Nayland Smith returned from the telephone. 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 himself 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 Amharun, a Semitic tribe allied to the Falashas, 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 descent. Apart from their custom of eating meat cut from
living beasts, they are accursed because of their alleged association
with the Cynocephalus hamadryas (Sacred Baboon). I, myself, was taken
to a hut on the banks of the Hawash and shown a creature... whose
predominant trait was an unreasoning malignity toward... and a ferocious
tenderness for the society of its furry brethren. Its powers of scent
were fully equal to those of a bloodhound, 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.
“I ran into Karamaneh,” 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 dangerous 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?”
“Karamaneh 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 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! Remembering 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 looking 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
having 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 thoroughfare (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 proceeded to relight it,
whilst, with my eyes lowered, I continued to drum upon the table.
“This boy took her some tea later in the afternoon,” he continued,
“and apparently found her in a more placid frame of mind. I 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 certain 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 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 marks 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 myself of that.”
“But, my dear man!” I cried, “you are eliminating 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 understood 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
without delay. In this manner I got on the track at last, and learned,
beyond the possibility of doubt, that the 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 personal 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 particulars of this surprising event
in Rangoon which properly 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, largely because
I feared his ridicule; but I had by no means forgotten that I had seen,
or had strongly imagined that I had seen, Karamaneh--that beautiful
anomaly, who (in modern London) asserted herself to be a slave--in the
shop of an antique dealer not a hundred yards from the British Museum!
A theory was forming in my brain, which I was burningly anxious to put
to the test. I remembered how, two years before, I had met Karamaneh
near to this same spot; and I had heard Inspector Weymouth assert
positively that Fu-Manchu’s headquarters were no longer in the East
End, as of yore. There seemed to me to be a distinct probability that a
suitable center had been established for his reception in this place, so
much less likely to be suspected by the authorities. Perhaps I attached
too great a value to what may have been a delusion; perhaps my theory
rested upon no more solid foundation than the belief that I had seen
Karamaneh in the shop of the curio dealer. If her appearance there
should prove to have been phantasmal, the structure of my theory would
be shattered at its base. To-night I should test my premises, and upon
the result of my investigations determine my future action.