you armed?"
“No; my pistol was in my raincoat, which is miss-
ing."
In the dim light from the broken window, I could
see Smith tugging reflectively 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 am assured, is being held some-
where in this building; and to-night would see the end
of my struggle with the Fu-Manchu group -- the end


DARK EYES LOOKED INTO MINE 123
of the whole Yellow menace! For not only is Fu-
Manchu here, Petrie, with all his gang of assassins,
but he whom I believe to be the real head of the group
- a certain mandarin - is here also!”


CHAPTER XIII
The SACRED ORDER
QMITH stepped quietly across the room and tried
the door. It proved to be unlocked, and an in-
stant later, we were both outside in the passage.
Coincident with our arrival there, arose a sudden out-
cry from some place at the westward end. A high-
pitched, grating voice, in which guttural notes alter-
nated 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, raised hysterically in one of those out-
bursts which in the past I had diagnosed as symp-
tomatic of dangerous mania.
The voice rose to a scream, the scream of some
angry animal rather than anything human. Then,
chokingly, it ceased. Another short sharp cry fol-
lowed - but not in the voice of Fu-Manchu — a dull
groan, and the sound of a fall.
With Smith still grasping my wrist, I shrank back
into the doorway, as something that looked in the
darkness like a great ball of fluff came rapidly along
the passage toward me. Just at my feet the thing
stopped and I made it out for a small animal. The
124


THE SACRED ORDER 125
tiny, gleaming eyes looked up at me, and, chattering
wickedly, the creature bounded past and was lost
from view.
It was Dr. Fu-Manchu's marmoset.
Smith dragged me back into the room which we
had just left. As he partly reclosed the door, I heard
the clapping of hands. In a condition of most dread.
ful suspense, we waited; until a new, ominous sound
proclaimed itself. Some heavy body was being
dragged into the passage. I heard the opening of a
trap. Exclamations in guttural voices told of a
heavy task in progress; there was a great straining
and creaking - whereupon the trap was softly re-
closed.
Smith bent to my ear.
“Fu-Manchu has chastised one of his servants,"
he whispered. “There will be food for the grap-
pling-irons to-night!"
I shuddered violently, for, without Smith's words,
I knew that a bloody deed 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 rain outside 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."


126 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“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 progress to the west. Ten paces amid abso-
lute darkness, and we found ourselves abreast of a
branch corridor. At the further end, through a kind
of little 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 my feet was a square wooden trap.
As I stooped to examine it, I glanced back, painfully,
over my shoulder — and saw Nayland Smith tiptoe-
ing away from me along the passage toward the light!
Inwardly I cursed his folly, but the temptation to
peep in at that little window proved too strong for
me, as it had proved too strong for him.
Fearful that some board would creak beneath my
tread, I followed; and side by side we two crouched,
looking into a small rectangular room. It was a
bare and cheerless apartment with unpapered walls
and carpetless floor. A table and a chair constituted
the sole furniture.
Seated in the chair, with his back toward us, was
a portly Chinaman who wore a yeilow, silken robe.
His face, it was impossible to see; but he was beating
his fist upon the table, and pouring out a torrent of


128 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
sat in the chair; and I perceived in his eyes the light
of a sudden comprehension.
As the tall figure of the Chinese doctor came pace
ing into view again, Smith, his head below the level
of the window, pushed me gently along the passage.
Regaining the site of the trap, he whispered to me:
“We owe our lives, Petrie, to the national child.
ishness of the Chinese! A race of ancestor worship-
ers is capable of anything, and Dr. Fu-Manchu, the
dreadful being who has rained terror upon Europe,
stands in imminent peril of disgrace for having lost a
decoration."
“What do you mean, Smith ? "
“I mean that this is no time for delay, Petrie !
Here, unless I am greatly mistaken, lies the rope by
means of which you made your entrance. It shall be
the means of your exit. Open the trap!"
Handing the lamp to Smith, I stooped and care-
fully raised the trap-door. At which moment, a sin-
gular 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 retained sufficient presence of mind to re-
place it gently. Standing upright, I turned ...
and there, with her little jeweled hand resting upon
Smith's arm, stood Karamanèh !
In all my experience of him, I had never seen Nay.
land Smith so utterly perplexed. Between anger,


THE SACRED ORDER 129
distrust and dismay, he wavered; and each passing
emotion was written legibly upon the lean bronzeď
features. Rigid with surprise, he stared at the beau-
tiful face of the girl. She, although her hand still
rested upon Smith's arm, had her dark eyes turned
upon me with that same enigmatical expression.
Her lips were slightly parted, and her breast heaved
tumultuously.
This ten seconds of silence in which we three stood
looking at one another encompassed the whole gamut
of human emotion. The silence was broken by
Karamanèh.
“They will be coming back that way!" she
whispered, bending eagerly toward me. (How, in
the most desperate moments, I loved to listen to that
odd, musical accent!) “ Please, if you would save
your life, and spare mine, trust me!”- She suddenly
clasped her hands together and looked up into my
face, passionately –“ Trust me just for once
and I will show you the way!”
Nayland Smith never removed his gaze from her
for a moment, nor did he stir.
“Oh!" she whispered, tremulously, and stamped
one little red slipper upon 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 raised again in 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 began slowly to lift!


130 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Kâramanèh stilled a little sobbing cry; but the
warning came too late. A hideous yellow face with
oblique squinting eyes, appeared in the aperture.
I found myself inert, useless; I could neither think
nor act. Nayland Smith, however, as if instinctively,
delivered a pitiless kick at the head protruding above
the trap.
A sickening crushing sound, with a sort of muffled
snap, spoke of a broken jaw-bone; and with no word
or cry, the Chinaman fell. As the trap descended
with a bang, I heard the thud of his body on the
stone stairs beneath.
But we were lost. Karamanèh fed along one of
the passages lightly as a bird, and disappeared —
as Dr. Fu-Manchu, his top lip drawn up above his
teeth in the manner of an angry jackal, appeared
from the other.
“This way!” cried Smith, in a voice that rose
almost to a shriek —“this way!”—and he led
toward the room overhanging the steps.
Off we dashed with panic swiftness, only to find
that this retreat also was cut off. Dimly visible in
the darkness was a group of yellow men, and de-
spite the gloom, the curved blades of the knives which
they carried 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 SACRED ORDER
131
“The game's up, Petrie!” muttered Smith. “It
has been a long fight, but Fu-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, the dacoits were upon me.
A sinewy brown arm shot over my shoulder, and
the whistle was dashed from my grasp. Then came
a whirl of maelstrom fighting, with Smith and myself
ever sinking lower amid a whirlpool, as it seemed,
of blood-lustful eyes, yellow fangs, and gleaming
blades.
I had some vague idea that the rasping voice of
Fu-Manchu broke once through the turmoil, and
when, with my wrists tied behind me, I emerged from
the strife to find myself lying beside Smith in the
passage, I could only assume that the Chinaman had
ordered his bloody servants to take us alive; for say-
ing numerous bruises and a few superficial cuts, I
was unwounded.
The place was utterly deserted again, and we two
panting captives found ourselves alone with Dr. Fu-
Manchu. The scene was unforgettable; that dimly
lighted passage, its extremities masked in shadow,
and the tall, yellow-robed figure of the Satanic
Chinaman towering over us where we lay.
He had recovered his habitual calm, and as I
peered at him through the gloom, I was impressed
anew with the tremendous intellectual force of the
man. He had the brow of a genius, the features of


132 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
a born ruler; and even in that moment I could find
time to search my memory, and to discover that the
face, saving the indescribable evil of its expression,
was identical with that of Seti, the mighty Pharaoh
who lies in the Cairo Museum.
Down the passage came leaping and gamboling
the doctor's marmoset. Uttering its shrill, whis-
tling cry, it leaped onto his shoulder, clutched with its
tiny fingers at the scanty, neutral-colored hair upon
his crown, and bent forward, peering grotesquely into
that still, dreadful face.
Dr. Fu-Manchu stroked the little creature; and
crooned to it, as a mother to her infant. Only this
crooning, and the labored breathing of Smith and
myself, broke that impressive stillness.
Suddenly the guttural voice began:
“You come at an opportune time, Mr. Commis-
sioner Nayland Smith, and Dr. Petrie; at a time
when the greatest man in China flatters me with a
visit. In my absence from home, a tremendous
honor has been conferred upon me, and, in the hour
of this supreme honor, dishonor and calamity have
befallen! For my services to China — the New
China, the China of the future — I have been ad.
mitted by the Sublime Prince to the Sacred Order
of the White Peacock."
Warming to his discourse, he threw wide his arms,
hurling the chattering marmoset fully five yards
along the corridor.


THE SACRED ORDER 133
IS
"O god of Cathay!" he cried, sibilantly, "in
what have I sinned that this catastrophe has been
visited upon my head! Learn, my two dear friends,
that the sacred white peacock brought to these misty
shores for my undying glory, has been lost to me!
Death is the penalty of such a sacrilege; death shall
be my lot, since death I deserve.”
Covertly Smith nudged me with his elbow. I
knew what the nudge was designed to convey; he
would remind me of his words - anent the childish
trifles which sway the life of intellectual China.
Personally, I was amazed. That Fu-Manchu's
anger, grief, sorrow and resignation were real, no
one watching him, and caring his voice, could doubt.
He continued:
“By one deed, and one deed alone, may I win a
lighter punishment. By one deed, and the resigna-
tion of all my titles, all my lands, and all my honors,
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 our graves should hold inviolate !
He suddenly opened fully those blazing green eyes
and directed their baneful glare upon Nayland Smith.
“The Director of the Universe," he continued,
softly, “has relented toward me. To-night, you
diel To-night, the arch-enemy of our caste shall
be no more. This is my offering the price of re-
demption ..."


134 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
ve
My mind was working again, and actively. I
managed to grasp the stupendous 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 his eyes, now obscured their green-
ness, and lent him the appearance of a blind man.
“ Dr. Petrie," he said, softly, “I shall always
listen to you with respect.”
“I have an offer to make,” I continued, seeking to
steady my voice. “Give us our freedom, and I will
restore your shattered honor -1 will restore the
sacred peacock!”
Dr. Fu-Manchu bent forward until his face was so
close to mine that I could see the innumerable lines
which, an intricate network, covered his yellow 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 where it 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 threw his arms and a light of exalta-
tion gleamed in the now widely opened, catlike eyes.
“O god!” he screamed, frenziedly —“O god
of the Golden Age I like a phenix I arise from the
ashes of myself I” He turned to me. “Quick !
Quick! make your bargain! End my suspense!”


THE SACRED ORDER
135
Smith stared at me like a man dazed; but, ignor-
ing him, I went on:
“You will release me, now, immediately. In
another ten minutes it will be too late; my friend
will remain. One of your — servants — can accom-
pany me, and give the signal when I return with the
peacock. Mr. Nayland Smith and yourself, or an-
other, will join me at the corner of the street where
the raid took place last night. We shall then give
you ten minutes' grace, after which we shall take
whatever steps we choose."
“Agreed !" cried Fu-Manchu. “I ask but one
thing from an Englishman; your word of honor?"
“I give it.”
“I, also,” said Smith, hoarsely.
Ten minutes later, Nayland Smith and I, standing
beside the cab, whose lights gleamed yellowly
through the mist, exchanged a struggling, frightened
bird for our lives — capitulated with the enemy of
the white race.
With characteristic audacity — and characteristic
trust in the British sense of honor - Dr. Fu-Manchu
came in person with Nayland Smith, in response to
the wailing signal of the dacoit who had accompanied
me. No word was spoken, save that the cabman
suppressed a curse of amazement; and the China-
man, his sinister servant at his elbow, bowed low
and left us, surely to the mocking laughter of the
gods !


CHAPTER XIV
THE COUGHING HORROR
T LEAPED up in bed with a great start.
1 My sleep was troubled often enough in these
days, which immediately followed our almost mirac-
ulous escape from the den of Fu-Manchu; and now,
as I crouched there, nerves aquiver — listening —
listening — I could not be sure if this dank panic
which possessed me had its origin in nightmare 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 one aroused
thus, I listened, and the silence seemed complete.
Perhaps I had been dreaming ....
“Help! Petrie! Help! ...".
It was Nayland Smith in the room above me!
My doubts were dissolved; this was no trick of
an imagination disordered. Some dreadful menace
threatened my friend. Not delaying even to snatch
my dressing-gown, I rushed out on to the landing, up
the stairs, bare-footed as I was, threw open the door
of Smith's room and literally hurled myself in.
Those cries had been the cries of one assailed, had
136


THE COUGHING HORROR
137
been uttered, I judged, in the brief interval of a life
and death struggle; had been choked off ...
A certain amount of moonlight found access to the
room, without spreading so far as the bed in which
my friend lay. But at the moment of my headlong
entrance, and before I had switched on the light, my
gaze automatically was directed to the pale moon.
beam streaming through the window 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 not claim that my vision was true;
but across this moonbeam passed a sort of gray
streak, for all the world as though some long thin
shape had been withdrawn, snakelike, from the
room, through the open window ... From some-
where 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 leaped forward to the bed a word pic.
ture of what I had seen formed in my mind; and I
found that I was thinking of a gray feacher boa.
“ Smith!” I cried (my voice seerned to pitch
itself, unwilled, in a very high key), “Smith, old
man!"
He made no reply, and a sudden, sorrowful fear
clutched at my heart-strings. He was lying half out
of bed flat upon his back, his head at a dreadful
angle with his body. As I bent over hin, and seized


138 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
him by the 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 hap-
pened?"
I heaved him back onto the pillow, and looked
anxiously into his face. Habitually gaunt, the flesh
so refined away by the consuming nervous energy of
the man as to reveal the cheekbones in sharp promi.
nence, he now looked truly ghastly. His skin was so
sunbaked as to have changed constitutionally; noth-
ing could ever eradicate that tan. But to-night a
fearful grayness was mingled with the brown, his
lips were purple ... and there were marks of
strangulation upon the lean throat — ever darken-
ing weals made by clutching fingers.
He began to breathe stentoriously and convul.
sively, inhalation being accompanied by a significant
gurgling in the throat. But now my calm was re-
stored in face of a situation which called for profes-
sional attention.
I aided my friend's labored respirations by the
usual means, setting to work vigorously; so that pres-
ently he began to clutch at his inflamed throat which
that murderous pressure had threatened to close.
I could hear sounds of movement about the house,
showing that not I alone had been awakened by those
hoarse screams.
“It's all right, old man," I said, bending over
him; “brace up!"


140 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
His words referred to the state of the windows.
Although the night was oppressively hot, these were
only opened some four inches at top and bottom.
Further opening was impossible because of iron
brackets screwed firmly into the casements which pre-
vented the windows being raised or lowered 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 to those screwed-up windows, the
fact came home to my mind that this precaution had
proved futile. I thought of the thing which I had
likened to a feather hoa; and I looked at the swollen
weals made by clutching fingers 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 again to Smith, who, having struggled up
right, was still fingering his injured throat ruefully:
“God only knows, Petrie!” he said; “no human
arm could have reached me ...".
For us, the night was ended so far as sleep was
concerned. Arrayed in his dressing-gown, Smith
sat in the white cane chair in my study with a glass
of brandy-and-water beside him, and (despite my
official prohibition) with the cracked briar which had
sent up its incense in many strange and dark places
of the East and which yet survived to perfume these
prosy rooms in suburban London, steaming between


THE COUGHING HORROR
141
his teeth. I stood with my elbow resting upon the
mantelpiece looking down at him where he sat.
“ By God! Petrie,” he said, yet again, with his
fingers straying gently over the surface of his throat,
" that was a narrow shave — a damned narrow
shave!”
“Narrower than perhaps you appreciate, old
man," I replied. “You were a most unusual shade
of blue when I found you ..."
"I managed," said Smith evenly, "to tear those
clutching fingers away for 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, had it been within reach of
the window; but, knowing that the doctor avoids
noisy methods, I had thought myself fairly safe so
long as I made it impossible for any one actually to
enter the room ..."
“I have always insisted, Smith," I cried, “that
there was danger! What of poisoned darts ?
What of the damnable reptiles and insects which
form part of the armory of Fu-Manchu?”
“ Familiarity breeds contempt, I suppose," he re-
plied. “But as it happened none of those agents
was employed. The very menace that I sought to
avoid reached me somehow. It would almost seem
that Dr. Fu-Manchu deliberately accepted the chal-
lenge of those screwed-up windows! Hang it all,
e-


142 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Petrie! one cannot sleep in a room hermetically
sealed, in weather like this! It's positively Bur.
mese; and although I can stand tropical heat, curi-
ously enough the heat of London gets me down al
most immediately."
“The humidity; that's easily understood. But
you'll have to put up with it in the future. After
nightfall our windows must be closed entirely,
Smith."
Nayland Smith knocked out his pipe upon the side
of the fireplace. The bowl sizzled furiously, but
without delay he stuffed broad-cut mixture into the
hot pipe, dropping a liberal quantity upon the carpet
during the 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, " the resources of Dr. Fu-Manchu are by
no means exhausted. Before we quit this room it is
up to us to come to a decision upon a certain point."
He got his pipe well alight. “What kind of thing,
what unnatural, distorted creature, 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, just before the attack — by the creature's
coughing - by its vile, high-pitched coughing ..."
I glanced around at the books upon my shelves.
Often enough, following some outrage by the bril-
liant Chinese doctor whose genius was directed to
the discovery of new and unique death agents, we had
obtained a clue in those works of a scientific nature


THE COUGHING HORROR
143
л
which bulk largely in the library of a medicař nan.
There are creatures, there are drugs, which, ordinar-
ily innocuous, may be so employed as to become
inimical to human life; and in the distorting of na-
ture, in the disturbing of balances and the diverting
of beneficent forces into strange and dangerous chan-
nels, Dr. Fu-Manchu excelled. I had known hiny to
enlarge, by artificial culture, a minute species of
fungus so as to render it a powerful agent capable of
attacking man; his knowledge of venomous insects
has probably never been paralleled in the history of
the world; whilst, in the sphere of pure toxicology,
he had, and has, no rival; the Borgias were children
by comparison. But, look where I would, think how
I might, no adequate explanation of this latest out-
rage seemed possible along normal lines.
“There's the clue," said Nayland Smith, pointing
to a little ash-tray upon 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 sound of coughing; then came a
death grip on my throat, and instinctively my hands
shot out in search of my attacker. I could not reach
him; my hands came in contact with nothing palpable.
Therefore I clutched at the fingers which were dug
into my windpipe, and found them to be small — as
the marks show — and hairy. I managed to give
that first cry for help, then with all my strength I
tried to unfasten the grip that was throttling the life


144 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
out of me. At last I contrived to move one of the
hands, and I called out again, though not so loudly.
Then both the hands were back again; I was weakene
ing; but I clawed like a madman at the thin, hairy
arms of the strangling thing, and with a blood-red
mist dancing before my eyes, I seemed to be whirling
madly round and round until all became a blank.
Evidently I used my nails pretty freely — and there's
the trophy.”
For the twentieth time, I should think, I carried
the ash-tray in my hand and laid it immediately un-
der the table-lamp in order to examine its contents.
In the little brass bowl lay a blood-stained fragment
of grayish hair attached to a tatter of skin. This
fragment of epidermis had an odd bluish tinge, and
the attached hair was much darker at the roots than
elsewhere. Saving its singular color, it might have
been torn from the forearm of a very hirsute human;
but although my thoughts wandered unfettered,
north, south, east and west; although, knowing the
resources of Fu-Manchu, I considered all the recog-
nized Mongolian types, and, in quest of hirsute mans
kind, even roamed far north among the blubber-
eating Esquimo; although I glanced at Australasia,
at Central Africa, 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 suggested by our strange clue.


THE COUGHING HORROR
145
Nayland Smith was watching me curiously as I
bent over the little brass ash-tray.
“You are puzzled,” he rapped in his short way.
“ So am I - utterly puzzled. Fu-Manchu's gal-
lery of monstrosities clearly has become reinforced;
for even if we identified the type, we should not be in
sight of our explanation.”
“You mean," I began ...
“Fully four feet from the window, Petrie, and
that window but a few inches open! Look "- he
bent forward, resting his chest against the table, 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 the distance from the further edge of
the table to the tips of Smith's fingers.
“Twenty-eight inches — and I have a long
reach!" snapped Smith, withdrawing his arm and
striking a match to relight his pipe. “There's one
thing, Petrie, often proposed before, which now we
must do without delay. The ivy must be stripped
from the walls at the back. It's a pity, but we can-
not afford to sacrifice our lives to our sense of the
æsthetic. 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 a thick branch of ivy breaking
beneath the weight of a climber."
“ Did it sound like it?”


146 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“I must confess that the explanation does not con-
vince me, but I have no better 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 contin-
ued. “At first, when I realized that Dr. Fu-Man-
chu was back in England, when I realized that an
elaborate murder-machine was set up somewhere in
London, it seemed unreal, fantastical. Then I met
- Kâramanèh! She, whom we thought to be his
victim, showed herself again to be his slave. Now,
with Weymouth and Scotland Yard at work, the old
secret evil is established again in our midst, unac-
countably — our lives are menaced — sleep is a
danger - every shadow threatens death ... oh!
it is awful."
Smith remained silent; he did not seem to have
heard my words. I knew these moods and had
learnt that it was useless to seek to interrupt them.
With his brows drawn down, and his deep-set eyes
staring into space, he sat there gripping his cold pipe
so tightly that my own jaw muscles ached sympathet-
ically. No man was better equipped than this gaunt
British Commissioner to stand between society and
the menace of the Yellow Doctor; I respected his
meditations, for, unlike my own, they were informed
by an intimate knowledge of the dark and secret
things of the East, of that mysterious East out of
which Fu-Manchu came, of that jungle of noxious


THE COUGHING HORROR
147
things whose miasma had been wafted Westward
with the implacable Chinaman.
I walked quietly from the room, occupied with
my own bitter reflections.


CHAPTER XV
BEWITCHMENT
"VOU say you have two items of news for me?"
I said Nayland Smith, looking across the break-
fast table to where Inspector Weymouth sat sipping
coffee.
“There are two points — yes," replied the Scot-
land Yard man, whilst Smith paused, 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 in the East End."
“How can you be sure of that?"
“For two reasons. In the first place, that district
must now be too hot to hold Dr. Fu-Manchu; in the
second place, we have just completed a house-to-
house inquiry which has scarcely overlooked a rat-
hole or a rat. That place where you say Fu-
Manchu was visited by some Chinese mandarin;
where you, Mr. Smith,” and — glancing in my di-
rection —"you, Doctor, were confined for a time "
“Yes ?" snapped Smith, attacking his egg.
“Well,” continued the inspector, “it is all de-
serted, now. There is not the slightest doubt that
the Chinaman has fled to some other abode. I am
certain of it. My second piece of news will interest
you very much, I am sure. You were taken to the
148


BEWITCHMENT
149
establishment of the Chinaman, Shen-Yan, by a cer-
tain ex-officer of New York Police — Burke ..."
“Good God!” cried Smith, looking up with a
start; “ I thought they had him!”
“So did I,” replied Weymouth grimly;“ but they
haven't! He got away in the confusion following
the raid, and has been hiding ever since with a cousin
- a nurseryman out Upminster way ..."
“Hiding?" snapped Smith.
“ Exactly - hiding. He has been afraid to stir
ever since, and has scarcely shown his nose outside
the door. He says he is watched night and day.”
" Then how ..."
“He realized that something must be done,” con-
tinued the inspector, " and made a break this morn-
ing. He is so convinced of this constant surveillance
that he came away secretly, hidden under the boxes
of a market-wagon. He landed at Covent Garden
in the early hours of this morning 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 that he 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 Burke seems to think that you are
a more likely market than the police authorities."


150 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHO
“I see," snapped Smith. “He wants to see
me?"
“ He wants you to go and see him," was the reply.
“I think he anticipates that 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 short conversation one day,
over the fence which divides his cousin's flower plan-
tations from the lane adjoining."
"Gipsy girl!" I whispered, glancing rapidly at
Smith.
“I think you are right, Doctor," said Weymouth
with his slow smile; "it was Karamanèh. She
asked him the way to somewhere or other and got
him to write it upon a loose page of his notebook,
so that she should not forget it.”
“You hear that, Petrie ? ” rapped Smith.
“I hear it," I replied, “but I don't see any special
significance in the fact."
“I do!” rapped Smith; “I didn't sit up the
greater part of last night thrashing my weary brains
for nothing! But I am going to the British Museum
to-day, to confirm a certain suspicion.” He turned
to Weymouth. "Did Burke go back?” he de-
manded abruptly.
“He returned hidden under the empty boxes,"
was the reply. “Oh! you never saw a man in such
a funk in all your life!"
“He may have good reasons," I said.


BEWITCHMENT
151
“He has good reasons!" replied Nayland Smith
grimly; “if that man really possesses information
inimical to the safety of Fu-Manchu, he can only
escape doom by means of a miracle similar to that
which has hitherto protected you and me."
“Burke insists," said Weymouth at this point,
" that something comes almost every night after
dusk, slinking about the house — it's an old farm-
house, I understand; and on two or three occasions
he has been awakened (fortunately for him he is a
light sleeper) by sounds of coughing immediately
outside his window. He is a man who sleeps with a
pistol under his pillow, and more than once, on run-
ning to the window, he has had a vague glimpse of
some creature leaping down from the tiles of 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 Wey-
mouth, “because Burke seems to 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 would probably employ his hands as
well as his feet.”
“Quite so," agreed the 'inspector. “I am
merely reporting the impression of Burke."
“Has he heard no other sound?” rapped Smith;


152 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“one like the cracking of dry branches, for in-
stance?"
“ He made ne mention of it,” replied Weymouth,
staring.
“And what is the plan?”
“One of his cousin's vans,” said Weymouth, with
his slight smile, “has remained behind at Covent
Garden and will return late this afternoon. I pro-
pose that you and I, Mr. Smith, imitate Burke and
ride down to Upminster under the empty boxes!”
Nayland Smith stood up, leaving his breakfast
half finished, and began to wander up and down the
room, reflectively tugging at his ear. Then he be-
gan to fumble in the pockets of his dressing-gown
and finally produced the inevitable pipe, dilapidated
pouch, and box of safety matches. He began to
load the much-charred agent of reflection.
“Do I understand that Burke is actually too afraid
to go out openly even in daylight?” he asked sud-
denly.
“He has not hitherto left his cousin's plantations
at all," replied Weymouth. “He seems to think
that openly to communicate with the authorities, or
with you, would be to seal his death warrant."
“He's right," snapped Smith.
“Therefore he came and returned secretly," con-
tinued the inspector; “ and if we are to do any good,
obviously we must adopt similar precautions. The
snarket wagon, loaded in such a way as to leave


154 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
had been wearing a silk scarf about his throat and
now he unwrapped it —" did you ever see a water
rat that could make marks like these?"
Weymouth started to his feet with some muttered
exclamation.
“What is this ? ” he cried. “When did it hap.
pen, and how?"
In his own terse fashion, Nayland Smith related
the happenings of the night. At the conclusion of
the story:
“By heaven!” whispered Weymouth, “ the thing
on the roof — the coughing thing that goes on all
fours, seen by Burke ..."
“My own idea exactly!" cried Smith ....
“Fu-Manchu," I said excitedly, “has brought
some new, some dreadful creature, from Bur-
ma ...
“No, Petrie," snapped Smith, turning upon me
suddenly. “Not from Burma — from Abyssinia."
That day was destined to be an eventful one; a
day never to be forgotten by any of us concerned in
those happenings which I have to record. Early in
the morning Nayland Smith set off for the British
Museum to pursue his mysterious investigations, and
having performed my brief professional round
(for, as Nayland Smith had remarked on one occa.
sion, this was a beastly healthy district), I found,
having made the necessary arrangements, that, with
over three hours to spare, I had nothing to occupy


156 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
the glance of two other eyes -- the dark and beautic
ful eyes of Kâramanèh. In the exquisite tinting of
a Chinese vase dimly perceptible in the background
of the shop, I perceived only the blushing cheeks of
Kâramanèh; her face rose up, a taunting phantom,
from out of the darkness between a hideous, gilded
idol and an Indian sandalwood screen.
I strove to dispel this obsessing thought, reso-
lutely fixing my attention upon a tall Etruscan vase in
the corner of the window, near to the shop door.
Was I losing my senses indeed? A doubt of my
own sanity momentarily possessed me. For, strug-
gle as I would to dispel the illusion — 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 at-
tracted the notice of the passers-by; but of this I
cannot be certain, for all my attention was centered
upon that phantasmal face, with the cloudy hair,
slightly parted red lips, and the brilliant dark eyes
which looked into mine out of the shadows of the
shop.
It was bewildering - it was uncanny; for, delu-
sion or verity, the glamour prevailed. I exerted a
great mental effort, stepped to the door, turned the
handle, and entered the shop with as great a show of
composure as I could muster.
A curtain draped in a little door at the back of one
counter swayed slightly, with no greater violence
than may have been occasioned by the draught. But


BEWITCHMENT
157
I fixed my eyes upon this swaying curtain almost
fiercely ... as an impassive half-caste of some kind
who appeared to be a strange cross between a Græco-
Hebrew and a Japanese, entered and quite unemo-
tionally 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 second slight 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, rais-
ing his black eyebrows ever 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 other time.”
I turned and quitted the shop abruptly. Either
I was mad, or Kâramanèh was concealed somewhere
therein.
However, realizing my helplessness in the matter,
I contented myself with making a mental note of the
name which appeared above the establishment — J.
Salaman — and walked on, my mind in a chaotic con-
dition and my heart beating with unusual rapidity.


THE QUESTING HANDS
159
position. What information had Burke to sell ?
He had refused, for some reason, to discuss the mat-
ter that evening, and now, enacting the part allotted
him by Nayland Smith, he feigned sleep consistently,
although at intervals he would whisper to me his
doubts and fears.
All the chances were in our favor to-night; for
whilst I could not doubt that Dr. Fu-Manchu was set
upon the removal of the ex-officer of New York po-
lice, neither could I doubt that our presence in the
farm was unknown to the agents of the Chinaman.
According to Burke, constant attempts had been
made to achieve Fu-Manchu's purpose, and had only
been frustrated 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 as this will be familiar with
the marked changes (corresponding with phases of
the earth's movement) which take place in the at-
mosphere, at midnight, at two o'clock, and again
at four o'clock. During those fours hours falls a
period wherein all life is at its lowest ebb, and every
physician is aware that there is a greater likelihood
of a patient's passing between midnight and four
A. M., than at any other period during the cycle of
the hours.
To-night I became specially aware of this lowering
of vitality, and now, with the night at that darkest
phase which precedes the dawn, an indescribable


160 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
dread, such as I had known before in my dealings
with the Chinaman, assailed me, when I was least pre-
pared to combat it. The stillness was intense.
Then:
“ Here it is!" whispered Burke from the bed.
The chill at the very center of my being, which
but corresponded with the 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 shadows watched - watched intently, the
bright oblong of the window ...
Without the slightest heralding sound — a black
silhouette crept up against the pane ... the sil-
houette of a small, malformed head, a dog-like
head, deep-set in square shoulders. Malignant eyes
peered intently in. Higher it arose — that wicked
head - against the window, then crouched down on
the sill and became less sharply defined as the crea-
ture stooped to the opening below. There was a
faint sound of sniffing.
Judging from the stark horror which I experi-
enced, myself, I doubted, now, if Burke could sustain
the rôle allotted him. In beneath the slightly raised
window came a hand, perceptible to me despite the
darkness of the room. It seemed to project from
the black silhouette outside the pane, to be thrust
forward — and forward — and forward ... that
small hand with the outstretched fingers.
The unknown possesses unique terrors; and since I


THE QUESTING HANDS
161
was unable to conceive what manner of thing this
could be, which, extending its incredibly long arms,
now sought the throat of the man upon the bed, I
tasted of that sort 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 which had reached through the
window to kill the sleeper, I sprang across the room
and grasped the rigid, hairy forearms.
Heavens! Never have I felt such muscles, such
tendons, as those beneath the hirsute skin! They
seemed to be of steel wire, and with a sudden fright-
ful sense of impotence, I realized that I was as pow.
erless as a child to relax that strangle-hold. Burke
was making the most frightful sounds and quite ob-
viously 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 and below me. Twice the thing
at the window coughed; there was an incessant, lash-
like cracking, then some shouted words which I was
unable to make out; and finally the staccato report of
a pistol.
Snarling like that of a wild beast came from the
creature with the hairy arms, together with renewed
coughing. But the steel grip relaxed not one iota.
was


162 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
I realized two things: the first, that in my terror at
the suddenness of the attack I had omitted to act
as pre-arranged: the second, that I had discredited
the strength of the visitant, whilst Smith had fore-
seen it.
Desisting in my vain endeavor to pit my strength
against that of the nameless thing, I sprang back
across the room and took up the weapon which had
been left in my charge earlier in the night, but which
I had been unable to believe it would be necessary to
employ. This was a sharp and heavy axe, which
Nayland Smith, when I had met him in Covent Gar-
den, had brought with him, to the great amazement
of Weymouth and myself.
As I leaped back to the window and uplifted this
primitive weapon, a second shot sounded from below,
and more fierce snarling, coughing, and guttural mut-
terings assailed my ears from beyond the pane.
Lifting the heavy blade, I brought it down with
all my strength upon the nearer of those hairy arms
where it crossed the window-ledge, severing muscle,
tendon and bone as easily as a knife might cut
.cheese. ...
A shriek — a shriek neither human nor animal,
but gruesomely compounded of both — followed
... and merged into a choking cough. Like a
flash the other shaggy arm was withdrawn, and some
vaguely-seen body went rolling down the sloping red
tiles and crashed on to the ground beneath.
With a second piercing shriek, louder than that


THE QUESTING HANDS
163
recently uttered by Burke, wailing through the night
from somewhere below, I turned desperately to the
man on the bed, who now was become significantly
silent. A candle, with matches, stood upon a table
hard by, and, my fingers far from steady, I set about
obtaining a light. This accomplished, I stood the
candle upon the little chest-of-drawers and returned
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 the
dim candle-light. Burke lay crosswise on the bed,
his head thrown back and sagging; one rigid hand
he held in the air, and with the other grasped the
hairy forearm which I had severed with the ax; for,
in a death-grip, the dead fingers were still fastened,
vise-like, at his throat.
His face was nearly black, and his eyes projected
from their sockets horribly. Mastering my repug-
nance, I seized the hideous piece of bleeding anatomy
and strove to release it. It defied all my efforts; in
death 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 were sticking clammily to my body; I was
bathed in perspiration, and, shaking furiously, I
clutched at the edge of the window, avoiding the


164 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
01
bloody patch upon the ledge, and looked out over
the roofs to where, in the more distant plantations, I
could hear excited voices. What had been the mean-
ing of that scream which I had heard but to which in
my frantic state 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 are you?”
Footsteps came racing up the stairs. Behind me
the door burst open and Nayland 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 is it - what is it?"
“ Come downstairs," replied Smith quietly, “and
see for yourself.” He turned his head aside from
the bed.
Very unsteadily I followed him down the stairs
and through the rambling old house out into the
stone-paved courtyard. There were figures moving
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," whis-
pered Smith in my ear; “ don't tell him yet.”
I nodded, and we hurried up to join the group. I
found myself looking down at one of those thick-set
Burmans whom I always associated with Fu-Man-
chu's activities. He lay quite flat, face downward;
ver


166 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
shoulder. “Remember — he chose 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.
“Weymoạth has driven into Upminster,” he
snapped; "and the whole district will be scoured
before morning. They probably motored here, but
the sounds of the shots will have enabled whoever
was with the car to make good his escape. And —
exhausted from loss of blood, its capture is only a
matter of time, Petrie.”


CHAPTER XVII
ONE DAY IN RANGOON
N AYLAND SMITH returned from the tel.
TV ephone. Nearly twenty-four hours had
elapsed since the awful death of Burke.
“No news, Petrie,” he said, shortly. “It must
have crept into some inaccessible hole to die."
I glanced up from my notes. Smith settled into
the white cane armchair, and began to surround him-
self with clouds of aromatic smoke. I took up a
half-sheet of foolscap covered with penciled writing
in my friend's cramped characters, and transcribed
the following, in order to complete my account of
the latest Fu-Manchu outrage:
“The Amharûn, a Semitic tribe allied to the Fal-
ashas, who have been settled for many generations
in the southern province of Shoa (Abyssinia) have
been regarded as unclean and outcast, apparently
since the days of Menelek — son of Suleyman and
the Queen of Sheba — from whom they claim de-
scent. Apart from their custom of eating meat cut
from living beasts, they are accursed because of
their alleged association with the Cynocephalus ham.
. adryas (Sacred Baboon). I, myself, was taken to
a hut on the banks of the Hawash and shown a
creature . .. whose predominant trait was an un-
167


168 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
reasoning malignity toward ... and a ferocious
tenderness for the society of its furry brethren. Its
powers of scent were fully equal to those of a blood-
hound, whilst its abnormally long forearms 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 this note, “how you got in touch
with Fu-Manchu; how you learnt that he was not
dead, as we had supposed, but living - active.”
Nayland Smith stood up and fixed his steely eyes
upon me with an indefinable 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 should not?”.
“There is no real reason," said Smith; " or "-
staring at me very hard —“I hope there is no real
reason."
“What do you mean?".
“Well”— he grabbed up his pipe from the table
and began furiously to load it —“I blundered upon
the truth one day in Rangoon. I was walking out
of a house which I occupied there for a time, and as
I swung around the corner into the main street, I
ran into — literally ran into ..."
Again he hesitated oddly; then closed up his pouch
and tossed it into the cane chair. He struck a match.


ONE DAY IN RANGOON
169
“I ran into Kâramaneh," he continued abruptly,
and began to puff away at his pipe, filling the air with
clouds of tobacco smoke. '
I caught my breath. This was the reason why he
had kept me so long in ignorance of the story. He
knew of my hopeless, uncrushable sentiments toward
the gloriously beautiful but utterly hypocritical and
evil Eastern girl who was perhaps the most danger-
ous of all Dr. Fu-Manchu's servants; for the power
of her loveliness was magical, as I knew to my cost.
“What did you do?” I asked quietly, my fingers
drumming upon the table.
“Naturally enough," continued Smith, “ with a cry
of recognition I held out both my hands to her,
gladly. I welcomed her as a dear friend regained;
I thought of the joy with which you would learn that
I had found the missing one; I thought how you
would be in Rangoon just as quickly as the fastest
steamer could get you there ...
“ Well?"
“ Karamanèh started back and treated me to a
glance of absolute animosity. No recognition was
there, and no friendliness - only a sort of scornful
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


170 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
think. I simply picked her up without another word,
right there in the public street, and raced back 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 like a vicious wild animal.
Oh! I had some scars, I assure you; but I carried her
up into my office, which fortunately was empty at the
time, plumped her 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 implacable hatred in them! Remem-
bering all that we had done for her; remembering our
former friendship; above all, remembering you -
this look of hers almost made me shiver. She was
dressed very smartly in European fashion, and the
whole thing had been so sudden that as I stood look-
ing at her I half expected to wake up presently and
find it all a day-dream. But it was real — as real as
her enmity. I felt the need for reflection, and hav-
ing vainly endeavored to draw her into conversation,
and elicited no other answer than this glare of hatred
- I left her there, going out and locking the door
behind me."
“Very high-handed?”
“A commissioner has certain privileges, Petrie;
and any action I might choose to take was not likely
to be questioned. There was only one window to
the office, and it was fully twenty feet above the level;
it overlooked a narrow street off the main thorough-


ONE DAY IN RANGOON 171
fare (I think I have explained that the house stood
on a corner) so I did not fear her escaping. I had
an important engagement which I had been on my
way to fulfil when the encounter took place, and
now, with a word to my native servant — who
chanced to be downstairs — I hurried off.”
Smith's pipe had gone out as usual, and he pro-
ceeded to relight it, whilst, with my eyes lowered, I
continued to drum upon the table.
“This boy took her some tea later in the after-
noon," he continued," and apparently found her in a
more placid frame of mind. I returned immediately
after dusk, and he reported that when last he had
looked in, about half an hour earlier, she had been
seated in an armchair reading a newspaper (I may
mention that everything of value in the office was
securely locked up!) I was determined upon a cer-
tain course by this time, and I went slowly upstairs,
unlocked the door, and walked into the darkened
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 a flight — as you would
realize if you knew the place. The street, which
the window overlooked, was bounded by a blank
wall, on the opposite side, for thirty or forty yards
along; and as we had been having heavy rains, it was
full of glutinous mud. Furthermore, the boy whom
I had left in charge had been sitting in the doorway
e
vas


172 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHỤ
immediately below the office window watching for
my return ever since his last visit to the room
above ..."
"She must have bribed him," I said bitterly -
“or corrupted him with her infernal blandishments."
“I'll swear she did not,” rapped Smith decisively.
“I know my man, and I'll swear she did not. There
were no marke in the mud of the road to show that
a ladder had been placed there; moreover, nothing
of the kind could have been attempted whilst the
boy was sitting in the doorway; that was evident.
In short, she did not descend into the roadway and
did not 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 on to the roof. I convinced my-
self of that."
“But, my dear man!” I cried, “ you are eliminat-
ing every natural mode of egress! Nothing remains
but flight."
“I am aware, Petrie, that nothing remains but
flight; in other words I have never to this day under-
stood how she quitted the room. I only know that
she did.”
“And then?"
“I saw in this incredible escape the cunning hand
of Dr. Fu-Manchu — saw it at once. Peace was
ended; and I set to work along certain channels with-
out delay. In this manner I got on the track at last,
and learned, beyond the possibility of doubt, that the


ONE DAY IN RANGOON 173
Chinese doctor lived — nay! was actually 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," concluded Smith; " but to date the riddle
remains intact." He glanced at the clock. “I
have an appointment with Weymouth; therefore,
leaving you to the task of solving this problem which
thus far has defied my own efforts, I will get along."
He read a query in my glance.
“Oh! I shall not be late," he added; “I think I
may venture out alone on this occasion without per-
sonal danger."
Nayland Smith went upstairs to dress, leaving me
seated at my writing table, deep in thought. My
notes upon the renewed activity of Dr. Fu-Manchu
were stacked at my left hand, and, opening a new
writing block, I commenced to add to them particu-
lars of this surprising event in Rangoon which prop-
erly marked the opening of the Chinaman's second
campaign. Smith looked in at the door on his way
out, but seeing me thus engaged, did not disturb me.
I think I have made it sufficiently evident in these
records that my practice was not an extensive one,
and my hour for receiving patients arrived and
passed with only two professional interruptions.
My task concluded, I glanced at the clock, and
determined to devote the remainder of the evening
to a little private investigation of my own. From
Nayland Smith I had preserved the matter a secret,


CHAPTER XVIII
THE SILVER BUDDHA
M USEUM STREET certainly did not seem a
1 likely spot for Dr. Fu-Manchu to establish
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 won-
derful eyes of Kâramanèh, like the velvet midnight
of the Orient, had looked out at me.
As I paced slowly along the pavement toward
that lighted window, my heart was beating far from
normally, and I cursed the folly which, in spite of
all, refused to die, but lingered on, poisoning my
life. Comparative quiet reigned in Museum Street,
at no time a busy thoroughfare, and, excepting an-
other shop at the Museum end, commercial activities
had ceased there. The door of a block of residen-
tial chambers almost immediately opposite to the
shop which was my objective, threw out a beam of
light across the pavement, but not more than two or
three people 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
175


176 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
had seen before, and whose nationality defied con-
jecture, came out from the curtained doorway at the
back to greet me.
“Good evening, sir," he said monotonously, with
a slight inclination of the head; “is there anything
which you desire to inspect?”.
"I merely wish to take a look around," I replied.
“I have no particular item in view."
The shop man inclined his head again, swept a
yellow hand comprehensively about, as if to include
the entire stock, and seated himself on a chair behind
the counter.
I lighted a cigarette with such an air of non-
chalance as I could summon to the operation, and
began casually to inspect the varied objects of inter-
est loading the shelves and tables about me. I am
bound to confess that I retain no one definite impres-
sion of this tour. Vases I handled, statuettes, Egyp-
tian scarabs, bead necklaces, illuminated missals,
portfolios of old prints, jade ornaments, bronzes,
fragments of rare lace, early printed books, As-
syrian tablets, daggers, Roman rings, and a hundred
other curiosities, leisurely, and I trust with apparent
interest, yet without forming the slightest impres-
sion respecting any one of them.
Probably I employed myself in this way for half
an hour or more, and whilst my hands busied them-
selves among the stock of J. Salaman, my mind was
occupied entirely elsewhere. Furtively I was study-
ing the shopman himself, a human presentment of a


THE SILVER BUDDHA
177
Chinese idol; I was listening and watching; especially
I was watching the curtained doorway at the back
of the shop.
“We close at about this time, sir," the man inter-
rupted me, speaking in the emotionless, monotonous
voice which I had noted before.
I replaced upon the glass counter a little Sekhet
boat, carved in wood and highly colored, and glanced
up with a start. Truly my methods were amateur-
ish; I had learnt nothing; I was unlikely to learn any-
thing. I wondered how Nayland Smith would have
conducted such an inquiry, and I racked my brains
for some means of penetrating into the recesses of
the establishment. Indeed, I had been seeking such
a plan for the past half an hour, but my mind had
proved incapable of suggesting one.
Why I did not admit failure I cannot imagine, but,
instead, I began to tax my brains anew for some
means of gaining further time; and, as I looked
about the place, the shopman very patiently await-
ing my departure, I observed an open case at the
back of the counter. The three lower shelves were
empty, but upon the fourth shelf squatted a silver
Buddha.
“I should like to examine the silver image yon-
der," I said; “what price are you asking for it?”
" It is not for sale, sir," replied the man, with a
greater show of animation than he had yet exhibited.
“Not for sale! ” I said, my eyes ever seeking the
curtained doorway;" how's that? ”


178 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“ 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 sufficient to call for a sharp retort at any
other time, but now it excited the strangest 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 unusual powers
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 the shopman, 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 Kâramanèh was
concealed somewhere in the building ruled abso-
lutely, and a theory respecting this silver image had
taken possession of my mind. Exactly what I ex-
pected to happen at that moment I cannot say, but
what actually happened was far more startling than
anything I could have imagined.
At the instant that I grasped the figure I realized
that it was attached to the woodwork; in the next I
knew hat it was a handle ... as I tried to pull it
toward me I became aware that this handle was the
handle of a door. For that door swung open before
me, and I found myself at the foot of a flight of
heavily carpeted stairs.


THE SILVER BUDDHA
179
Anxious as I had been to proceed a moment be-
fore, I was now trebly anxious 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
CANNOT conceive that any ordinary mortal
I ever attained to anything like an intimacy with
Dr. Fu-Manchu; I cannot believe that any man could
ever grow used to his presence, could ever cease to
fear him. I suppose I had set eyes upon Fu-Manchu
some five or six times prior to this occasion, and
now he was dressed in the manner which I always as-
sociated with him, probably because it was thus I
first saw him. He wore a plain yellow robe, and,
with his pointed chin resting upon his bosom, he
looked down at me, revealing a great expanse of the
marvelous brow with its sparse, neutral-colored hair.
Never in my experience have I known such force
to dwell in the glance of any human eye as dwelt in
that of this uncanny being. His singular affliction
(if affliction it were), the film or slight membrane
which sometimes obscured the oblique eyes, was par
ticularly evident at the moment that I crossed the
threshold, but now, as I looked up at Dr. Fu-Man.
chu, it lifted - revealing the eyes in all their emerald
greenness.
The idea of physical attack upon this incredible
being seemed childish inadequate. But, follow-
180


182 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Now, the atmosphere surrounding me was Eastern,
but not of the East that I knew; rather it was Far
Eastern. Perhaps I do not make myself very clear,
but to me there was a mysterious significance in
that perfumed atmosphere. I opened my eyes.
I lay upon a long low settee, in a fairly large
room which was furnished as I had anticipated in an
absolutely Oriental fashion. The two windows were
so screened as to have lost, from the interior point
of view, all resemblance to European windows, and
the whole structure of the room had been altered in
conformity, bearing out my idea that the place had
been prepared for Fu-Manchu's reception some time
before his actual return. I doubt if, East or West,
a duplicate of that singular apartment could be
found.
The end in which I lay, was, as I have said, typical
of an Eastern house, and a large, ornate lantern
hung from the ceiling almost directly above me.
The further end of the room was occupied by tall
cases, some of them containing books, but the major-
ity filled with scientific paraphernalia; rows of flasks
and jars, frames of test-tubes, retorts, scales, and
other objects of the laboratory. At a large and
very finely carved table sat Dr. Fu-Manchu, a yellow
and faded volume open before him, and some dark
red fluid, almost like blood, bubbling in a test-tube
which he held over the flame of a Bunsen-burner.
The enormously long nail of his right index finger
rested upon the opened page of the book to which


DR. FU-MANCHU'S LABORATORY 183
he seemed constantly to refer, dividing his attention
between the volume, the contents of the test-tube, and
the progress of a second experiment, or possibly a
part of the same, which was taking place upon an-
other corner of the littered table.
A huge glass retort (the bulb was fully two feet
in diameter), fitted with 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,
shaped like a toadstool, but of a brilliant and venom-
ous orange color. Three flat tubes of light were so
arranged as to cast violet rays upward into the re-
tort, and the receiver, wherein condensed the product
of this strange experiment, contained some drops of
a red fluid which may have been 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 all else was for-
gotten.
“I regret," came the sibilant voice, “ that un-
pleasant measures were necessary, but hesitation
would have been fatal. I trust, Dr. Petrie, that you
suffer no inconvenience?”.
To this speech no reply was possible, and I at-
tempted none.
“You have long been aware of my esteem for
your acquirements," continued the Chinaman, his
voice occasionally touching deep guttural notes, " and
you will appreciate the pleasure which this visit af-


184 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
fords me. I kneel at the feet of my silver Buddha.
I look to you, when you shall have overcome your
prejudices — due to ignorance of my true motives
— to assist me in establishing that intellectual control
which is destined to be the new World Force. I
bear you no malice for your ancient enmity, and even
now "- he waved one yellow hand toward the re-
tort —“I am conducting an experiment designed to
convert you from your misunderstanding, and to ad-
just your perspective."
Quite unemotionally he spoke, then turned again
to his book, his test-tube and retort, in the most
matter-of-fact way imaginable. I do not think the
most frenzied outburst on his part, the most fiendish
threats, could have produced such effect upon me as
those cold and carefully calculated words, spoken in
that unique voice which rang about the room sibi.
lantly. In its tones, in the glance of the green eyes,
in the very pose of the gaunt, high-shouldered body,
there was power — force.
I counted myself lost, and in view of the doctor's
words, studied the progress of the experiment with
frightful interest. But a few moments sufficed in
which to realize that, for all my training, I knew
as little of chemistry — of chemistry as understood
by this man's genius — as a junior student in surgery
knows of trephining. The process in operation was
a complete mystery to me; the means and the end
alike incomprehensible.
Thus, in the heavy silence of that room, a silence


DR. FU-MANCHU'S LABORATORY 185
only broken by the regular bubbling from the test-
tube, I found my attention straying from the table to
the other objects surrounding it; and at one of them
my gaze stopped and remained chained with horror.
It was a glass jar, some five feet in height and
filled with viscous fluid of a light amber color. Out
from this peered a hideous, dog-like face, low
browed, with pointed ears and a nose almost hog-
gishly flat. By the death-grin of the face the gleam-
ing fangs were revealed; and the body, the long yel-
low-gray body, rested, or seemed to rest, upon short,
malformed legs, whilst one long limp arm, the right,
hung down straightly in the preservative. The left
arm had been severed above the elbow.
Fu-Manchu, finding his experiment to be proceed-
ing favorably, lifted his eyes to me again.
“You are interested in my poor Cynocephalyte?”
he said; and his eyes were filmed like the eyes of one
afflicted with cataract. “He was a devoted servant,
Dr. Petrie, but the lower influences in his genealogy
sometimes conquered. Then he got out of hand;
and at last he was so ungrateful toward those who
had educated him, that, in one of those paroxysms
of his, he attacked and killed a most faithful Bur.
man, one of my oldest followers.”
Fu-Manchu returned to his experiment.
Not the slightest emotion had he exhibited thus
far, but had chatted with me as any other scientist
might chat with a friend who casually visits his
laboratory. The horror of the thing was playing
Fu-MC of my old and killene of those


186 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
havoc with my own composure, however. There I
lay, fettered, in the same room with this man whose
existence was a menace to the entire white race,
whilst placidly he pursued an experiment designed,
if his own words were believable, to cut me off from
my kind — to wreak some change, psychological or
physiological I knew not; to place me, it might be,
upon a level with such brute-things as that which
now hung, half floating, in the glass jar!
Something I knew of the history of that ghastly
specimen, that thing neither man nor ape; for within
my own knowledge had it not attempted the life of
Nayland Smith, and was it not I who, with an ax,
had maimed it in the instant of one of its last slay-
ings?
Of these things Dr. Fu-Manchu was well aware,
so that his placid speech was doubly, trebly horrible
to my ears. I sought, furtively, to move my arms,
only to realize that, as I had anticipated, the hand-
cuffs were 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 the table, and, placing the test-tube
in a rack, stood the latter carefully upon a shelf at
his side.
“I am happy to find you in such good humor," he
said softly. “ Other affairs call me; and, in my
absence, that profound knowledge of chemistry, of
which I have had evidence in the past, will enable you


DR. FU-MANCHU'S LABORATORY 187
to follow with intelligent interest the action of these
violet rays upon this exceptionally fine specimen of
Siberian amanita muscaria. At some future time,
possibly when you are my guest in China — which
country I am now making arrangements for you to
visit — I shall discuss with you some lesser-known
properties of this species; and I may say that one of
your first tasks when you commence your duties as
assistant in my laboratory in Kiang-su, will be to con-
duct a series of twelve experiments, which I have out-
lined, into other potentialities of this unique fungus."
He walked quietly to a curtained doorway, with
his cat-like yet awkward gait, lifted the drapery, and,
with a slight nod in my direction, went out of the
room.


CHAPTER XX
The Cross Bar
L OW long I lay there alone I had no means of
1 computing. My mind was busy with many
matters, but principally concerned with my fate in
the immediate future. That Dr. Fu-Manchu en-
tertained for me a singular kind of regard, I had
had evidence before. He had formed the erroneous
opinion that I was an advanced scientist who could
be of use to him in his experiments and I was aware
that he cherished a project of transporting me to
some place in China where his principal laboratory
was situated. Respecting the means which he pro-
posed to employ, I was unlikely to forget that this
man, who had penetrated further along certain by.
ways of science than seemed humanly possible, un-
doubtedly was master of a process for producing arti-
ficial catalepsy. It was my lot, then, to be packed in
a chest (to all intents and purposes a dead man for
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 long and dreadful experi-
ence of the methods of Dr. Fu-Manchu; to think that
I had come alone in quest of him; that, leaving no
188


190 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
weird scientific appliances of the Chinaman; the ad.
vent of the gray object was accompanied by a fur-
ther rattling of keys.
My fear left me, and a mighty anxiety took its
place. This creature which now crouched chattering
at me from beneath the big table was Fu-Manchu's
marmoset, and in the intervals of its chattering and
grimacing, it nibbled, speculatively, at the keys upon
the ring which it clutched in its tiny hands. Key
after key it sampled in this manner, evincing a grow-
ing dissatisfaction with the uncrackable nature of its
find.
One of those keys might be that of the handcuffs!
I could not believe that the tortures of Tantulus
were greater than were mine at this moment. In
all my hopes of rescue or release, I had included
nothing so strange, so improbable as this. A sort
of awe possessed me; for if by this means the key
which should release me should come into my posses-
sion, how, ever again, could I doubt a beneficent
Providence ?
But they were not yet in my possession; more-
over, the key of the handcuffs 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 the matter out of my hands. Toss-
ing the ring with its jangling contents a yard or so
across the carpet in my direction, it leaped in pursuit,


THE CROSS BAR
191
picked up the ring, whirled it over its head, and then
threw a complete somersault around it. Now it
snatched up the keys again, and holding them close
to its ear, rattled them furiously. Finally, with an
incredible spring, it leaped onto the chain supporting
the lamp above my head, and with the garish shade
swinging and spinning wildly, clung there looking
down at me like an acrobat on a trapeze. The tiny,
bluish face, completely framed in grotesque whisk-
ers, enhanced the illusion of an acrobatic comedian.
Never for a moment did it release its hold upon the
key-ring.
My suspense now was intolerable. I feared to
move, lest, alarming the marmoset, it should run off
again, taking the keys with it. So as I lay there,
looking up at the little creature swinging above me,
the second wonder of the night came to pass.
A voice that I could never forget, strive how I
would, a voice that haunted my dreams by night,
and for which by day I was ever listening, cried out
from some adjoining room.
“Ta'ala hina!” it called. “Tdala hina, Peko!”
It was Karamanèh!
The effect upon the marmoset was instantaneous.
Down came the bunch of keys upon one side of the
chade, almost falling on my head, and down leaped
the ape upon the other. In two leaps it had tra-
versed the room and had vanished through the cur-
tained doorway.
If ever I had need of coolness it was now; the


192 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
slightest mistake would be fatal. The keys had
slipped from the mattress of the divan, and now lay
just beyond reach of my fingers. Rapidly I changed
my position, and sought, 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, Karamanèh came through the doorway,
holding the marmoset in her arms. She wore a dress
of fragile muslin material, 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, and with 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 act all my hopes had been shat-
tered!
Any poor lingering doubt that I may have had,
left me now. Had the slightest spark of friendship
animated the bosom of Kâramanèh, most certainly
she would have overlooked the presence of the keys
- of the keys which represented my one hope of
escape from the clutches of the fiendish Chinaman.
There is a silence more eloquent than words.
For half a minute or more, Kâramanèh stood watch-
ing me — forcing herself to watch me — and I
looked up at her with a concentrated gaze in which


THE CROSS BAR
193
ne
rage and reproach must have been strangely mingled.
What eyes she had! — of that blackly lustrous
sort nearly always associated with unusually dark
complexions; but Kâramanèh's complexion wali
peachlike, or rather of an exquisite and delicate faire
ness which reminded me of the petal of a rose. By
some I have been accused of raving about this girl's
beauty, but only by those who had not met her; for
indeed she was astonishingly lovely.
At last her eyes fell, the long lashes drooped upon
her cheeks. She turned and walked slowly to the
chair in which Fu-Manchu had sat. Placing the
keys upon the table amid the scientific litter, she
rested one dimpled elbow upon the yellow page of
the book, and with her chin in her palm, again di-
rected 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 not believe, even now, that
she was false! My state was truly a pitiable one, I
could have cried out in sheer anguish. With her
long lashes partly lowered, she watched me awhile,
then spoke; and her voice was music which seemed
to mock me; every inflection of that elusive accent
reopened, lancet-like, the ancient wound.
“Why do you look at me so ? ” she said, almost
in a whisper. “By what right do you reproach me?
- Have you ever offered me friendship, that I
should repay you with friendship? When first you
came to the house where I was, by the river — came


194 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
to save some one from " (there was the familiar hesi
tation which always preceded the name of Fu-Mane
chu) “ from — him, you treated me as your enemy,
although I would have been your friend ..."
There was appeal in the soft voice, but I laughed
mockingly, and threw myself back upon the divan.
Karamanèh stretched out her hands toward me, and
I shall never forget the expression which flashed
into those glorious eyes; but, seeing me intolerant
of her appeal, she drew back and quickly turned her
head aside. Even in this hour of extremity, of im-
potent wrath, I could find no contempt in my heart
for her feeble hypocrisy; with all the old wonder I
watched that exquisite profile, and Kâramanèh's very
deceitfulness was a salve — for had she not cared
she would not have attempted 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 my friendship, but because I
cannot bear you to think of me as you do, I will
prove that I am not the hypocrite and the liar you
think me. You will not trust me, but I will trust
you."
I looked up into her eyes, and knew a pagan joy
when they faltered before 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 in.
toxicate me. The lock clicked . . . and I was free.


THE CROSS BAR
195
Kâramanèh rose swiftly to her feet as I stood up
and outstretched my cramped arms. For one deliri.
ous moment her bewitching face was close to mine,
and the dictates of madness almost ruled; but I
clenched my teeth and turned sharply aside. I could
not trust myself to speak.
With Fu-Manchu's marmoset again gamboling be-
fore us, she walked through the curtained doorway
into the room beyond. It was in darkness, but I
could see the slave-girl in front of me, a slim sil.
houette, as she walked to a screened window, and,
opening the screen in the manner of a folding door,
also threw up the window.
“Look!” she whispered.
I crept forward and stood beside her. I found
myself looking down into Museum Street from a
first-floor window! Belated traffic still passed along
New Oxford Street on the left, but not a solitary
figure was visible to the right, as far as I could see,
and that was nearly to the railings of the Museum.
Immediately opposite, in one of the flats which I had
noticed earlier in the evening, another window was
opened. I turned, and in the reflected light saw that
Kâramanèh held a cord in her hand. Our eyes met
in the semi-darkness.
She began to haul the cord into the window, and,
looking upward, I perceived that it was looped in
some way over the telegraph cables which crossed
the street at that point. It was a slender cord, and
it appeared to be passed across a joint in the cables


196 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
almost immediately above the center of the roadway.
As it was hauled in, a second and stronger line ats
tached to it was pulled, in turn, over the cables, and
thence in by the window. Kâramaneh twisted a
length of it around a metal bracket fastened 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 out and looking to right and left,
“then swing across. The length of the rope is just
sufficient to enable you to swing through the open
window opposite, and there is a mattress inside to
drop upon. But release the bar immediately, or you
may be dragged back. The door of the room in
which you will find yourself is unlocked, and you have
only to walk down the stairs and out into the street."
I peered at the crossbar in my hand, then looked
hard at the girl beside me. I missed something of
the old fire of her nature; she was very subdued, to-
night.
“ Thank you, Karamanèh," I said, softly.
She suppressed a little cry as I spoke her name,
and drew back into the shadows.
“I believe you are my friend," I said, “but I
cannot understand. Won't you help me to under-
stand?"
I took her unresisting hand, and drew her toward
me. My very soul seemed to thrill at the contact
of her lithe body...
She was trembling wildly and seemed to be trying
to speak, but although her lips framed the words no


THE CROSS BAR
197
sound followed. Suddenly comprehension came to
me. I looked down into the street, hitherto deserted
... and into the upturned face of Fu-Manchu.
Wearing a heavy fur-collared coat, and with his
yellow, malignant countenance grotesquely horrible
beneath the shade of a large tweed motor cap, he
stood motionless, looking up at me. That he had
seen me, I could not doubt; but had he seen my com-
panion ?
In a choking whisper Kâramanèh answered my un-
spoken question.
“He has not seen me! I have done much for
you; do in return a small thing for me. Save my
life!"
She dragged me back from the window and fled
across the room to the weird laboratory where I had
lain captive. Throwing herself upon the divan, she
held out her white wrists and glanced significantly at
the manacles.
“Lock them upon mel” she said, rapidly.
" Quick! quick!”
Great as was my mental disturbance, I managed
to grasp the purpose of this device. The very ex-
tremity of my danger found me cool. I fastened
the manacles, which so recently had confined my own
wrists, upon the slim wrists of Kâramaneh. A faint
and muffled disturbance, doubly ominous because
there was nothing to proclaim its nature, reached me
from some place below, on the ground floor.
“ Tie something around my mouth!” directed


198 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Kâramanèh with nervous rapidity. 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 hem of the skirt. The voice of Dr.
Fu-Manchu became audible. He was speaking rap-
idly, sibilantly, and evidently was approaching -
woud be upon me in a matter of moments. I fas-
tened the strip of fabric over the girl's mouth and
tied it behind, experiencing a pang half pleasurable
and half fearful as I found my hands in contact with
the foamy luxuriance of her hair.
Dr. Fu-Manchu was entering the room immedi-
ately beyond.
Snatching up the bunch of keys, I turned and ran,
for in another instant my retreat would be cut off.
As I burst once more into the darkened room I be-
came aware that a door on the further side of it was
open; and framed in the opening was the tall, high-
shouldered figure of the Chinaman, still enveloped in
his fur coat and wearing the grotesque cap. As I
saw him, so he perceived me; and as I sprang to the
window, he advanced.
I turned desperately and hurled the bunch of keys
with all my force into the dimly-seen face ...
Either because they possessed a chatoyant quality
of their own (as I had often suspected), or by reason
of the light reflected through the open window, the
green eyes gleamed upon me vividly like those of a
giant cat. One short guttural exclamation paid


THE CROSS BAR
199
tribute to the accuracy of my aim; then I had the
crossbar in my hand. I threw one leg across the
sill, and dire as was my extremity, hesitated for an
instant ere trusting myself to the flight ...
A vise-like grip fastened upon my left ankle.
Hazily I became aware that the dark room was
become flooded with figures. The whole yellow
gang were upon me — the entire murder-group com-
posed of units recruited from the darkest place of
the East !
I have never counted myself a man of resource,
and have always envied Nayland Smith his posses-
sion of that quality, in him extraordinarily devel-
oped; but on this occasion the gods were kind to me,
and I resorted to the only device, perhaps, which
could have saved me. Without releasing my hold
upon the crossbar, I clutched at the ledge with the
fingers of both hands and swung back into the room
my right leg, which was already across the sill.
With all my strength I kicked out. My heel came in
contact, in sickening contact, with a human head;
beyond doubt I had split the skull of the man who
held me.
The grip upon my ankle was released automatic-
ally; and now consigning all my weight to the rope I
slipped forward, as a diver, across the broad ledge
and found myself sweeping through the night like a
winged thing ....
The line, as Kâramanèh had assured me, was of
well-judged length. Down I swept to within six or


200 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
1 SUCCE
leas
seven feet of the street level, then up, at ever des
creasing speed, toward the vague oblong of the open
window beyond.
I hope I have been successful, in some measure, in
portraying the varied emotions which it was my lot
to experience that night, and it may well seem that
nothing more exquisite could remain for me. Yet
it was written otherwise; for as I swept up to my
goal, describing the inevitable arc which I had no
power to check, I saw that one awaited me.
Crouching forward half out of the open window
was a Burmese dacoit, a cross-eyed, leering being
whom I well remembered to have encountered two
years before in my dealings with Dr. Fu-Manchu.
One bare, sinewy arm held rigidly at right angles be-
fore his breast, he clutched a long curved knife and
waited — waited for the critical moment when my
throat should be at his mercy!
I have said that a strange coolness had come to
my aid; even now it did not fail me, and so incal-
culably rapid are the workings of the human mind
that I remember complimenting myself upon an
achievement which Smith himself could not have bzt-
tered, and this in the immeasurable interval which in-
tervened between the commencement of my upward
swing and my arrival on a level with the window.
I threw my body back and thrust my feet forward.
As my legs went through the opening, an acute pain
in one calf told me that I was not to escape scathe-
less from the night's mêlée. But the dacoit went


202 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
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 Oxford Street. I turned to see
two policemen bearing down upon me!
This was a time for quick decisions and prompt
action. I weighed all the circumstances in the bal-
ance, and made the last vital choice of the night; I
turned and ran toward the British Museum as though
the worst of Fu-Manchu's creatures, and not my al-
lies the police, were at my heels!
No one else was in sight, but, as I whirled into the
Square, the red lamp of a slowly retreating taxi be-
came visible some hundred yards to the left. My
leg was paining me greatly, but the nature of the
wound did not interfere with my progress; therefore
I continued my headlong career, and ere the police
had reached the end of Museum Street I had my
hand upon the door handle of the cab – for, the
Fates being persistently kind 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 dropped back panting upon the cushions,
we were speeding westward toward the house of the
famous pathologist, thereby throwing the police
hopelessly off the track.
Faintly to my ears came the purr of a police


THE CROSS BAR
203
whistle. The taxi-man evidently did not hear the
significant sound. Merciful Providence had rung
down the curtain; for to-night my rôle in the yellow
drama was finished.


206 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
whereas we had not hoped to gain Saul before sun-
set, as a matter of fact, the autumn afternoon was
in its most glorious phase as we left the little village
with its oldtime hostelry behind us and set out in an
easterly direction, with the Bristol Channel far away
on our left and a gently sloping upland on our right.
The crooked high-street practically constituted the
entire hamlet of Saul, and the inn, “The Wagon-
ers," was the last house in the street. Now, as we
followed the ribbon of moor-path to the top of the
rise, we could stand and look back upon the way we
had come; and although we had covered fully a mile
of ground, it was possible to detect the sunlight
gleaming now and then upon the gilt lettering of the
inn sign as it swayed in the breeze. The day had
been unpleasantly warm, but was relieved by this
same sea breeze, which, although but slight, had in
it the tang of the broad Atlantic. Behind us, then,
the foot-path sloped down to Saul, unpeopled by any
living thing; east and northeast swelled the monot-
ony of the moor right out to the hazy distance
where the sky began and the sea remotely lay hidden;
west fell the gentle gradient from the top of the slope
which we had mounted, and here, as far as the eye
could reach, the country had an appearance sugges-
tive of a huge and dried-up lake. This idea was
borne out by an odd blotchiness, for sometimes there
would be half a mile or more of seeming moorland,
then a sharply defined change (or it seemed sharply
defined from that bird's-eye point of view). A


CRAGMIRE TOWER
207
vivid greenness marked these changes, which merged
into a dun-colored smudge and again into the bril-
liant green; then the moor would begin once more.
“That will be the Tor of Glastonbury, I suppose,”
said Smith, suddenly peering 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 for which we were bound;
one of those round towers, more common in Ireland,
which some authorities have declared to be of
Phænician origin. Ramshackle buildings clustered
untidily about its base, and to it a sort of tongue of
that oddly venomous green which patched the low-
lands, shot out and seemed almost to reach the tower-
base. The land for miles around was as flat as the
palm of my hand, saving certain hummocks, lesser
tors, and irregular piles of boulders which dotted its
expanse. Hills and uplands there were in the hazy
distance, forming a sort of mighty inland bay which
I doubted not in some past age had been covered by
the sea. Even in the brilliant sunlight the place had
something of a mournful aspect, looking like a great
dried-up pool into which the children of giants had
carelessly cast stones.
We met no living soul upon the moor. With
Cragmire Tower but a quarter of a mile off, Smith
paused again, and raising his powerful glasses swept
the visible landscape.
“Not a sign. Petrie,” he said, softly; “yet ..."
S


208 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
Dropping the glasses back into their case, my com.
panion began to tug at his left ear.
“Have we been over-confident?" he said, nar-
rowing his eyes in speculative fashion. “No less
than three times I have had the idea that something,
or some one, has just dropped out of sight, behind
me, as I focused ..."
“ What do you mean, Smith ?”
“Are we "— he glanced about him as though the
vastness were peopled with listening Chinamen
“ followed?"
Silently we looked into one another's eyes, each
seeking for the dread which neither had named.
Then:
“ Come on, Petrie!” said Smith, grasping my
arm; and at quick march we were off again.
Cragmire Tower stood upon a very slight emi-
nence, and what had looked like a green tongue, from
the moorland slopes above, was in fact a creek,
flanked by lush land, which here found its way to the
sea. The house which we were come to visit con-
sisted in a low, two-story building, joining the an-
cient tower on the east with two smaller outbuildings.
There was a miniature kitchen-garden, and a few
stunted fruit trees in the northwest corner; the whole
being surrounded by a gray stone wall.
The shadow of the tower fell sharply across the
path, which ran up almost alongside of it. We were
both extremely warm by reason of our long and
rapid walk on that hot day, and this shade should


CRAGMIRE TOWER
209
have been grateful to us. In short, I find it difficult
to account for the unwelcome chill which I experi.
enced at the moment that I found myself at the foot
of the time-worn monument. I know that we both
pulled up sharply and looked at one another as
though acted upon by some mutual disturbance.
But not a sound broke the stillness save a remote
murmuring, until a solitary sea gull rose in the air
and circled directly over the tower, uttering its
mournful and unmusical cry. Automatically to my
mind sprang the 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 human activity and no dog barked.
Nayland Smith drew a long breath, glanced back
along the way we had come, then went on, following
the wall, I beside him, until we came to the gate. It
was unfastened, and we walked up the stone path
through a wilderness of weeds. Four windows of
the house were visible, two on the ground floor and
two above. Those on the ground floor were heavily
boarded up, those above, though glazed, boasted
neither blinds nor curtains. Cragmire Tower
showed not the slightest evidence of tenancy.
We mounted three steps and stood before a tre-
mendously massive oaken door. An iron bell-pull,


210 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
mo
ancient and rusty, hung on the right of the door, and
Smith, giving me an odd glance, seized the ring and
tugged it.
From somewhere within the building answered a
mournful clangor, a cracked and toneless jangle,
which, seeming to echo through empty apartments,
sought and found an exit apparently by way of one
of the openings in the round tower; for it was from
above our heads that the noise came to us.
It died away, that eerie ringing - that clanging
so dismal that it could chill my heart even then with
the bright sunlight streaming down out of the blue;
it awoke no other response than the mournful cry of
the sea gull circling over our heads. Silence fell.
We looked at one another, and we were both about
to express a mutual doubt, when, unheralded by any
unfastening of bolts or bars, the oaken door was
opened, and a huge mulatto, dressed in white, stood
there regarding us.
I started nervously, for the apparition was so un-
expected, but Nayland Smith, 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 on important business," he directed,
authoritatively.
The mulatto bowed and retired. His white fig.
ure seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness
within, for beyond the patch of uncarpeted floor re-
vealed by the peeping sunlight, was a barn-like place
of densest shadow. I was about to speak, but Smith


CRAGMIRE TOWER
211
laid his hand upon my arm warningly, as, out from
the shadows the mulatto returned. He stood on the
right of the door and bowed again.
“ Be pleased to enter," he said, in his harsh, negro
voice. “Mr. Van Roon will see you."
The gladness of the sun could no longer stir me;
a chill and sense of foreboding bore me company, as
beside Nayland Smith I entered Cragmire Tower,


CHAPTER XXII
THE MULATTO
THE room in which Van Roon received us was
I roughly of the shape of an old-fashioned key-
hole; one end of it occupied the base of the tower,
upon which the remainder had evidently been built.
In many respects it was a singular room, but the
feature which caused me the greatest amazement
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 " pat-
tern, to furnish the entire illumination of the apart-
ment. That bookshelves lined the rectangular por-
tion of this strange study I divined, although that end
of the place was dark as a catacomb. The walls
were wood-paneled, and the ceiling was oaken
beamed. A small bookshelf and tumble-down
cabinet stood upon either side of the table, and the
celebrated American author and traveler lay propped
up in a long split-cane chair. He wore smoked
glasses, and had a clean-shaven, olive face, with a
profusion of jet black hair. He was garbed in a
dirty red dressing-gown, and a perfect fog of cigar
smoke hung in the room. He did not rise to greet
212


THE MULATTO
213
us, but merely extended his right hand, between two
fingers whereof he held Smith's card.
"You will excuse the seeming discourtesy of an
invalid, gentlemen ?” he said; “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 stood near the table. Smith and
I seated ourselves, and my friend, leaning his elbow
upon the table, looked fixedly at the face of the man
whom we had come from London to visit. Al-
though comparatively unfamiliar to the British pub-
lic, the name of Van Roon was well-known in Ameri-
can literary circles; for he enjoyed in the United
States a reputation somewhat similar 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 the haunts of
the fabled mahatmas in the Himalayas, and Van
Roon who had essayed to explore the fever swamps
of Yucatan in quest of the secret of lost Atlantis;
lastly, it was Van Roon, who, with an overland car
specially built for him by a celebrated American
firm, had undertaken the journey across China.
I studied the olive face with curiosity. Its natural
impassivity was so greatly increased by the presence
of the colored spectacles that my study was as profit-
less as if I had scrutinized the face of a carven
Buddha. The mulatto had withdrawn, and in an
atmosphere of gloom and tobacco smoke, Smith and


214 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
I sat staring, perhaps rather rudely, at the object of
our visit to the West Country.
“Mr. Van Roon," began my friend abruptly,
"you will no doubt have seen this paragraph. It
appeared in this morning's Daily Telegraph.”
He stood up, and taking out the cutting from his
notebook, placed it on the table.
“I have seen this — yes," said Van Roon, re.
vealing a row of even, white teeth in a rapid smile.
“ Is it to this paragraph that I owe the pleasure of
seeing you here?”
“The paragraph appeared in this morning's is-
sue," replied Smith. “An hour from the time of
seeing it, my friend, Dr. Petrie, and I were entrained
for Bridgewater."
“Your visit delights me, gentlemen, and I should
be ungrateful to question its cause; but frankly I am
at a loss to understand why you should have honored
me thus. I am a poor host, God knows; for what
with my tortured limb, a legacy from the Chinese
devils whose secrets I surprised, and my semi-blind-
ness, due to the same cause, I am but sorry com-
pany."
Nayland Smith held up his right hand deprecat-
ingly. Van Roon tendered a box of cigars and
clapped his hands, whereupon the mulatto entered.
“I see that you have a story to tell me, Mr.
Smith," he said; “therefore I suggest whisky-and-
soda — or you might prefer tea, as it is nearly tea
time?"


216 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
statement because I am all too painfully aware of the
existence of such a group as you mention, in China,
but that they had an agent here in England is some-
thing I had never conjectured. In seeking out this
solitary residence I have unwittingly done much to
assist their designs . . . But — my dear Mr. Smith,
I am very remiss! Of course you will remain to
night, 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 your own interests I think it will be
best to do as you are good enough to suggest. I
hope and believe that our arrival here has not been
noticed by the enemy; therefore it will be well if we
remain concealed as much as possible for the pres-
ent, until we have settled upon some plan.”
“Hagar shall go to the station for your baggage,”
said the American rapidly, and clapped his hands, his
usual signal to the mulatto.
Whilst the latter was receiving his orders I no-
ticed Nayland Smith watching 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?”


THE MULATTO
217
5Actually, in St. Kitts."
“H'm," muttered Smith, and automatically he
took out and began to fill his pipe.
“I can offer you no company but my own, gentle-
men," continued Van Roon, “but unless it inter-
feres with your plans, you may find the surrounding
district of interest and worthy of inspection, between
now and dinner time. By the way, I think I car.
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 ap-
prehend some attempt upon me?"
“At any moment!”
“To one in my crippled condition, an alarming
outlook! However, I place myself unreservedly in
your hands. But really, you must not leave this in-
teresting district before you have made the acquaint-
ance of some of its historical spots. To me, steeped
as I am in what I may term the lore of the odd, it is
a veritable wonderland, almost as interesting, in its
way, as the caves and jungles of Hindustan depicted
by Madame Blavatsky."
His high-pitched voice, with a certain labored in-
tonation, not quite so characteristically American as
was his accent, rose even higher; he spoke with the
fire of the enthusiast.
“When I learned that Cragmire Tower was
vacant,” he continued, “I leaped at the chance (ex-


218 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
cuse the metaphor, from a lame man!). This is a
ghost hunter's paradise. The tower itself is of un-
known origin, though probably Phænician, and the
house traditionally sheltered Dr. Macleod, the nec-
romancer, after his fight from the persecution
of James of Scotland. Then, to add to its interest,
it borders on Sedgemoor, the scene of the bloody
battle during the Monmouth rising, whereat a thou-
sand were slain on the field. It is a local legend that
the unhappy Duke and his staff may be seen, on
stormy nights, crossing the path which skirts the mire,
after which this building is named, with flaming
torches held aloft.”
“Merely marsh-lights, I take it?" interjected
Smith, gripping his pipe hard between his teeth.
“Your practical mind naturally seeks a practical
explanation," smiled Van Roon, “but I myself have
other theories. Then in addition to the charms of
Sedgemoor -- haunted Sedgemoor - on a fine day
it is quite possible to see the ruins of Glastonbury
Abbey from here; and Glastonbury Abbey, as you
may know, is closely bound up with the history of
alchemy. It was in the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey
that the adept Kelly, companion of Dr. Dee, dis-
covered, in the reign of Elizabeth, the famous caskets
of St. Dunstan, containing the two tinctures ..."
So he ran on, enumerating the odd charms of his
residence, charms which for my part I did not find
appealing. Finally:
“We cannot presume further upon your kind-


THE MULATTO
219.
ness," said Nayland Smith, standing up. “No doubt
we can amuse ourselves in the neighborhood of the
house until the return of your servant."
“Look upon Cragmire Tower as your own, gen-
tlemen! ” cried Van Roon. “Most of the rooms
are unfurnished, and the garden is a wilderness, but
the structure of the brickwork in the tower may in-
terest you archæologically, and the view across the
moor is at least as fine as any in the neighborhood."
So, with his brilliant smile and a gesture of one
thin yellow hand, the crippled traveler made us free
of his odd dwelling. As I passed out from the
room close at Smith's heels, I glanced back, I cannot
say why. Van Roon already was bending over his
papers, in his green shadowed sanctuary, and the
light shining down upon his smoked glasses created
the odd illusion that he was looking over the tops of
the lenses and not down at the table as his attitude
suggested. However, it was probably ascribable to
the weird chiaroscuro of the scene, although it gave
the seated figure an oddly malignant appearance, and
I passed out through the utter darkness of the outer
room to the front door. Smith opening it, I was
conscious of surprise to find dusk come to meet
darkness where I had looked for sunlight.
The silver wisps which had raced along the hori-
zon, as we came to Cragmire Tower, had veen har-
bingers of other and heavier banks. A stormy sun-
set smeared crimson streaks across the skyline, where
a great range of clouds, like the oily smoke of a city


220 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
burning, was banked, mountain topping mountain,
and lighted from below by this angry red. As we
came down the steps and out by the gate, I turned
and looked across the moor behind us. A sort of
reflection from this distant blaze encrimsoned the
whole landscape. The inland bay glowed sullenly,
as if internal fires and 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 tower in a curious, speculative fashion.
Under the influence of our host's conversation I had
forgotten the reasonless dread which had touched me
at the moment of our arrival, but now, with the red
light blazing over Sedgemoor, as if in memory of
the blood which had been shed there, and with the
tower of unknown origin looming above me, I be-
came very uncomfortable again, nor did I envy Van
Roon his eerie residence. The proximity of a tower
of any kind, at night, makes in some inexplicable way
for awe, and to-night there were other agents, too.
“What's that?” snapped Smith suddenly, grasp-
ing my arm.
He was peering southward, toward the distant
hamlet, and, starting violently at his words and the
sudden grasp of his hand, I, too, stared in that
direction.
“We were followed, Petrie," he almost whis-
pered. “I never got a sight of our follower, but
I'll swear we were followed. Look! there's some-
thing moving over yonder!"


THE MULATTO
221
Together we stood staring into the dusk; then
Smith burst abruptly into one of his rare laughs, and
clapped me upon the shoulder.
" It's Hagar, the mulatto !” he cried —"and our
grips. That extraordinary American with his tales
of witch-lights and haunted abbeys has been playing
the devil with our nerves."
Together we waited by the gate until the half-
caste appeared on the bend of the path with a grip
in either hand. He was a great, muscular fellow
with a stoic face, and, for the purpose of visiting
Saul, presumably, he had doffed his white rai-
ment and now wore a sort of livery, with a peaked
cap.
Smith watched him enter the house. Then:
"I wonder where Van Roon obtains his provi-
sions and so forth," he muttered. “It's odd they
knew nothing about the new tenant of Cragmire
Tower at 'The Wagoners.'"
There came a sort of sudden expectancy into his
manner for which I found myself at a loss to account.
He turned his gaze inland and stood there tugging at
his left ear and clicking his teeth together. He
stared at me, and his eyes looked very bright in
the dusk, for a sort of red glow from the sunset
touched them; but he spoke' no word, merely taking
my arm 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 Tower
again; then:


THE MULATTO
223
childish panic came fluttering about my heart, a dread
of entering the room, of allowing the mulatto to
come behind me.
Doubtless this was no more than a sub-conscious
product of my observations respecting his abnormal
breadth of shoulder. But whatever the origin of
the impulse, I found myself unable to disobey it.
Therefore, I merely nodded, turned on my heel and
went back to Smith's room.
I closed the door, then turned to face Smith, who
stood regarding me.
" Smith," I said, “ that man sends cold water trick.
ling 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 of the man
myself. The fact that he has been in Van Roon's
employ for some years goes for nothing. We are
neither of us likely to forget Kwee, the Chinese serv-
ant of Sir Lionel Barton, and it is quite possible that
Fu-Manchu has corrupted this man as he corrupted
the other. It is quite possible ..."
His voice trailed off into silence, and he stood look.
ing across the room with unseeing eyes, meditating
deeply. It was quite dark now outside, as I could
see through the uncurtained window, which opened
upon the dreary expanse stretching out to haunted
Sedgemoor. Two candles were burning upon the


224 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
dressing table; they were but recently lighted, and so
intense was the stillness that I could distinctly hear
the spluttering of one of the wicks, which was damp.
Without giving the slightest warning of his intention,
Smith suddenly made two strides forward, stretched
out his long arms, and snuffed the pair of candles in
a twinkling.
The room became plunged in impenetrable dark-
ness.
“Not a word, Petrie ! ” whispered my companion.
I moved cautiously to join him, but as I did so,
perceived that he was moving too. Vaguely, against
the window I perceived him silhouetted. He was
looking out across the moor, and:
" Seel see!” he hissed.
With my heart thumping furiously in my breast, I
bent over him; and for the second time since our com-
ing 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 witch-
light that came and went unaccountably, up and down,
in and out, now clearly visible, now masked in the
darkness!
“ Lock the door!” snapped my companion —"if
there's a key."


THE MULATTO
225
I crept across the room and fumbled for a mo-
ment; then:
“There is no key," I reported.
“Then wedge the chair under the knob and let no
one enter until I return!” he said, amazingly.
With that he opened the window to its fullest ex-
tent, threw his leg over the sill, and went creeping
along a wide concrete ledge, in which ran a leaded
gutter, in the direction of the tower on the right!
Not pausing to follow his instructions respecting
the chair, I craned out of the window, watching his
progress, and wondering with what sudden madness
he was bitten. Indeed, I could not credit my senses,
could not believe that I heard and saw aright. Yet
there out in the darkness on the moor moved the will-
o'-the-wisp, and ten yards along the gutter crept my
friend, like a great gaunt cat. Unknown to me he
inust have prospected the route by daylight, for now
I saw his design. The ledge terminated only where
it met the ancient wall of the tower, and it was pos-
sible for an agile climber to step from it to the edge
of the unglazed window some four feet below, and
to scramble from that point to the stone fence and
thence on to the path by which we had come from
Saul.
This difficult operation Nayland Smith successfully
performed, and, so my unbounded amazement, went
racing into the darkness toward the dancing light,
headlong, like a madman! . The night swallowed
him up, and between my wonder and my fear my


226 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
hands trembled so violently that I could scarce sup-
port 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 Crag-
mire Tower was profoundly silent, but a faint odor
of cookery was now perceptible. Outside, from the
night, came a faint whispering as of the distant sea,
but no moon and no stars relieved the impenetrable
blackness. Only out over the moor the mysterious
light still danced and moved.
One — two-three — four— five minutes passed.
The night vanished and did not appear again. Five
more age-long minutes elapsed in absolute silence,
whilst I peered into the darkness of the night and
listened, every nerve in my body tense, for the return
of Nayland Smith. Yet two more minutes, which
embraced an agony of suspense, passed in the same
fashion; then a shadowy form grew, phantomesque,
out of the gloom; a moment more, and I distinctly
heard the heavy breathing of a man nearly spent,
and saw my friend scrambling up toward the black
embrasure in the tower. 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 effort of the will, and reached the end
of the ledge in time to take Smith's extended hand
and to draw him up beside me against the wall of the


THE MULATTO
227
tower. 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 twitched nervously, I ultimately succeeded in
relighting the candles.
“Get along to your room!" directed Smith.
“ Your apprehensions are unfounded at the moment,
but you may as well leave both doors wide open!”
I looked into his face — it was very drawn and
grim, and his brow was wet with perspiration, but
his eyes had the fighting glint, and I knew that we
were upon the eve of strange happenings.


CHAPTER XXIII
A CRY ON THE MOOR
F the events intervening between this moment
and that when death called to us out of the
night, I have the haziest recollections. An excel-
lent dinner was served in the bleak and gloomy din-
ing-room by the mulatto, and the crippled author
was carried to the head of the table by this same
Herculean attendant, as lightly as though he had but
the weight of a child.
Van Roon talked continuously, revealing a deep
knowledge of all sorts of obscure matters; and in
the brief intervals, Nayland Smith talked also, with
almost feverish rapidity. Plans for the future were
discussed. I can recall no one of them.
I could not stille my queer sentiments in regard to
the mulatto, and every time I found him behind my
chair I was hard put to it to repress a shudder. In
this fashion the strange evening passed; and to the
accompaniment of distant, muttering thunder, we two
guests retired to our chambers in Cragmire Tower.
Smith had contrived to give me my instructions in a
whisper, and five minutes after entering my own
room, I had snuffed the candles, slipped a wedge,
which he had given me, under the door, crept out
228


230 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“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 to remain here whilst mur-
der 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 to boot, was
being done to death out there in the darkness. I
exerted all my strength to break away; but although
my efforts told upon him, as his loud breathing re-
vealed, Nayland Smith clung to me tenaciously.
Had my hands been free, in my fury, I could have
struck him, for the pitiable cries, growing fainter,
now, told their own tale. Then Smith spoke
shortly 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 a fool.
“You remember the Call of Siva ?” he said, thrust.
ing 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 uttered two words ! ”
I realized the truth of his assertion, and the just.
ness of his anger.


A CRY ON THE MOOR 231
“ Forgive me, old man," I said, very crestfallen,
“but my impulse was a natural one, you'll admit.
You must remember that I have been trained never
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 than any yet, echoed over distant
Sedgemoor. The chasm of light splitting the heav-
ens 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 the door very slightly
ajar.”
He was in that mood of repressed fever which I
knew and which always communicated itself to me.
I spoke no further word, but stepped into the ward-
robe indicated and drew the door nearly shut. The
recess just accommodated me, and through the aper.
ture I could see the bed, vaguely, the open window,
and pazt of the opposite wall. I saw Smith cross
the floor, 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 Smith lay therein, with the sheets
pulled up over his head. The light was gone, and I
could hear big drops of rain pattering upon the
leaden gutter below the open window.


232 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
My mood was strange, detached, and character.
ized by vagueness. That Van Roon lay dead upon
the moor I was convinced; and — although I recog-
nized that it must be a sufficient one — I could not
even dimly divine the reason why we had refrained
from lending him aid. To have failed to save him,
knowing his peril, would have been bad enough; to
have refused, I thought was shameful. Better to
have shared his fate — yet ....
The downpour was increasing, and beating now a
regular tattoo upon the gutterway. Then, splitting
the oblong of greater blackness which marked the
casement, quivered dazzlingly another flash of light-
ning in which I saw the bed again, with that impres-
sion of Smith curled up in it. The blinding light
died out; came the crash of thunder, harsh and fear-
some, 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 an-
gry after the fairness of the day, these happenings
and their setting must have terrorized the stoutest
heart; but somehow I seemed detached, as I have
said, and set apart from the whirl of events; a spec-
tator. Even when a vague yellow light crept across
the room from the direction of the door, and flick-
ered unsteadily on the bed, I remained unmoved to a
certain degree, although passively alive to the signifi-
cance of the incident. I realized that the ultimate
issue was at hand, but either because I was emotione


A CRY ON THE MOOR 233
m som
ca
lly exhausted, or from some other cause, the pend-
ng climax failed to disturb me.
Going on tiptne, in stockinged feet, across my field
of vision, passed Kegan Van Roon! He was in his
shirt-sleeves and held a lighted candle in one hand
whilst with the other he shaded it against the draught
from the window. He was a cripple no longer, and
the smoked glasses were discarded; most of the light,
at the moment when first I saw him, shone upon his
thin, olive face, and at sight of his eyes much of the
mystery of Cragmire Tower was resolved. For they
were oblique, very slightly, but nevertheless unmis-
takably oblique. Though highly educated, and pos-
sibly an American citizen, Van Roon was a China-
man!
Upon the picture of his face as I saw it then, I do
not care to dwell. It lacked the unique horror of
Dr. Fu-Manchu's unforgettable countenance, but pos-
sessed a sort of animal malignancy which the latter
lacked ... He approached within three or four
feet of the bed, peering - peering. Then, with a
timidity which spoke well for Nayland Smith's repu-
tation, paused and beckoned to some one who evi.
dently stood in the doorway behind him. As he
did so I noted that the legs of his trousers 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 professional athletes, I had
never seen a torso to compare with that which, brown


A CRY ON THE MOOR
235
TUS
We gained it almost together. Smith had
dropped the cane, and now held his pistol in his hand.
Together we fired into the chasm of the corridor,
and in the flash, saw Van Roon hurling himself
down the stairs. He went silently in his stockinged
feet, and our own clatter was drowned by the aw-
ful booming of the thunder which now burst over us
again.
Crack ! - crack! — crack! Three times our pis-
tols spat venomously after the flying figure ...
then we had crossed the hall below and were in the
wilderness of the night with the rain descending upon
us in sheets. Vaguely I saw the white shirt-sleeves
of the fugitive near the corner of the stone fence. A
moment he hesitated, then darted away inland, rot
toward Saul, but toward the moor and the cup of the
inland bay.
“Steady, Petriel steady!” cried Nayland Smith.
He ran, panting, beside me. “ It is the path to the
mire.” He breathed sibilantly between every few
words. “It was out there ... that he hoped to
lure us . . . with the cry for help.”
A great blaze of lightning illuminated the land-
scape as far as the eye could see. Ahead of us a fly-
ing shape, hair lank and glistening in the downpour,
followed a faint path skirting that green tongue of
morass which we had noted from the upland. It
was Kegan Van Roon. He glanced over his shoul.
der, showing a yellow, terror-stricken face. We
were gaining upon him. Darkness fell, and the thun-


236 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
der cracked and boomed as though the very moor
were splitting about us.
“Another fifty yards, Petrie," breathed Nayland
Smith," and after that it'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 had fastened upon my foot, almost
tripping me.
“Lost the path!”
We stopped dead. The falling rain walled us in
I dared not move, for I knew that the mire, the de-
vouring mire, stretched, eager, close about my 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 that sometimes rings in my ears to
this hour. Yet it was no more than a repetition 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's justice - visible
for once."
Then came the lightning; and — ignoring a split-
ting crash behind us — we both looked ahead, over
the mire.
Just on the edge of the venomous green path, not


A CRY ON THE MOOR 237
m
thirty yards away, I saw the head and shoulders and
upstretched, appealing arms of Van Roon. Even as
the lightning flickered and we saw him, he was gone;
with one last, long, drawn-out cry, horribly like the
mournful wail of a sea gull, he was gone!
That eerie light died, and in the instant before the
sound of the thunder came shatteringly, we turned
about ... in time to see Cragmire Tower, a blacker
silhouette against the night, topple and fall! A red
glow began to be perceptible above the building.
The thunder came booming through the caverns of
space. Nayland Smith lowered his wet face close to
mine and shouted in my ear:
“Kegan Van Roon never returned from China.
It was a trap. Those were two creatures 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 it read:-SMITH...
SOS.”
“Well??
“I took the chance, as you know. And it was
Karamanèh! She knew of the plot to bury us in the
mire. She had followed from London, but could do
nothing until dusk. God forgive me if I've mis-
judged her — for we owe her our lives to-night."
Flames were bursting up from the building beside
the ruin of the ancient tower which had faced the


238 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
storms of countless ages only to succumb at last.
The lightning literally had cloven it in twain.
“The mulatto ? ..."
Again the lightning flashed, and we saw the path
and began to retrace our steps. Nayland Smith
turned to me; his face was very grim in that un-
earthly 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 toward us, swelling in volume to
a stupendous climax, that awful laughter of Jove the
destroyer of Cragmire Tower.


CHAPTER XXIV
STORY OF THE GABLES
YN looking over my notes dealing with the second
I phase of Dr. Fu-Manchu's activities in England,
I find that one of the worst hours of my life was as-
sociated with the singular and seemingly inconsequent
adventure of the fiery hand. I shall deal with it in
this place, begging you to bear with me if I seem to
digress.
Inspector Weymouth called one morning, shortly
after the Van Roon episode, and entered upon a
surprising account of a visit to a house at Hampstead
which enjoyed the sinister reputation of being unin-
habitable.
“But in what way does the case enter into your
province ? " inquired Nayland Smith, idly tapping out
his pipe on a bar of the grate.
We had not long finished breakfast, but from an
early hour Smith had been at his eternal smoking,
which only the advent of the meal had interrupted.
“Well," replied the inspector, who occupied a big
armchair near the window, “I was sent to look into
it, I suppose, because I had nothing better to do at
the moment.”
“Ahl" jerked Smith, glancing over his shoulder.
239


240 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
The ejaculation had a veiled significance; for our
quest of Dr. Fu-Manchu had come to an abrupt ter-
mination by reason of the fact that all 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, “and I 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 your present return to England — and
I knew what to expect.”
Smith looked up with some faint dawning of inter-
est perceptible in his manner.
"I was unaware,” he said with a slight smile,
" that the cleaning-up of haunted houses came within
the jurisdiction of Scotland Yard. I am learning
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 the ghost 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 died at
the Gables within the last six months."
"You begin to interest me," declared Smith, and
there came something of the old, eager look into his


STORY OF THE GABLES
241
gaunt face, as, having lighted his pipe, he tossed the
match-end into the hearth.
“I had hoped for some little excitement, myself,"
confessed the inspector. “This dead-end, with not
a ghost of a clue to the whereabouts of 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 raided
in 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 matter of the
Gables, principally as a distraction. It's a queer
business, but more 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 to you - and
to you, Dr. Petrie, because it illustrates the fact, that,
given the right sort of subject, death can be brought
about without any elaborate mechanism – such as
our Chinese friends employ."
“ You interest me more and more," declared Smith,
stretching himself in the long, white cane rest-chair.
“Two men, both fairly sound, except that the first
one had an asthmatic heart, have died at the Gables
without any one laying a little finger upon them.
Oh! there was no jugglery! They weren't poisoned,
or bitten by venomous insects, or suffocated, or any-
thing like that. They just died of fear — stark
fear.”


244 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHIU
“Maddison ?" said Smith sharply, staring across
at Weymouth. “What was he? Where did he
conse 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 are thinking; and it was this fact
which interested me at the time, and which led me
to waste precious days and nights on the case. But
there was no mortal connection between this liverish
individual and the schemes 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 a library. It was his custom
to sit there every night, when there were no visitors,
reading, until twelve o'clock or later. He was a
bachelor, and his household consisted of a cook, a
housemaid, and a man who had been with him for
thirty years, I believe. At the time of Mr. Maddi-
son's death, his household had recently been deprived
of two of its members. The cook and housemaid
both resigned one morning, giving as their reason
the fact that the place was haunted.”
“In what way?”
“I interviewed the precious pair at the time, and
they told me absurd and various tales about dark
figures wandering along the corridors and bending
over them in bed at night, whispering; but their chief


STORY OF THE GABLES 245
trouble was a continuous ringing of bells about the
house."
“ Bells ? "
“They said that it became unbearable. Night
and day there were bells ringing all over the house.
At any rate, they went, and for three or four days
the Gables was occupied only by Mr. Maddison and
his man, whose name was Stevens. I interviewed
the latter also, and he was an altogether more reli-
able witness; a decent, steady sort of man whose story
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 the ceilings, and sometimes under the
floor, like the shaking of silver bells.”
Nayland Smith stood up abruptly and began to
pace the room, leaving great trails of blue-gray smoke
behind him.
"Your story is sufficiently interesting, Inspector,"
he declared, “ even to divert my mind from the eter-
nal contemplation of the Fu-Manchu problem. 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 household arrange-
ments, and at about eleven o'clock he returned, let-
ting himself in with a key. There was a light in the
library, and getting no response to his knocking,
Stevens entered. He found his master sitting bolt


246 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
upright in a chair, clutching the arms with rigid
fingers and staring straight 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 distance away, came and exam-
ined him, he could find no trace of violence whatever;
he had apparently died of fright, to judge from the
expression on his face.”
“Anything else ? "
“Only this: I learnt, indirectly, that the last
member of the Quaker family to occupy the house
had apparently witnessed the apparition, which had
led to his vacating the place. I got the story from
the wife of a man who had been employed as gar-
dener there at that time. The apparition - which
he witnessed in the hallway, if I remember rightly —
took the form of a sort of luminous hand clutching a
long, curved knife.”
“Oh, Heavens!” cried Smith, and laughed
shortly; " that's quite in order!”
“ This gentleman told no one of the occurrence
until after he had left the house, no doubt in order
that the place should not acquire an evil reputation.
Most of the original furniture remained, and Mr.
Maddison took the house furnished. I don't think
there can be any doubt that what killed him was fear
at seeing a repetition -"
“Of the fiery hand?” concluded Smith.
“Quite so. Well, I examined the Gables pretty


STORY OF THE GABLES
247
closely, and, with another Scotland Yard man, spent
a night in the empty house. We saw nothing; but
once, 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 over our heads. We were sitting
in the dining-room. Then it was gone, and we heard
nothing more whatever of an unusual nature. Fol.
lowing the death of Mr. Maddison, the Gables re.
mained empty until a while ago, when a French gen-
tleman, 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. The man attended to the lawn
and so forth, and the woman came once a week, I
believe, to clean up the house."
“And Lejay?"
“He came in only last week, having leased the
house for six months. His family were to have
joined him in a day or two, and he, with the aid of
the pair I have just mentioned, and assisted by a
French servant he brought over with him, was put-
ting the place in order. At about twelve o'clock on
Friday night this servant ran into a neighboring
house screaming 'the fiery hand!' and when at last
a constable arrived and a frightened group went up
the avenue of the Gables, they found M. Lejay, dead


1248 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
in the avenue, near the steps just outside the hall
door! He had the 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 it will 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 man undoubtedly died of fright
in the same way as Maddison. The place ought to
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 affairs necessitated his remaining
in or near London for some considerable time; there.
fore, he decided to make his headquarters here,
temporarily, and leased the Gables with that inten.
tion."
Nayland Smith was pacing the floor with increas.
ing rapidity; he was tugging at the lobe of his left
ear and his pipe had long since gone out.


250 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
several gray wigs and a pair of gold-rimmed spec-
tacles.
Kneeling there with this strange litter about me, I
looked up amazedly. Nayland Smith, with the un-
suitable silk hat set right upon the back of his head,
was pacing the room excitedly, his fuming pipe pro-
truding from the tangle of factitious beard.
“You see, Petrie," he began again, rapidly, “I
did not entirely trust the 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 Ga-
bles?”
“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 gray eyes shone out strangely from the
altered face. He clapped his hands upon my shoul-
ders.
“If I assure you that your presence is necessary to
my safety," he said —" that if you fail me I must
seek another companion — will you come?”
Intuitively, I knew that he was keeping something


THE BELLS
251
back, and I was conscious of some resentment, but
nevertheless my reply was a foregone conclusion, and
— with the borrowed appearance of an extremely
untidy old man — I crept guiltily out of my house
that evening and into the cab which Smith had wait-
ing.
The Gables was a roomy and rambling place lying
back a considerable distance from the road. A semi-
circular drive gave access to the door, and so densely
wooded was the ground, that for the most part the
drive was practically a tunnel — a verdant tunnel.
A high brick wall concealed the building from the
point of view of any one on the roadway, but either
horn of the crescent drive terminated at a heavy,
wrought-iron gateway.
Smith discharged the cab at the corner of the nar.
row and winding road upon which the Gables fronted.
It was walled in on both sides; on the left the wall
being broken by tradesmen's entrances to the houses
fronting upon another street, and on the right follow-
ing, uninterruptedly, the grounds of the Gables. As
we came to the gate :
“Nothing now," said Smith, pointing into the
darkness of the road before us, “except a couple of
studios, until one comes to the Heath.”
He inserted the key in the lock of the gate and
swung it creakingly open. I looked into the black
arch of the avenue, thought of the haunted residence
that lay hidden somewhere beyond, of those who had
died in it - especially of the one who had died there


THE BELLS
253
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 hearing unusually acute, for I went in
momentary expectation of some uncanny happening.
I had not long to wait. As I raised the glass to my
lips and glanced across the table at my friend, I heard
the first faint sound heralding the coming of the bells.
It did not seem to proceed from anywhere within
the library, but from some distant room, far away
overhead. A musical sound it was, but breaking in
upon the silence of that ill-omened house, its music
was the music of terror. In a faint and very sweet
cascade it rippled; a ringing as of tiny silver bells.
I set down my glass upon the table, and rising
slowly from the chair in which I had been seated,
stared fixedly at my companion, who was staring with
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; I spent an hour here last
night — and heard the same sound ...".
I glanced hastily around the room. It was fur-
nished as a library, and contained a considerable col-
lection of works, principally novels. I was unable to
judge of the outlook, for the two lofty windows were
draped with heavy purple curtains which were drawn
close. A silk shaded lamp swung from the center of
the ceiling, and immediately over the table by which I
stood. There was much shadow about the room;


254. THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
and now I glanced apprehensively about me, but es.
pecially 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; in fact it appeared to come from
somewhere above, up near the ceiling of the room
in which we stood. Simultaneously, we looked up,
then Smith laughed, shortly.
“ Instinctive, I suppose," he snapped; “but what
do we expect to see in the air?"
The musical sound now grew in volume; the first
tiny peal seemed to be reinforced by others and by
others again, until the air around about us was filled
with the pealings of these invisible bell-ringers.
Although, as I have said, the sound was rather
musical than horrible, it was, on the other hand, so
utterly unaccountable as to touch the supreme heights
of the uncanny. I could not doubt that our presence
had attracted these unseen ringers to the room in
which we stood, and I knew quite well that I was
growing pale. This was the room in which at least
one unhappy occupant of the Gables had died of fear.
I recognized the fact that if this mere overture were
going to affect my nerves to such an extent, I could
not hope to survive the ordeal of the night; a great
effort was called for. I emptied my glass at a gulp,
and stared across the table at Nayland Smith with a
sort of defiance. He was standing very upright and


THE BELLS
255
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 ter.
rorizing power of the Unknown is boundless, but we
must not get in the grip of panic, or we could not
hope to remain in this house ten minutes."
I nodded without speaking. Then Smith, to my
amazement, suddenly began to 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 bene-
fit of the unseen intelligence controlling these mani-
festations; and although I regarded such finesse as
somewhat wasted, I followed my friend's lead and
replied in a voice as loud as his own:
“ Distinctly, Professor!”
Silence followed my words, a silence in which both
stood watchful and listening. Then, very faintly, I
seemed to detect the silvern ringing receding away
through distant rooms. Finally it became inaudible,
and in the stillness of the Gables I could distinctly
hear my companion breathing. For fully ten min-
utes we two remained thus, each momentarily ex-
pecting a repetition of the ringing, or the coming of
some new and more sinister manifestation. But we
heard nothing and saw nothing.
“Hand me that grip, and don't stir until I come
back!” hissed Smith in my ear.


256 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
He turned and walked out of the library, his boots
creaking very loudly in 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 appear there.
I could hear him moving from room to room, and
presently, as I waited in hushed, tense watchfulness,
he came in, depositing the grip upon the table. His
eyes were gleaming feverishly.
“The house is haunted, Pearce!” he cried.
“But no ghost ever frightened me! Come, I will
show you your room.”


258 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
mer of the truth entered my mind. Outside again
in the long, brightly lighted corridor, we stood for a
moment as if a mutual anticipation of some new
event pending had come to us. It was curious —
that sudden pulling up and silent questioning of one
another; because, although we acted thus, no sound
had reached us. A few seconds later our anticipa-
tion was realized. From the 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. I clutched at Smith's arm convulsively whilst
that uncanny cry rose and fell — rose and fell - and
died away.
Neither of us moved immediately. My mind was
working with feverish rapidity and seeking to run
down a memory which the sound had stirred into
faint quickness. My heart was still leaping wildly
when the wailing began again, rising and falling in
regular cadence. At that instant I identified it.
During the time Smith and I had spent together
in Egypt, two years before, searching for Kâra-
manèh, I had found myself on one occasion in the
neighborhood of a native cemetery near to Bedra-
sheen. Now, the scene which I had witnessed there
rose up again vividly before me, and I seemed to see
a little group of black-robed women clustered to-
gether about a native grave; for the wailing which
now was dying away again in the Gables was the
same, or almost the same, as the wailing of those
Egyptian mourners.


262 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
ated my hands and gashed my knees. Then, with
the cool night air fanning my brow, I was running —
running — my breath coming in hysterical sobs.
Beside me fled another figure. ... And my defi-
nite recollections commence again at that point. For
this companion of my light from the Gables threw
himself roughly against 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 such a gladness as no words of
mine can express nor convey. Still we ran on.
“There's a policeman's lantern,” panted my com-
panion. “They'll attempt nothing, now!”.
I gulped down the stiff brandy-and-soda, then
glanced across to where Nayland Smith lay extended
in the long, cane chair.
"Perhaps you will explain," I said, “ for what
purpose you submitted me to that ordeal. If you
proposed to correct my skepticism concerning super-
natural manifestations, you have succeeded."
“Yes,” said my companion, musingly, “they are
devilishly clever; but we knew that already."
I stared at him, fatuously.
“Have you ever known me to waste my time when
there was important work to do?" he continued.
“Do you seriously believe that my ghost-hunting
was undertaken for amusement ? Really, Petrie, ale


264 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
to which end Weymouth gave me the freedom of
Scotland Yard's fancy wardrobe. I did not take the
agent into my confidence, but posed as a stranger who
had heard that the house was to let furnished and
thought it might suit his purpose. My inquiries were
directed to a particular 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 posses-
sion of the keys, I was enabled to visit the place
alone, I was fortunate enough to obtain evidence to
show that my imagination had not misled me.
“ You were very curious the other morning, I re-
call, respecting my object in borrowing a large brace
and bit. My object, Petrie, was to bore a series of
holes in the wainscoating of various rooms at the
Gables — in inconspicuous positions, of course ..."
“But, my dear Smith!” I cried, “ you are merely
adding to my mystification."
He stood up and began to pace the room in his
restless fashion.
“I had cross-examined Weymouth closely regard-
ing the phenomenon of the bell-ringing, and an ex-
haustive search of the premises led to the discovery
that the house was in such excellent condition that,
from ground-floor to attic, there was not a solitary
crevice large enough to admit of the passage of a
mouse."
I suppose I must have been staring very foolishly
indeed, for Nayland Smith burst into one of his
sudden laughs.


THE FIERY HAND
265
“A mouse, I said, Petrie !” he cried. “With
the brace-and-bit I rectified that matter. I made
the holes I have mentioned, and before each set a
trap baited with a piece of succulent, toasted cheese.
Just open that grip!” .
The light at last was dawning upon my mental
darkness, and I pounced upon 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 were still 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. In the tenth there crouched, panting, its soft
furry body dank with perspiration, a little white
mouse!
"Only one capture!” cried my companion,
"showing how well-fed the creatures were. Exam-
ine 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 to
the little creature's tail, close to the root, with fine
soft wire such as is used for making up bouquets,
were three tiny silver bells. I looked across at my
companion in speechless surprise.
“Almost childish, is it not?” he said; “yet by
means of this simple device the Gables has been emp-


266 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
tied of occupant after occupant. There was small
chance of the trick being detected, for, as I have said,
there was absolutely no aperture from roof to base-
ment by means of which one of them could have
escaped into the building."
“ Then ..."
“They were admitted into the wall cavities and
the rafters, from some cellar underneath, Petrie, to
which, after a brief scamper under the floors and
over the ceilings, they instinctively returned for the
food they were accustomed to receive, and for which,
even had it been possible (which it was not) they
had no occasion to forage.”
I, too, stood up; for excitement was growing
within me. I took up the piece 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, “un-
der the stair. There is no cellar proper to the
Gables — at least no such cellar appears in the
plans."
“But ..."
“But there is one beyond doubt - yes! It must
be part of some older building which occupied the
site before the Gables was built. One can only sur.
mise that it exists, although such a surmise is a fairly
safe one, and the entrance to the subterranean por.
tion of the building is situated beyond doubt in the
wine cellar. Of this we have at least two evidences:


268 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“I seemed to hit something."
“That was why we ran. But I think our retreat
had all the appearance of a rout, as I intended that
it should. Pardon my playing upon your very
natural fears, old man, but you could not have simu-
lated panic half so naturally! And if they had sus-
pected that the device was discovered, we might never
have quitted the Gables alive. It was touch-and-go
for a moment."
“But ..."
“ Turn out the light!” snapped my companion.
Wondering greatly, I did as he desired. I turned
out the light ... and in the darkness of my own
study I saw a fiery fist being shaken at me threaten-
ingly! ... The bones were distinctly visible, and
the luminosity of the flesh was truly ghastly.
“ Turn on the light, again!" cried Smith.
Deeply mystified, I did so ... and my friend
tossed a little electric pocket-lamp on to the writing.
table.
“They used merely a small electric lamp fitted into
the handle of a glass dagger," he said with a sort of
contempt. " It was very effective, but the luminous
hand is a phenomenon producible by any one who
possesses an electric torch.”.
“The Gables will be watched?"
" At last, Petrie, I think we have Fu-Manchu - in
his own trap!"


270 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
door. My last sight of Smith showed him standing
looking after me, tugging at the lobe of his ear and
clicking his teeth together with suppressed irritabil.
ity. I stumbled down the dark stairs, along the hall,
and opened the front door. Vaguely visible in the
light of a street lamp which stood at no great dis-
tance away, I saw a slender man of medium height
confronting me. From the shadowed face two
large and luminous eyes looked out into mine. My
visitor, who, despite the warmth of the evening, wore
a heavy greatcoat, was an Oriental!
I drew back, apprehensively; then:
“Ah! Dr. Petrie!” he said in a softly musical
voice which made me start again, “ to God be all
praise that I have found you!”
Some emotion, which at present I could not define,
was stirring within me. Where had I seen this
graceful Eastern youth before? Where had I heard
that soft voice?
"Do you wish to see me professionally?" I asked
yet even as I put the question, I seemed to know
it unnecessary.
“So you know me no more? " said the stranger
—and his teeth gleamed in a slight smile.
Heavens! I knew now what had struck that
vibrant chord within me! The voice, though in-
finitely deeper, yet had an unmistakable resemblance
to the dulcet tones of Karamanèh — of Kâramaneh,
whose eyes haunted my dreams, whose beauty had
done much to embitter my years.


272 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
thought how to-night we were set upon raiding the
place where the evil Chinese doctor lurked in hid-
ing, were set upon the arrest of that malignant genius
and of all his creatures, Kâramanèh 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, ayoiding the gaze of the lad, I took his arm,
and in silence we two ascended the stairs and entered
my study ... where Nayland Smith stood bolt up-
right beside the table, his steely eyes fixed upon the
face of the new arrival.
No look of recognition crossed the bronzed fea-
tures, and Azîz, who had started forward with out-
stretched hands, fell back a step and looked pathetic-
ally from me to Nayland Smith, and from the grim
commissioner back again to me. The appeal in the
velvet eyes was more than I could tolerate, unmoved.
“Smith," I said shortly, “ you remember Azîz ?"
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 Azîz, laying his hand upon my
arm with a gesture painfully reminiscent of Kâra-
manèh -“I came only to-night to London. Oh, my
gentlemen! I have searched, and searched, and
searched, until I am weary. Often I have wished to
die. And then at last I come to Rangoon ..."


THE NIGHT OF THE RAID 273
. "To Rangoon!” snapped Smith, still with the
gray eyes fixed almost fiercely upon the lad's face.
“To Rangoon — yes; and there I heard news at
last. I hear that you have seen her — have seen
Kâramanèh — that you are back in London." He
was not entirely at home with his English. “I know
then that she must be here, too. I ask them every-
where, and they answer 'yes' Oh, Smith Pasha!”
- he stepped forward and impulsively seized both
Smith's hands -"You know where she is -- take me
to her!”
Smith's face was a study in perplexity, now. In
the past we had befriended the young Azîz, and it
was hard to look upon him in the light of an enemy.
Yet had we not equally befriended his sister? —
and she ...
At last Smith glanced across at me where I stood
just within the doorway.
“What do you make of it, Petrie ?” he said
harshly. “ Personally I take it to mean that our
plans have leaked out.” He sprang suddenly back
from Azîz, and I saw his glance traveling rapidly
over the slight figure as if in quest of concealed arms.
“I take it to be a trap!"
A moment he stood so, regarding him, and despite
my well-grounded distrust of the Oriental character,
I could have sworn that the expression of pained
surprise upon the youth's face was not simulated but
real. Even Smith, I think, began to share my view,


274 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
for suddenly he threw himself into the white cane
rest-chair, and, still fixedly regarding Azîz:
“ Perhaps I have wronged you," he said. “If I
have, you shall know the reason presently. Tell
your own story!”.
There was a pathetic humidity in the velvet eyes of
Azîz - eyes so like those others that were ever look-
ing into mine in dreams — as glancing from Smith
to me he began, hands outstretched, characteristic-
ally, palms upward and fingers curling, to tell in
broken English the story of his search for Kâra-
manèh ..."
" It was Fu-Manchu, my kind gentlemen - it was
the hâkim who is really not a man at all, but an
efreet. He found us again less than four days after
you had left us, Smith Pasha! ... He found us in
Cairo, and to Karamanèh he 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, re-
membering how the brilliant Chinese doctor once had
performed such an operation as this upon poor In-
spector Weymouth; how, by means of an injection
of some serum prepared (as Kâramanèh afterwards
told us) from the venom of a swamp adder or similar
reptile, he had induced amnesia, or complete loss of
memory. I felt every drop of blood recede from my
cheeks.


276 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“Either I am growing over-credulous," he said,
" or Azîz speaks the truth. But ”- he held up his
hand -"you can tell me all that at some other time,
Petrie! We must take no chances. Sergeant
Carter is downstairs with the cab; you might ask
him to step up. He and Azîz can remain here un-
til our return."


CHAPTER XXVIII
The SAMURAI'S SWORD
Thish life a city
THE muffled drumming of sleepless London
1 seemed very remote from us, as side by side
we crept up the narrow path to the studio. This was
a starry but moonless night, and the little dingy white
building with a solitary tree peeping, in silhouette,
above the glazed roof, bore an odd resemblance to
one of those tombs which form a city of the dead so
near to the city of feverish life on the slopes of the
Mokattam Hills. This line of reflection proved un-
pleasant, and I dismissed it sternly from my mind.
The shriek of a train-whistle reached me, a sound
which breaks the stillness of the most silent London
night, telling of the ceaseless, febrile life of the great
world-capital whose activity ceases not with the com-
ing of darkness. Around and about us a very great
stillness reigned, however, and the velvet dusk —
which, with the star-jeweled sky, was strongly sug-
gestive of an Eastern night — gavę up no sign to
show that it masked the presence of more than twenty
men. Some distance away on our right was the
Gables, that sinister and deserted mansion which we
Assumed, and with good reason, to be nothing less
277


278 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
than the gateway to the subterranean abode of Dr.
Fu-Manchu; before us was the studio, which, if Nay-
land Smith's deductions were accurate, concealed a
second entrance to the same mysterious dwelling.
As my friend, glancing cautiously all about him,
inserted the key in the lock, an owl hooted dismally
almost immediately above our heads. I caught my
breath sharply, for it might be a signal; but, looking
upward, I saw a great black shape float slantingly
from the tree beyond the studio into the coppice on
the right which hemmed in the Gables. Silently the
owl winged its uncanny fight into the greater dark-
ness of the trees, and was gone. Smith opened the
door and we stepped into the studio. Our plans had
been well considered, and in accordance with these,
I now moved up beside my friend, who was dimly
perceptible to me in the starlight which found access
through the glass roof, and pressed the catch of my
electric pocket-lamp ...
I suppose that by virtue of my self-imposed duty
as chronicler of the deeds of Dr. Fu-Manchu --- the
greatest and most evil genius whom the later cen-
turies have produced, the man who dreamt of an uni-
versal Yellow Empire - I should have acquired a
certain facility in describing bizarre happenings.
But I confess that it fails me now as I attempt in
cold English to portray my emotions when the white
beam from the little lamp cut through the darkness
of the studio, and shone fully upon the beautiful face
of Karamanèh!


280 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“Steady with the light, Petrie!” he hissed in my
ear. “My skepticism has been shaken, to-night, but
I am taking no chances.”
He moved from my side and forward toward that
lovely, unreal figure which stood immediately before
the model's throne and its background of plush cur-
tains. Kâramanèh started forward to meet him,
suppressing a little cry, whose real anguish could not
have been simulated.
“Go back! go back!” she whispered urgently,
and thrust out her hands against Smith's breast.
“For God's sake, go back! I have risked my life
to come here to-night. He knows, and is
ready!”...
The words were spoken with passionate inten-
sity, and Nayland Smith hesitated. To my nostrils
was wafted that faint, delightful perfume which,
since one night, two years ago, it had come to dis-
turb my senses, had taunted me many times as the
mirage taunts the parched Sahara traveler. I took
a step forward.
“Don't move!" snapped Smith.
Kâramanèh clutched frenziedly at the lapels of
his coat.
“ Listen to me!” she said, beseechingly, and
stamped one little foot upon the floor -—“ listen to
me! You are a clever man, but you know nothing
of a woman's heart — nothing — nothing - if see-
ing me, hearing me, knowing, as you do know, what
I risk, you can doubt that I speak the truth. And I


THE SAMURAI'S SWORD
281
tell you that it is death to go behind those curtains
that he ..."
“That's what I wanted to know!" snapped Smith.
His voice quivered with excitement.
Suddenly grasping Kâramanèh by the waist, he
lifted her and set her aside; then in three bounds he
was on to the model's throne and had torn the
plush curtains bodily from their fastenings.
How it occurred I cannot hope to make ciear,
for here my recollections merge into a chaos. I
know that Smith seemed to topple forward amid the
purple billows of velvet, and his muffled cry came to
me:
“Petrie! My God, Petrie!”...
The pale face of Kâramanèh looked up into mine
and her hands were clutching me, but the glamour of
her personality had lost its hold, for I knew -
heavens, how poignantly it struck home to me! -
that Nayland Smith was gone to his death. What I
hoped to achieve, I know not, but hurling the trem-
bling girl aside, I snatched the Browning pistol from
my coat pocket, and with the ray of the lamp di-
rected upon the purple mound of velvet, I leaped
forward.
I think I realized that the curtains had masked a
collapsible trap, a sheer pit of blackness, an instant
before I was precipitated into it, but certainly the
knowlege came too late. With the sound of a soft,
shuddering cry in my ears, I fell, dropping lamp and
pistol, and clutching at the fallen hangings. But


282 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
they offered me no support. My head seemed to be
bursting; I could utter only a hoarse groan, as I fell
— fell — fell ...
When my mind began to work again, in returning
consciousness, I found it to be laden with reproach.
How often in the past had we blindly hurled our-
selves into just such a trap as this? Should we
never learn that where Fu-Manchu was, impetuosity
must prove fatal? On two distinct occasions in the
past we had been made the victims of this device,
yet even although we had had practically conclusive
evidence that this studio was used by Dr. Fu-Man-
chu, we had relied upon its floor being as secure as
that of any other studio, we had failed to sound
every foot of it ere trusting our weight to its sup-
port. ...
“There is such a divine simplicity in the English
mind that one may lay one's plans with mathematical
precision, and rely upon the Nayland Smiths and
Dr. Petries to play their allotted parts. Excepting
two faithful followers, my friends are long since de-
parted. But here, in these vaults which time has
overlooked and which are as secret and as service-
able 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 I strove to spring upright — only
to realize that I was tied fast to a heavy ebony chair


284. THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
were a number of books and papers. Before this
table was a high-backed, heavily carven chair. A
smaller table stood upon the right of the only visi-
ble opening, a low door partially draped with bead.
work curtains, above which hung a silver lamp. On
this smaller table, a stick of incense, in a silver
holder, sent up a pencil of vapor into the air, and
the chamber was loaded with the sickly sweet fumes.
A faint haze from the incense-stick hovered up un
der the roof.
In the high-backed chair sat Dr. Fu-Manchu,
wearing a green robe upon which was embroidered a
design, the subject of which at first glance was not
perceptible, but which presently I made out to be a
huge white peacock. He wore a little cap perched
upon the dome of his amazing skull, and with one
clawish hand resting upon the ebony of the table,
he sat slightly turned toward me, his emotionless
face a mask of incredible evil. In spite of, or be.
cause of, the high intellect written upon it, the face
of Dr. Fu-Manchu was more utterly repellent than
any I have ever known, and the green eyes, eyes
green as those of a cat in the darkness, which some-
times burned like witch lamps, and sometimes were
horribly filmed like nothing human or imaginable,
might have mirrored not a soul, but an emanation
of hell, incarnate in this gaunt, high-shouldered
body.
Stretched flat upon the floor lay Nayland Smith,
partially stripped, his arms thrown back over his
Caus


THE SAMURAI'S SWORD
285
ns
head and his wrists chained to a stout iron staple
attached to the wall; he was fully conscious and
staring intently at the Chinese doctor. His bare
ankles also were manacled, and fixed to a second
chain, which quivered tautly across the green carpet
and passed out 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 hear my watch ticking in my
pocket. I suddenly realized that although my body
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 which stood
hilt upward against the wall within reach of my
hand. It was a magnificent piece, of Japanese
workmanship; a long, curved Damascened blade
having a double-handed hilt of steel, inlaid with
gold, and resembling fine Kuft work. A host of
possibilities swept through my mind. Then I per-
ceived that the sword was attached to the wall by a
thin steel chain some five feet in length.
“Even if you had the dexterity of a Mexican
knife-thrower," came the guttural voice of Fu-Man-
chu, “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 in the direction of Fu-Manchu.
My friend's face was slightly pale beneath the tan,


THE SAMURAI'S SWORD
287
honorable end, must follow strictly the ritual. As a
physician, the exact nature of the ceremony might
possibly interest you, Dr. Petrie, but a technical ac-
count of the two incisions which the sacrificant em-
ploys in his self-dismissal, might, on the other hand,
bore Mr. Nayland Smith. Therefore I will merely
enlighten you upon one little point, a minor one, but
interesting to the student of human nature. In
short, even a samurai — and no braver race has
ever honored the world - sometimes hesitates to
complete the operation. The weapon near to your
hand, my dear Dr. Petrie, is known as the Friend's
Sword. On such occasions as we are discussing, a
trusty friend is given the post — an honored one —
of standing behind the brave man who offers himself
to his gods, and should the latter's courage mo-
mentarily fail him, the friend with the trusty blade
(to which now I especially direct your attention)
diverts the hierophant's mind from his digression,
and rectifies his temporary breach of etiquette by
severing the cervical vertebræ of the spinal 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 the pur.
pose of Dr. Fu-Manchu; of the whole horrible truth,
of the scheme which had been conceived by that
mighty, evil man, I had no glimmering, but I fore-
saw that a frightful ordeal was before us both.


THE SAMURAI'S SWORD
289
about two feet wide. In short, it was a stout frame-
work covered with fine wire-netting on the top,
sides and ends, but being open at the bottom. It
seemed to be made in five sections or to contain four
sliding partitions which could be raised or lowered
at will. These were of wood, and in the bottom
of each was cut a little arch. The arches in the
four partitions varied in size, so that whereas the
first was not more than five inches high, the fourth
opened almost to the wire roof of the box or cage;
and a fifth, which was but little higher than the first,
was cut in the actual end of the contrivance.
So intent was I upon this device, the purpose of
which I was wholly unable 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 cage upon the brilliant carpet, I glanced
toward Fu-Manchu. He was watching Nayland
Smith, and revealing his irregular yellow teeth
the teeth of an opium smoker - in the awful mirth-
less smile which I knew.
“God!" whispered Smith "the Six Gates!”
“The knowledge of my beautiful country serves
you well,” replied Fu-Manchu gently.
Instantly I looked to my friend ... and every
drop of blood seemed to recede from my heart, leav-
ing it cold in my breast. If I did not know the
purpose of the cage, obviously Smith knew it all too
well. His pallor had grown more marked, and al-
though his gray eyes stared defiantly at the Chinaa


292 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
few seconds, I saw nothing and heard nothing; my
sensory nerves were dulled entirely. From this
state I was awakened and brought back to the reali-
ties by a sound which ever afterward I was doomed
to associate with that ghastly scene.
This was the squealing of the rats.
The red mist seemed to disperse at that, and with
frightfully intense interest, I began to study the aw-
ful torture to which Nayland Smith was being sub-
jected. The dacoit had disappeared, and Fu-Man-
chu placidly was watching the four lean and hideous
animals in the cage. As I also turned my eyes in
that direction, the rats overcame their temporary
fear, and began ...
“You have been good enough to notice," said the
Chinaman, his voice still sunk in that sibilant
whisper, “my partiality for dumb allies. You have
met my scorpions, my death-adders, my baboon-
man. The uses of such a playful little animal as a
marmoset have never been fully appreciated before,
I think, but to an indiscretion of this last-named pet
of mine, I seem to remember that you owed some-
thing in the past, Dr. Petrie ...".
Nayland Smith stifled a deep groan. One rapid
glance I ventured at his face. It was a grayish hue,
now, and dank with perspiration. His gaze met
mine.
The rats had almost ceased squealing.
"Much depends upon yourself, Doctor," con-
tinued Fu-Manchu, slightly raising his voice. "I


THE SIX GATES
293
credit Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith with cour-
age high enough to sustain the raising of all the
gates; but I estimate the strength of your friendship
highly, also, and predict that you will use the sword
of the samurai certainly not later than the time when
I shall raise the third gate. ..."
A low shuddering sound, which I cannot hope to
describe, but alas! can never forget, broke from the
lips of the tortured man.
“In China," resumed Fu-Manchu, “we call this
quaint fancy the Six Gates of Joyful Wisdom. The
first gate, by which the rats are admitted, is called
the Gate of Joyous Hope; the second, the Gate of
Mirthful Doubt. The third gate is poetically
named the Gate of True Rapture, and the fourth,
the Gate of Gentle Sorrow. I once was honored in
the friendship of an exalted mandarin who sustained
the course of Joyful Wisdom to the raising of the
Fifth Gate (called the Gate of Sweet Desires) and
the admission of the twentieth rat. I esteem him
almost equally with my ancestors. The Sixth, or
Gate Celestial — whereby a man enters into the Joy
of Complete Understanding - I have dispensed
with, here, substituting a Japanese fancy of an
antiquity nearly as great and honorable. The in-
troduction of this element of speculation, I count a
happy thought, and accordingly take pride to my-
self.”
“ The sword, Petrie !" whispered Smith. I
should not have recognized his voice, but he spoke
CC


THE SIX GATES
297
lashed, and the fourth ran all around against the
wall . . . Fu-Manchu, prostrate across the over-
turned cage, lay still, his massive head sagging down-
ward.
I experienced a mental repetition of my adventure
in the earlier evening - 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
T SEEMED to haul myself back out of the pit of
1 unconsciousness by the aid of two little hands
which clasped my own. I uttered a sigh that was
almost a sob, and opened my eyes.
I was sitting in the big red-leathern armchair in
my own study ... and a lovely but truly bizarre
figure, in a harem dress, was kneeling on the carpet
at my feet; so that my first sight of the world was the
sweetest sight that the world had to offer me, the
dark eyes of Karamanèh, with tears trembling like
jewels upon her lashes!
I looked no further than that, heeded not if there
were others in the room beside we two, but, grip-
ping the jewel laden fingers in what must have been
a cruel clasp, I searched the depths of the glorious
eyes in ever growing wonder. What change had
taken place in those limpid, mysterious pools? Why
was a wild madness growing up within me like a
flame? Why was the old longing returned, ten-thou-
sandfold, to snatch that pliant, exquisite shape to my
breast?
No word was spoken, but the spoken words of a
thousand ages could not have expressed one tithe
208


THE CALL OF THE EAST
299
what was held in that silent communion. A hand
was laid hesitatingly on my shoulder. I tore my
gaze away from the lovely face so near to mine, and
glanced up.
Azîz stood at the back of my chair.
“ God is all merciful," he said. “My sister is
restored to us " (I loved him for the plural); " and
she remembers."
Those few words were enough; I understood now
that this lovely girl, who half knelt, half lay, at my
feet, was not the evil, perverted creature of Fu-
Manchu whom we had gone out to arrest with the
other vile servants of the Chinese doctor, but was the
old, beloved companion of two years ago, the Kâra-
manèh for whom I had sought long and wearily ir,
Egypt, who had been swallowed up and lost to me
in that land of mystery.
The loss of memory which Fu-Manchu had arti-
ficially induced was subject to 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; the sight of Azîz had completed it.
Inspector Weymouth was standing by the writing-
table. My mind cleared rapidly now, and stand-
ing up, but without releasing the girl's hands, so that
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.


300 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
“Poor, dear old Smith!” I cried, with a break in
my voice.
Dr. Gray, a neighboring practitioner, appeared in
the doorway at the moment that I spoke the words.
" It's all right, Petrie,” he said, reassuringly; “I
think we took it in time. I have thoroughly cauter-
ized the wounds, and granted that no complication
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. At any rate, my behavior was
extraordinary. I raised both my hands above my
head.
“Thank God!” I cried at the top of my voice,
“thank God! — thank God!”
“Thank Him, indeed,” responded the musical
voice of Azîz. He spoke with all the passionate de-
voutness of the true Môslem.
Everything, even Kâramanèh, was forgotten, and
I started for the door as though my life depended
upon my speed. With one foot upon the landing,
I turned, looked back, and met the glance of In-
spector 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 two minutes after we hauled you
out!”
As I write, now, of those strange days, already
they seem remote and unreal. But, where other and


CHAPTER XXXI
“My SHADOW LIES UPON You"
T SUPPOSE I did not awake very readily. Fol
T lowing the nervous vigilance of the past six
months, my tired nerves, in the enjoyment of this
relaxation, were rapidly recuperating. I no longer
feared to awake to find 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) for some time, and of this I had been
hazily conscious before finally I awoke. Then, ere
the new sense of security came to reassure me, the old
sense of impending harm set my heart leaping nerv-
ously. There is always a certain physical panic at-
tendant upon such awakening in the still of night,
especially in novel surroundings. Now, I sat up ab-
ruptly, 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 save for a remote and
soothing throb, inseparable from the progress of a
great steamship, nothing else disturbed the stillness;
I might have floated lonely upon the bosom of the
302


“MY SHADOW LIES UPON YOU” 305
the two and read these words as the operator wrote
them down:
Dr. Petrie - my shadow ...
I drew a quick breath and gripped Platts' shoulder
harshly. His assistant began fingering the instru-
ment with irritation.
“Lost it again!” he muttered.
“ This message," I began ...
But again the pencil was traveling over the paper :
- lies upon you all . . . 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 blue Mediterranean
stretched indefinitely about us, we three stood look-
ing at one another. By virtue of a miracle of mod-
ern science, some one, divided from me by mile upon
mile of boundless ocean, had spoken and had been
heard.
" Is there no means of learning," I said, “ from
whence this message emanated?"
Platts shook his head, perplexedly.
“They gave no code word,” he said. “God
knows who they were. It's a strange 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 mechan-
ically entered my mind, but one of which I did not
choose to speak, since it was opposed to human possi.
bility.
But, had I not seen with my own eyes the bloody


“MY SHADOW LIES UPON YOU” 307
coloring had fled, and she was white to the lips.
Azîz, who wore a dressing-gown thrown hastily over
his night attire, had his arm protectively about the
girl's shoulders.
“The mummy!” she whispered tremulously —
“ the mummy!”
There came a sound of opening doors, and several
passengers, whom Kâramanèh's cries had alarmed,
appeared in various stages of undress. A steward-
ess came running from the far end of the alleyway,
and I found time to wonder at my own speed; for,
starting from the distant Marconi deck, yet I had
been the first to arrive upon the scene.
Stacey, the ship's doctor, was quartered at no great
distance from the spot, and he now joined the group.
Anticipating the question which trembled upon the
lips of several of those about me:
“Come to Dr. Stacey's room," I said, taking
Kâramanèh's arm; “we will give you something to
enable you to sleep.” I turned to the group. “My
patient has had severe nerve trouble," I explained,
“ and has developed somnambulistic tendencies.”
I declined the stewardess' offer of assistance, with
a slight shake of the head, and shortly the four of
us entered the doctor's cabin, on the deck above.
Stacey carefully closed the door. He was an old fel-
low student of mine, and already he knew much of
the history of the beautiful Eastern girl and her
brother Azîz.
“I fear there's mischief afoot, Petrie,” he said.


“MY SHADOW LIES UPON YOU” 309
looking at her with that strange love, which was al-
most adoration, in his eyes, glanced back at me and
nodded his head rapidly.
“Something ”- Kâramaneh paused, shuddering
violently —“ some dreadful thing, like a mummy es-
caped from its tomb, came into my room to-night
through the porthole ..."
“Through the porthole ? " echoed Stacey, amaz-
edly.
“Yes, yes, through the porthole! A creature
tall and very, very thin. He wore wrappings-
yellow wrappings — swathed about his head, so that
only his eyes, his evil gleaming eyes, were visible.
... From waist to knees he was covered, also, but
his body, his feet, and his legs were bare ..."
“Was he ?” I began ...
“He was a brown man, yes "— Kâramanèh, divin.
ing my question, nodded, and the shimmering cloud
of her wonderful hair, hastily confined, burst free
and rippled about her shoulders. “A gaunt, flesh-
less brown man, who bent, and writhed bony fingers
- so!”
“ A thug!" I cried.
“He- it — the mummy thing — would have
strangled me if I had slept, for he crouched over the
berth — seeking — seeking ..."
I clenched my teeth conyulsively.
“But I was sitting up -”.
“ With the light on?” interrupted Stacey in sur
prise.


CHAPTER XXXII
THE TRAGEDY
MTAYLAND SMITH leaned against the edge of
IV the dressing-table, attired in pyjamas. The
little stateroom was hazy with smoke, and my friend
gripped the charred briar between his teeth and
watched the blue-gray clouds arising from the bowl,
in an abstracted way. I knew that he was thinking
hard, and from the fact that he had exhibited no
surprise when I had related to him the particulars
of the attack upon Kâramanèh, I judged that he had
half anticipated something of the kind. Suddenly
he stood up, staring at me fixedly.
“Your tact has saved the situation, Petrie," he
snapped. “ It failed you momentarily, though, when
you proposed to me just now that we should muster
the lascars for inspection. Our game is to pretend
that we know nothing that we believe Kâramaneh
to have had a bad dream."
“But, Smith," I began —
“It would be useless, Petrie,” he interrupted me.
“ You cannot suppose that I overlooked the possi-
bility of some creature of the doctor's being among
the lascars. I can assure you that not one of them
answers to the description of the midnight assailant.
From the girl's account we have to look (discarding
311


312 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
the idea of a revivified mummy) for a man of un-
usual height — and there's no lascar of unusual
height on board; and from the visible evidence, that
he entered the stateroom through the porthole, we
have to look for a man more than normally thin. In
a word, the servant of Dr. Fu-Manchu who at-
tempted the life of Kâramanèh is either in hiding on
the ship, or, if visible, is disguised.”
With his usual clarity of vision, Nayland Smith
had visualized the facts of the case; I passed in
mental survey each one of the passengers, and those
of the crew whose appearances were familiar to me,
with the result that I had to admit the justice of my
friend's conclusions. Smith began to pace the nar-
row strip of carpet between the dressing-table and
the door. Suddenly he began again.
“From our knowledge of Fu-Manchu — and of
the group surrounding him (and, don't forget, sur-
viving him) — we may further assume that the wire-
less message was no gratuitous piece of melodrama,
but that it was directed to a definite end. Let us en-
deavor to link up the chain a little. You occupy an
upper deck berth; so do I. Experience of the China-
man has formed a habit in both of us; that of sleep-
ing with closed windows. Your port was fastened
and so was my own. Karamanèh is quartered on
the main deck, and her brother's stateroom opens into
the same alleyway. Since the ship is in the Straits of
Messina, and the glass set fair, the stewards have not
closed the portholes nightly at present. We know


314 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
2 S2
“I regard the episode," continued Smith, “as a
posthumous attempt of the doctor's; a legacy of hate
which may prove more disastrous than any attempt
made upon us by Fu-Manchu in life. Some fiendish
member of the murder group is on board the ship.
We must, as always, meet guile with guile. There
must be no appeal to the captain, no public examina-
tion of passengers and crew. One attempt has
failed; I do not doubt that others will be made. At
present, you will enact the role of physician-in-attend-
ance upon Karamanèh, and will put it about for
whom it may interest that a slight return of her
nervous trouble is causing her to pass uneasy nights.
I can safely leave this part of the case to you, I
think?"
I nodded rapidly.
“I haven't troubled to make inquiries," added
Smith, “but I think it probable that the regulation
respecting closed ports will come into operation im-
mediately we have passed the Straits, or at any rate
immediately there is any likelihood of bad weather.”
“You mean —"
"I mean that no alteration should be made in our
habits. A second attempt along similar lines is to
be apprehended — to-night. After that we may be-
gin 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 morn-
ing, I was subjected to solicitous inquiries from Mrs.
Prior, the gossip of the ship. Her room adjoined


THE TRAGEDY
317
parts of the ship. I learned later that he had ex-
plored the lascars' quarters, the forecastle, the en-
gine-room, and had even descended to the stoke-
hold; but this was done so unostentatiously that it
occasioned no comment.
With the approach of evening, in place of that.
physical contentment which usually heralds the din-
ner-hour, at sea, I experienced a fit of the seemingly
causeless apprehension which too often in the past
had harbingered the coming of grim events; which
I had learnt to associate with the nearing presence
of one of Fu-Manchu's death-agents. In view of
the facts, as I afterwards knew them to be, I can-
not account for this.
Yet, in an unexpected manner, my forebodings
were realized. That night I was destined to meet
a sorrow surpassing any which my troubled life had
known. Even now I experience great difficulty in
relating the matters which befell, in speaking of the
sense of irrevocable loss which came to me. Briefly,
then, at about ten minutes before the dining hour,
whilst all the passengers, myself included, were be-
low, dressing, a faint cry arose from somewhere aft
on the upper deck — a cry which was swiftly taken
up by other voices, so that presently a deck steward
echoed it immediately outside my own stateroom:
“Man overboard! Man overboard!”
All my premonitions rallying in that one sicken.
ing moment, I sprang out on the deck, half dressed
as I was, and leaping past the boat which swung
se


THE TRAGEDY
3.19
To spring overboard to the rescue was a natural
impulse, but to have obeyed it would have been worse
than quixotic. In the first place, the drowning 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 them the third-officer, standing upright
in the stern of the boat — which, with commendable
promptitude had already been swung into the water.
The steamer was being put about, describing a wide
arc around the little boat dancing on the deep blue
rollers. ...
Of the next hour, I cannot bear to write at all.
Long as I had known him, I was ignorant of my
friend's powers as a swimmer, but I judged that he
must have been a poor one from the fact that he had
sunk so rapidly in a calm sea. Except the hat, no
trace of Nayland Smith remained when the boat
got to the spot.
him, I wait I judged he had


THE MUMMY
321
Those passengers whom I met on my way to his
room regarded me in respectful silence. By con-
trast, Stacey's attitude surprised and even annoyed
me.
“I'd be prepared to stake all I possess — al-
though it's not much," he said, “that this was not
the work of your hidden enemy."
He blankly refused to give me his reasons for the
statement and strongly advised me to watch and
wait but to make no communication to the captain.
At this hour I can look back and savor again some-
thing of the profound dejection of that time. I
could not face the passengers; I even avoided
Kâramanèh and Aziz. I shut myself in my cabin
and sat staring aimlessly into the growing darkness.
The steward knocked, once, inquiring if I needed
anything, but I dismissed him abruptly. So I
passed the evening and the greater part of the night.
Those groups of promenaders who passed my
door, invariably were discussing my poor friend's
tragic end; but as the night wore on, the deck grew
empty, and I sat amid a silence that in my miserable
state I welcomed more than the presence of any
friend, saving only the one whom I should never
welcome again.
Since I had not counted the bells, to this day I
have only the vaguest idea respecting the time
whereat the next incident occurred which it is my
duty to chronicle. Perhaps I was on the verge of
falling asleep, seated there as I was; at any rate, I
d sat stars and Azizsengers;


322 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
could scarcely believe myself awake, when, un-
heralded by any footsteps to indicate his coming,
some one who seemed to be crouching outside my
stateroom, slightly raised himself and peered in
through the porthole — which I had not troubled to
close.
He must have been a fairly tall man to have looked
in at all, and although his features were indistinguish-
able in the darkness, his outline, which was clearly
perceptible against the white boat beyond, was un-
familiar 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 some way
suggested an unnatural thinness; in short, the smudgy
silhouette in the porthole was weirdly like that of
a mummy!
For some moments I stared at the apparition;
then, rousing myself from the apathy into which I
had sunk, I stood up very quickly and stepped across
the room. As I did so the figure vanished, and
when I threw open the 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 the course, to seek confirmation of
what I had seen from the officer on the bridge: my
own berth, together with the one adjoining — that
of the bishop — was not visible from the bridge.
For some time I stood in my doorway, wondering
in a disinterested fashion which now I cannot ex-


324 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
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 gone like 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 have been dozing; it's a dead slow watch, and
the navigation on this part of the run is child's play."
I was on the point of telling him what I had seen
myself, two evenings before, but for some reason I
refrained from doing so, although I think had I
confided in him he would have abandoned the idea
that what he had seen was phantasmal; for the pair
of us could not very well have been dreaming.
Some malignant presence haunted the ship; I could
not doubt this; yet I remained passive, sunk in a
lethargy of sorrow.
We were scheduled to reach Port Said at about
eight o'clock in the evening, but by reason of the de-
lay occasioned so tragically, I learned that in all prob-
ability we should not arrive earlier than midnight,
whilst passengers would not go ashore until the fol-
lowing morning. Kâramanèh, who had been star.
ing ahead all day, seeking a first glimpse of her na.
tive land, was determined to remain up until the


THE MUMMY
325.
hour of our arrival, but after dinner a notice was
posted up stating that we should not be in before two
A. M. Even those passengers who were the most
enthusiastic thereupon determined to postpone, for a
few hours, their first glimpse of the land of the
Pharaohs and even to forego the sight - one of the
strangest and most interesting in the world - of
Port Said by night.
For my own part, I confess that all the interest
and hope with which I had looked forward to our
arrival, had left me, and often I detected tears in
the eyes of Karamanèh; whereby I knew that the
coldness in my heart had manifested itself even to
her. I had sustained the greatest blow of my life,
and not even the presence of so lovely a companion
could entirely recompense me for the loss of my dear-
est friend.
The lights on the Egyptian shore were faintly visi-
ble when the last group of stragglers on deck broke
up. I had long since prevailed upon Kâramaneh
to retire, and now, utterly sick at heart, I sought my
own stateroom, mechanically undressed, and turned
in.
It may, or may not be singular that I had neglected
all precautions since the night of the tragedy; I was
not even conscious of a desire to visit retribution
upon our hidden enemy; in some strange fashion I
took it for granted that there would be no further
attempts upon Kâramanèh, Azîz, or myself. I had
not troubled to confirm Smith's surmise respecting


326 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
can
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 Straits of Messina, to-night,
in sight of the Egyptian coast, the regulation was
relaxed again. I cannot say if this is usual, but that
it occurred on this ship is a fact to which I can
testify — a fact to which my attention was to be
drawn dramatically.
The night was steamingly hot, and because I wel-
comed the circumstance that my own port was widely
opened, I reflected that those on the lower decks
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 that occurred which
induced me to change my mind.
All passengers had long since retired, and a mid-
night silence descended upon the ship, for we were
not yet close enough to port for any unusual activi-
ties to have commenced.
Clearly outlined in the open porthole there sud-
denly arose that same grotesque 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 me in absolute silence, that gaunt thing so
like a mummy; and, with my eyes partly closed, I
watched him, breathing heavily all the time. Then,
making no more noise than a cat, he moved away


THE MUMMY
327
across the deck, and I could judge of his height by
the fact that his small, swathed head remained visible
almost to the time that he passed to the end of the
white boat which swung opposite my stateroom.
In a moment I slipped quietly to the floor, crossed,
and peered out of the porthole; so that at last I
had a clear view of the sinister mummy-man. He
was crouching under the bow of the boat, and at-
taching to the white rails, below, a contrivance of a
kind with which I was not entirely unfamiliar. This
was a thin ladder of silken rope, having bamboo
rungs, with two metal hooks for attaching it to any
suitable object.
The one thus engaged was, as Kâramanèh had
declared, almost superhumanly thin. His loins were
swathed in a sort of linen garment, and his head so
bound about, turban fashion, that only his gleaming
eyes remained visible. The bare limbs and body
were of a dusky yellow color, and, at sight 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
swathed head whilst he threw the end of the ladder
over the side, crept past the bow of the boat, and
swung his gaunt body over the rail, exhibiting the
agility of an ape. One quick glance fore and aft he
gave, then began to swarm down the ladder: in which
instant I knew his mission.


328 THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU
With a choking cry, which forced itself unwilled
from my lips, I tore at the door, threw it open, and
sprang across the deck. Plans, I had none, and
since I carried no instrument wherewith to sever the
ladder, the murderer might indeed have carried out
his design for all that I could have done to prevent
him, were it not that another took a hand in the
game. ...
At the moment that the mummy-man - his head
now on a level with the deck — perceived me, he
stopped dead. Coincident with his stopping, the
crack 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 of a great effort,
swarmed along aft some twenty feet, with incredible
swiftness 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 above me leaped a figure attired solely
The newcomer leaped away
in the wake of the mummy-man — who had vanished
around the corner by the smoke-room. Over his,
shoulder he cried back at me:
“The bishop's stateroom! See that no one en.
ters!”
I clutched at my head — which seemed to be fiery


THE MUMMY
331
е
у
searched the ship, without result. He may have
gone overboard and chanced the swim to shore ..."
We stepped out onto the deck. Around us was
that unforgettable scene — Port Said by night.
The ship was barely moving through the glassy
water, now. Smith took my arm and we walked for-
ward. Above us was the mighty peace of Egypt's
sky ablaze with splendor; around and about us moved
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 as in a vise. Hard upon his
words had followed the rattling clangor as the great
anchor was let go; but horribly intermingled with
the metallic roar there came to us such a fearful, in-
articulate shrieking as to chill one'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 lamp swung
hard by.
“We shall never know," he whispered. “God
forgive him — he must be in bloody tatters now.
Petrie, the poor fool was hiding in the chain-
locker!”
A little hand stole into mine. I turned quickly.
Karamanèh stood beside me. I placed my arm about
her shoulders, drawing her close; and I blush to re.
late that all else was forgotten. .


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