THE CLIMBER
Our 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 grey light of the morning, our own quest
concluded, Inspector Weymouth returned to report that the girl,
Kâramanèh, had thrown him off the scent.
Again he stood before me, the big, burly friend of old and dreadful
days: a little greyer above the temples, which I set down for a record
of former horrors; 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 grey light--"I believe Fu-Manchu's lair
is somewhere near the former opium-den of Shen-Yan--'Singapore
Charlie'!"
Smith nodded.
"We will turn our attention in that direction," he replied, "at a very
early date."
Inspector Weymouth looked down at the body of Abel Slattin.
"How was it done?" he asked softly.
"Clumsily for Fu-Manchu," I replied. "A snake was introduced into the
house by some means--"
"By Kâramanèh!" rapped Smith.
"Very possibly by Kâramanèh," I continued firmly. "The thing has
escaped us."
"My own idea," said Smith, "is that it was concealed about his
clothing. When he fell by the open door it glided out of the house. We
must have the garden searched thoroughly by daylight."
"_He_"--Weymouth glanced at that which lay upon the floor--"must be
moved; but otherwise we can leave the place untouched, clear out the
servants, and lock the house up!"
"I have already given orders to that effect," answered Smith. He spoke
wearily and with a note of conscious defeat in his voice. "Nothing has
been disturbed"--he swept his arm around comprehensively--"papers and
so forth you can examine at leisure."
Presently we quitted that house upon which the fateful Chinaman had
set his seal, as the suburb was awakening to a new day. The clank of
milk-cans was my final impression of the avenue to which a dreadful
minister of death had come at the bidding of the death lord. We left
Inspector Weymouth in charge and returned to my rooms, scarcely
exchanging a word upon the way.
Nayland Smith, ignoring my entreaties, composed himself for slumber in
the white cane chair in my study. About noon he retired to the
bath-room and, returning, made a pretence to breakfast; then resumed
his seat in the cane armchair. Carter reported in the afternoon, but
his report was merely formal. Returning from my round of professional
visits at half-past five, I found Nayland Smith in the same position;
and so the day waned into evening, and dusk fell uneventfully.
In the corner of the big room by the empty fireplace, Nayland Smith
lay, his long, lean frame extended in the white cane chair. A tumbler,
from which two straws protruded, stood by his right elbow, and a
perfect continent of tobacco smoke lay between us, wafted towards the
door by the draught from an open window. He had littered the hearth
with matches and tobacco ash, being the most untidy smoker I had ever
met; and save for his frequent rappings out of his pipe bowl and
perpetual striking of matches, he had shown no sign of activity for
the past hour. Collarless and wearing an old tweed jacket, he had
spent the evening, as he had spent the day, in the cane chair, only
quitting it for some ten minutes, or less, to toy with dinner.
My several attempts at conversation had elicited nothing but growls;
therefore, as dusk descended, having dismissed my few patients, I
busied myself 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 pretence of continuing
my labours, 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 Kâramanèh visited him on the evening of his death, but you
must be perfectly well aware that even if she had been arrested, no
jury could convict her."
Smith resumed his restless pacings up and down.
"You are very useful to me, Petrie," he rapped; "as a counsel for the
defence 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 circumstance illuminating,
also!"
"Did the officer see this person?"
"No; he only heard him. It was some one who endeavoured to enter by
the bath-room 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--it matters not how long--until that attempt is
repeated. Quite obviously, Petrie, we have overlooked 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 career has left a
_clue_!"