FU-MANCHU
Many poignant recollections are mine, more of them bitter than sweet;
but no one of them all can compare with the memory of that moment of
my awakening.
Weymouth was supporting me, and my throat still tingled from the
effects of the brandy which he had forced between my teeth from his
flask. My heart was beating irregularly; my mind yet partly inert.
With something compound of horror and hope I lay staring at one who
was anxiously bending over the Inspector's shoulder, watching me.
_It was Nayland Smith._
A whole hour of silence seemed to pass, ere speech became possible;
then--
"Smith!" I whispered, "are you ..."
Smith grasped my outstretched, questing hand, grasped it firmly,
warmly; and I saw his gray eyes to be dim in the light of the several
lanterns around us.
"Am I alive?" he said. "Dear old Petrie! Thanks to you, I am not only
alive, but free!"
My head was buzzing like a hive of bees, but I managed, aided by
Weymouth, to struggle to my feet. Muffled sounds of shouting and
scuffling reached me. Two men in the uniform of the Thames Police were
carrying a limp body in at the low doorway communicating with the
infernal Joy-Shop.
"It's Fletcher," said Weymouth, noting the anxiety expressed in my
face. "His missing lady friend has given him a nasty wound, but he'll
pull round all right."
"Thank God for that," I replied, clutched my aching head. "I don't
know what weapon she employed in my case, but it narrowly missed
achieving her purpose."
My eyes, throughout, were turned upon Smith, for his presence there,
still seemed to me miraculous.
"Smith," I said, "for Heaven's sake enlighten me! I never doubted
that you were ..."
"In the wooden chest!" concluded Smith grimly, "Look!"
He pointed to something that lay behind me. I turned, and saw the box
which had occasioned me such anguish. The top had been wrenched off
and the contents exposed to view. It was filled with a variety of gold
ornaments, cups, vases, silks, and barbaric brocaded raiment; it might
well have contained the loot of a cathedral. Inspector Weymouth
laughed gruffly at my surprise.
"What is it?" I asked, in a voice of amazement.
"It's the treasure of the Si-Fan, I presume," rapped Smith. "Where it
has come from and where it was going to, it must be my immediate
business to ascertain."
"Then you ..."
"I was lying, bound and gagged, upon one of the upper shelves in the
opium-den! I heard you and Fletcher arrive. I saw you pass through
later with that she-devil who drove the cab to-day ..."
"Then the cab ..."
"The windows were fastened, unopenable, and some anaesthetic was
injected into the interior through a tube--that speaking-tube. I know
nothing further, except that our plans must have leaked out in some
mysterious fashion. Petrie, my suspicions point to high quarters. The
Si-Fan score thus far, for unless the search now in progress brings
it to light, we must conclude that they have the brass coffer."
He was interrupted by a sudden loud crying of his name.
"Mr. Nayland Smith!" came from somewhere within the Joy-Shop. "This
way, sir!"
Off he went, in his quick, impetuous manner, whilst I stood there,
none too steadily, wondering what discovery this outcry portended.
I had not long to wait. Out by the low doorway come Smith, a grimly
triumphant smile upon his face, carrying the missing brass coffer!
He set it down upon the planking before me.
"John Ki," he said, "who was also on the missing list, had dragged
the thing out of the cellar where it was hidden, and in another minute
must have slipped away with it. Detective Deacon saw the light shining
through a crack in the floor. I shall never forget the look John gave
us when we came upon him, as, lamp in hand, he bent over the precious
chest."
"Shall you open it now?"
"No." He glanced at me oddly. "I shall have it valued in the morning
by Messrs. Meyerstein."
He was keeping something back; I was sure of it.
"Smith," I said suddenly, "the man with the limp! I heard him in the
place where you were confined! Did you ..."
Nayland Smith clicked his teeth together sharply, looking straightly
and grimly into my eyes.
"I _saw_ him!" he replied slowly; "and unless the effects of the
anaesthetic had not wholly worn off ..."
"Well!" I cried.
"The man with the limp is _Dr. Fu-Manchu!_"