The Return of Dr. Fu Manchu
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Sax Rohmer >> The Return of Dr. Fu Manchu
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"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," whispered 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-Manchu's activities. He lay quite flat, face downward; but the back
of his head was a shapeless blood-dotted mass, and a heavy stock-whip,
the butt end ghastly because of the blood and hair which clung to it,
lay beside him. I started back appalled as Smith caught my arm.
"It turned on its keeper!" he hissed in my ear. "I wounded it twice
from below, and you severed one arm; in its insensate fury, its
unreasoning malignity, it returned--and there lies its second
victim . . ."
"Then . . ."
"It's gone, Petrie! It has the strength of four men even now. Look!"
He stooped, and from the clenched left hand of the dead Burman,
extracted a piece of paper and opened it.
"Hold the lantern a moment," he said.
In the yellow light he glanced at the scrap of paper.
"As I expected--a leaf of Burke's notebook; it worked by scent." He
turned to me with an odd expression in his gray eyes. "I wonder what
piece of my personal property Fu-Manchu has pilfered," he said, "in
order to enable it to sleuth me?"
He met the gaze of the man holding the lantern.
"Perhaps you had better return to the house," he said, looking him
squarely in the eyes.
The other's face blanched.
"You don't mean, sir--you don't mean . . ."
"Brace up!" said Smith, laying his hand upon his shoulder. "Remember--
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.
"Weymouth 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
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.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE SILVER BUDDHA
Museum Street certainly did not seem a 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 wonderful eyes of Karamaneh 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 another shop at the Museum end,
commercial activities had ceased there. The door of a block of
residential 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 had seen before, and
whose nationality defied conjecture, 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 nonchalance as I could
summon to the operation, and began casually to inspect the varied
objects of interest loading the shelves and tables about me. I am
bound to confess that I retain no one definite impression of this
tour. Vases I handled, statuettes, Egyptian scarabs, bead necklaces,
illuminated missals, portfolios of old prints, jade ornaments,
bronzes, fragments of rare lace, early printed books, Assyrian
tablets, daggers, Roman rings, and a hundred other curiosities,
leisurely, and I trust with apparent interest, yet without forming the
slightest impression respecting any one of them.
Probably I employed myself in this way for half an hour or more, and
whilst my hands busied themselves among the stock of J. Salaman, my
mind was occupied entirely elsewhere. Furtively I was studying the
shopman himself, a human presentment of a 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 interrupted 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
amateurish; I had learnt nothing; I was unlikely to learn anything. 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 awaiting 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 yonder," 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?"
"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 Karamaneh was concealed somewhere in the building ruled
absolutely, and a theory respecting this silver image had taken
possession of my mind. Exactly what I expected 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 that 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.
Anxious as I had been to proceed a moment before, 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
I cannot conceive that any ordinary mortal 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
associated 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 particularly evident at the
moment that I crossed the threshold, but now, as I looked up at Dr.
Fu-Manchu, it lifted--revealing the eyes in all their emerald
greenness.
The idea of physical attack upon this incredible being seemed childish
--inadequate. But, following that first instant of stupefaction, I
forced myself to advance upon him.
A dull, crushing blow descended on the top of my skull, and I became
oblivious of all things.
My return to consciousness was accompanied by tremendous pains in my
head, whereby, from previous experience, I knew that a sandbag had
been used against me by some one in the shop, presumably by the
immobile shopman. This awakening was accompanied by none of those hazy
doubts respecting previous events and present surroundings which are
the usual symptoms of revival from sudden unconsciousness; even before
I opened my eyes, before I had more than a partial command of my
senses, I knew that, with my wrists handcuffed behind me, I lay in a
room which was also occupied by Dr. Fu-Manchu. This absolute certainty
of the Chinaman's presence was evidenced, not by my senses, but only
by an inner consciousness, and the same that always awoke into life at
the approach not only of Fu-Manchu in person but of certain of his
uncanny servants.
A faint perfume hung in the air about me; I do not mean that of any
essence or of any incense, but rather the smell which is suffused by
Oriental furniture, by Oriental draperies; the indefinable but
unmistakable perfume of the East.
Thus, London has a distinct smell of its own, and so has Paris, whilst
the difference between Marseilles and Suez, for instance, is even more
marked.
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 majority 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 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 another 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 venomous orange
color. Three flat tubes of light were so arranged as to cast violet
rays upward into the retort, 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 forgotten.
"I regret," came the sibilant voice, "that unpleasant 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 attempted 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 affords
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
retort--"I am conducting an experiment designed to convert you from
your misunderstanding, and to adjust 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 sibilantly. 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.
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