Daughter of Fu Manchu

Chapter Eleventh

DR. AMBER

"I can't blame myself," said Weymouth, staring disconsolately out of the window. "She's slipped through our fingers again. A real chip of the old block," he added. "It took a load off my mind, after the Limehouse raid, to hear that Nayland Smith had seen Fu Manchu himself, in person, in Paris--and lost him!..."

The "gypsy" caravan behind the big plan- tation which formed a western boundary to Sir Lionel's Norfolk place had been seized by a party of constabulary under Weymouth's command--and had proved to be empty. This had happened three days before, but it still rankled in the superintendent's mind.

"I can't hang on here indefinitely," he explained, "I'm badly needed in Cairo at the moment. The disappearance of Sir Denis and yourself was the real excuse for my leave, but now...."

His point was clear enough. Weymouth was a staunch friend, but he loved his job. He had come to England in pursuit of a clue which suggested that Nayland Smith and I had been smuggled into Europe. We were found. Duty called him back.

"It isn't your present job, I admit," said I; "but it's the tail end of an old one, after all!"

He turned and stared at me across the room. I was back at the Park Avenue looking after a hundred and one interests of the chief's which centred in London. He, with Rima, remained in Norfolk--where, now that Nayland Smith had left, he might count on peace. Of Nayland Smith's present move- ments I knew nothing.

"You've hit it!" Weymouth admitted. "I'd like to be in at the death."

Certainly it was a queer situation for him --for all of us. Dr. Fu Manchu, most formidable of all those greater criminals who from time to time disturb the world, was alive ... and his daughter, no poor second to this stupendous genius, had already proved that she was competent to form subject of debate in the councils of the highest.

Weymouth's expression struck me as ominous; and:

"The death is likely to be that of Nayland Smith," I said, "judging from our experience at Abbots Hold."

Weymouth nodded.

"He stands between her and all she aims for," he replied. "He's countered two of her first three moves and he's promised me word within the next hour. But"--he stared at me very grimly--"you and I, Greville, know more about the group called the Si Fan than most people outside it."

I laughed--somewhat hollowly, perhaps.

"Get back to Cairo," I advised. "It's prob- ably safer than London at the moment--for you."

Weymouth's sense of humour on such points always failed him. His blue eyes hard- ened; he literally glared at me; and:

"I never ran away from Dr. Fu Manchu," he replied. "If you think I'm going to run away from his daughter you're wrong."

At that I laughed again, and this time my laughter rang true. I punched the speaker playfully.

"Don't you know when I'm pulling your leg?" I asked. "I'd put my last shilling on your being here, job or no job, until the end of this thing is clearly in sight! "

"Oh!" said Weymouth, his naive smile softening the hard mask which had fallen when I had suggested his retiring to Cairo. "Well, I don't think you'd lose your money."

But when he had gone, I took his place at the window and stared down on the panorama of Piccadilly. I was thinking of Nayland Smith.... "He stands between her and all she aims for."... How true that was!

Yes, he held most of the strings. Fah Lo Suee had started with a heavy handicap. Ibrahim Bey occupied a prison cell in Brixton Prison. He would be tried and duly sentenced for attempted robbery with violence. The public would never leam the whole truth. But Ibrahim Bey might be counted out of the running. The Egyptian authorities, working in concert with the French in Syria, were looking for Sheikh Ismail; and the Mandarin Ki Ming would have to hide very cleverly to escape the vigilance of those who had been advised of his aims....

My phone bell rang. I turned and took up the receiver.

"Yes? "

"Is Mr. Shan Greville there? "

"Speaking."

The voice--that of a man who spoke perfect English but who was not an Englishman--sounded tauntingly familiar.

"My name will be known to you, I believe, Mr. Greville. I am called Dr. Amber."

Dr. Amber! The mysterious physician whose treatment had restored Sir Lionel-- whom I had to thank for my own recovery! "Owing to peculiar circumstances, which I hope to explain to you, I have hitherto been able to help only in a rather irregular way," he went on. "Because of this--and of the imminent danger to which I am exposed--I must make a somewhat odd request." "What is it? "

"It is this: All I have to tell you is at your disposal. But you must promise to treat myself as non-existent. I have approached you in this way because the life of Sir Denis Nayland Smith is threatened--to-night! My record backs my assurance that this is a friendly overture. Have I your promise? "

"Yes--certainly! "

"Good. It will be a short journey, Mr. Greville--not three minutes' walk. I am staying at Babylon House, Piccadilly; Flat Number 7. May I ask you to step across? You have ample time before dinner." "I'll come right away."

Dr. Amber! Who was Dr. Amber? Where did he fit into this intricate puzzle which had sidetracked so many lives? Whoever he might be, he had shown himself a friend, and without hesitation, but fired by an intense curiosity, I set out for Babylon House--a block of service flats nearly opposite Burlington Arcade.

A lift-man took me to the top floor and indicated a door on the right.. I stepped up to it and rang the bell.

The elevator was already descending before the door opened... and I saw before me the Chinese physician who had attended me in that green and gold room in Lime-house! Fear--incredulity--anger all must have been readable in my expression, when:

"You gave me your promise, Mr. Greville," said the China man, smiling. "I give you mine, if it is necessary, that you are safe and with a friend. Please come in."

2

The typical and scanty appointments of the apartment into which I was shown possessed a reassuring quality. From a high window with a narrow balcony I could see the entrance to Burlington Arcade and part of one wall of the Albany.

"Won't you sit down?" said my host, who wore morning dress and looked less charac- teristically Chinese than he had looked in white overalls.

I sat down.

A small writing-desk set before the window was littered with torn documents, and a longer table in the centre of the room bore stacks of newspapers. I saw the London Evening News, the Times of India, and the Chicago Tribune amongst this odd assort- ment. Certain paragraphs appeared to have been cut out with scissors. The floor was littered with oddments. I noticed other defi- nite evidences of a speedy outgoing. A very large steamer trunk bearing the initials L. K. S. in white letters stood strapped in a corner of the room.

"It is my purpose, Mr. Greville," said Dr. Amber, taking a seat near the desk and catching me steadily, "to explain certain matters which have been puzzling yourself and your friends. And perhaps in the first place, since I wish to be perfectly frank"--he glanced toward the big trunk--"I should tell you that 'Dr Amber' is a pseudonym. I am called Li King Su; I hold a medical degree of Canton; and I once had the pleasure of assisting Dr. Petrie in a very critical major operation. He will probably remember me.

"You are quite naturally labouring under the impression that I belong to the organisation controlled by the Lady Fah Lo Suee. This is not so. I belong to another, older, organisation...."

He stared at me intently. But I didn't interrupt him. I was considering that curious expression--"the Lady Fah Lo Suee. "

"I was--shall we say?--a spy in the house in which you first met me. The lady called Fah Lo Suee has now discovered the imposture, and--"

Again he paused, indicating the steamer trunk. "My usefulness is ended. I am a marked man, Mr. Greville. If I escape alive I shall be lucky. But let us talk of something else.... The Tomb of the Black Ape has proved something of a puzzle to Sir Denis Nayland Smith. The solution is simple:

A representative of that older organisation to which I have referred was present when Lafleur opened the place many years ago. By arrangement with that distinguished Egyptol- ogist, it was reclosed. Later--in fact, early in 1918--a prominent official of our ancient society, passing through Egypt, had reason to suspect that certain treasures in his possession might be discovered and detained by the British Authorities--for these were troubled times. He proceeded up the Nile and success- fully concealed them in this tomb--the secret of which had been preserved with just such an end in view...."

I suppose I must have known all along; but for some reason at this moment the iden- tity of "a representative of that older organi- sation" and "a prominent official of our ancient society" suddenly burst upon me with all the shock of novelty; and, meeting the glance of those inscrutable eyes which watched me so intently:

"You are speaking of Dr. Fu Manchu!" I said. Li King Su permitted himself a slight deprecatory gesture. "It is desirable," he replied, "that those of whom I speak should remain anonymous!"

But I continued to stare at him with a sort of horror. "By arrangement with that distin- guished Egyptologist," he had said smoothly.

Good God! What kind of "arrangement"! "It was the intention of the hider," he went on, "that those potent secrets should remain concealed for ever. The activities of Professor Zeitland and Sir Lionel Barton created an unforeseen situation. It was complicated by the action of the Lady Fah Lo Suee. She had recently learned what was hidden there, but she was ignorant of how to recover it.... Professor Zeitland imparted his knowledge to her--then came Sir Lionel Barton...."

He paused again, significantly.

"We moved too late, Mr. Greville. An old schism in our ranks had made an enemy of one of the most brilliant and dangerous men in China--the exalted Mandarin Ki Ming. He gave the Lady Fah Lo Suee his aid. But we wasted no more time. I succeeded in gaining admittance to their councils. It was by means of their organisation that I intercepted Dr. Petrie's telegram to Sir Brian Hawkins. You know the use which I made of my knowledge.

"Your present English Government is blind. You will lose Egypt as you have lost India. A great federation of Eastern States affiliated with Russia--a new Russia--is destined to take the place once held by the British Empire. You have one chance to recover...."

The man's personality was beginning to get me. I had forgotten that I sat, inert, listening to a self-confessed servant of Dr. Fu Manchu: I only knew that he was raising veils beyond which I longed to peer.

"What is it?" I asked.

And, as I spoke a chill--not figurative but literal--turned me cold. I had detected Li King Su in the act of glancing toward a partially opened door which led to the bedroom....

Definitely someone was listening!

As if conscious of the fact that he had betrayed himself, "Dr. Amber" went on immediately:

"A counter alliance! But we are getting out of our depth, Mr. Greville. To return to more personal matters: The schemes of the Lady Fah Lo Suee were not approved by us. The authority she has stolen must be restored to those who know how to wield it. In other words, Sir Denis Nayland Smith's aim and our own are identical--at the moment. But he is marked down! "

"He knows it! "

"He may know it--but to-night he is walking into a trap! Since he left Norfolk-- where he failed to arrest the prime mover-- you have lost touch with him. He is following up a clue discovered by Inspector Yale. It is a false clue... a snare. He stands in the way: she is afraid to move until he is silenced.

"Here"--he handed me a slip of paper --"is the address to which he is going to- night. Death waits for him."

I glanced at the writing.

"The garden of this house adjoins the Regent Canal," Li King Su went on. "And it is intended that Sir Denis's body shall be found in the Canal in the morning! Here"-- he passed a second slip--"is the address at which Sir Denis is hiding."

The second address was that of a Dr. Murray in a southwest suburb.

"Dr. Murray bought Dr. Petrie's practice," the even voice continued, "when the latter went to Egypt. I must warn you against any attempt to communicate by tele- phone. The Lady Fah Lo Suee has a spy in the house! Take what steps you please, Mr. Greville, but move quickly! For my own part, I leave London in an hour. I can do no more. It is unnecessary to remind you of our bargain."

3

At the very moment that I entered the lift, that occult knowledge of being watched left me. It was the same--but intensified--as that which had warned me in Cairo, and later on the road to el-Kharga. Li King Su, on acquaintance, was a remarkable man. But some vastly greater personality had been concealed in that inner room. I could not forget that Dr. Fu Manchu had been seen a stone's throw from Babylon House!

Could I trust Li King Su?

Simple enough to test his statements. I had only to take a taxi to Dr. Murray's address.

But, as I thought, as I walked out into Piccadilly, a mistake now might carry unimaginable consequences; better to consult Weymouth or Yale before I committed an irreparable blunder.

Dusk was falling. I saw that the lamps in Burlington Arcade had been lighted as well as those in the Piccadilly Arcade which forms a sort of abbreviated continuation of the older bazaar and breaks through to Jermyn Street. Deep in thought I passed the entrance to the latter. A French sedan was drawn up beside the pavement.

I was level with it when an exclamation of annoyance checked me sharply--and just prevented my collision with a woman who, crossing before me, had evidently been making for the car.

She was a fashionable figure, wearing a fur-trimmed coat, and a short veil attached to her close-fitting hat quite obscured her features. She carried several parcels, one of which she had dropped almost at my feet.

Steeping, I picked it up--a paper-wrapped package fastened with green tape and apparently containing very light purchases. The chauffeur sprang down and opened the door of the car, as:

"Thank you very much," said the laden lady. "Will you be so kind as to hand it in to me?"

She entered the car. I followed with the dropped package and bent forward into the dark interior. Through the opposite windows I saw the sign above a popular restaurant suddenly become illuminated. I detected a damnably familiar perfume....

I was enveloped. I felt a sudden paralysing pressure in my spine--a muscular arm levered me into the car... and I realized that I had been garroted in Piccadilly, amid hundreds of passers-by and in sight of my hotel!

4

I shot up from green depths in which I had been submerged for an immeasurable time. I had dived into a deep lake, I thought, and had become entangled in clinging weeds which sprang from its bed. I could not free my limbs; I knew that I was drowning--that never again should I see the sun and the blue sky above....

Then, the clasp of those octopus tentacles was relaxed. And I shot to the surface like a cork....

Green!... Everything about me was green! What had happened? Where was I?

Great heavens! I was back in Limehouse! ... But no--this place was green and gold, but smaller--much smaller than the room of my long captivity.

It was a miniature room--something was radically wrong with it. There were tow windows, draped in those heavy gold curtains which I remembered; a tracing of green figures was brushed across the gold. There was a tall lacquer cabinet and upon it stood a jade image of Kali... tiny, minute. There were flat green doors and a green carpet; golden rugs. An amber lamp gave green light. Upon a black divan was a second, larger figure of Kali... as large as a carnival doll.

But, no! This figure resembled Kali only in her features:

she wore a green robe and high-heeled black shoes. In one slender hand, a soft hand nurtured in luxury, was a long cigarette holder. I could see the smoke from the burning cigarette.... A doll--but a living doll! The picture grew smaller yet. The doll became so tiny that I could no longer discern her features. I was a giant in a microscopic room!

And then--the colours became audible! "I am green" said the carpet. "We are gold," the miniature curtains replied....

Raising both hands I clutched my head! I was mad! I knew it--because I wanted to laugh!

The room began to increase in size! From the dimensions of a doll's house fashioned by gnomes it swelled to those of a gigantic palace!... I was a mere fly in an apartment which could scarcely have found ground space in Trafalgar Square!

But, now--I recognized that green- draped figure on the black divan. It was Fah Lo Suee!

The mighty roof, higher than that of any mosque, of any cathedral in the world, began to descend: the walls closed in... huge pieces of furniture were pushed towards me. Fah Lo Suee towered above my shrinking body, her monstrous cigarette sending up a column of smoke like that of a sacrifice....

I cried out... and saw the cry!

"God help me!"

It issued from my lips in squat green letters! I closed my eyes, and:

"So you are awake, Shan?" said a bell-like voice.

But I was afraid to raise my eyelids.

"Look at me. You are all right now...."

I looked.

My head was swimming and every muscle in my body ached--but the room had taken on normal proportions. It was a large room, filled with modern furniture, except that its scheme was severely green and gold and that there were Oriental pieces placed about.

Fah Lo Suee watched me... but the jade- green eyes were hard.

"You are better," she continued. "Cannabis indica produces strange delusions-- but as we use it, there is no drug so swift to serve our purpose."

I considered the situation. I was seated in a big armchair facing the divan upon which Fah Lo Suee reclined indolently watching me. The damnable fumes of the drug began to leave my brain. Fah Lo Suee, slender, sinuous, insolent, was a woman--but a deadly enemy. I knew what Nayland Smith would have done!

Preparatory to a spring, I drew my feet together... a certain distance. Then-- My ankles were fastened to the chair! Fah Lo Suee dropped ash from her yellow cigarette into a copper bowl upon the low table beside her. I watched the elegant, voluptuous movements of that feline hand with a queer sense of novelty. What a tigress she was!

"The chief purpose of my visit to England," she said, speaking as though nothing unusual existed between hostess and visitor, "was defeated by Sir Denis Nayland Smith. My further plans are in abeyance-- pending his suppression."

My head ached as though my brain were on fire, but:

"He is by way of being rather a nuisance?" I suggested viciously.

Fah Lo Suee smiled, a smile of contempt.

"I could have dealt with him--alone. But one of my own people proved treacherous. In your pocket, Shan, you had two addresses. One was that of Dr. Murray--in whose home your brilliant friend is hiding; the other was that of this house."

She continued to smile--and she continued to watch me. I tried to conquer my wandering ideas. I tried to hate her. But her eyes caressed me, and I was afraid--horribly afraid of this witch-woman who had the uncanny power which Homer gave to Circe, of stealing men's souls.

If I could trust Li King Su, Nayland Smith was coming here--to this house-- where death awaited!

And now I was powerless to stop him! "Li King Su was a traitor." Through the beats of a sort of drumming which had started in my brain I heard the bell-like voice. "No doubt he counted on a great reward."

She ceased speaking and clapped her hands sharply. That gigantic Negro who had been the door-keeper in el-Kharga, and who had overpowered me at the meeting of the Seven, came in!

Fah Lo Suee addressed him rapidly. She spoke in a sort of bastard Arabic--the Nubian dialect; and I found time for wonder. I knew North Africa from the inside; but I had never learned that queer lingo of the Nubians. Yet this woman--who was Chinese--used it familiarly!

The Nubian went out. Fah Lo Suee removed the stump of a yellow cigarette from her long holder, selected a fresh one from a cloisonne box, and fitted it into place. She ignited it with an enamelled lighter.

A dragging sound came.

I saw the Nubian pulling a heavy trunk through the door and across the carpet. This trunk was vaguely familiar. Then, on top, I saw white painted initials: L.K.S.

The Negro removed the straps and threw the lid back.

"Look," said Fah Lo Suee. "He was a traitor."

Li King Su lay in his own trunk--dead!

5

Not until I found myself aloud could I think my own thoughts, uninfluenced by the promptings of those jade-green eyes. But when the door closed behind Fah Lo Suee, I began desperately to weigh my chances.

Nayland Smith was doomed! This was the thought which came uppermost in my mind. The clue upon which he was working, and which would lead him that night to this house, was a false clue--a bait! And that our enemies did not spare those who crossed their path I had learned.

The trunk had been dragged from the room.... But I could still see, in imagination, that strangled grin on the dead man's face.

I tried to reconstruct the details of our interview in Babylon House. Had I detected, or only deluded myself that I had detected, a swift exchange of signs between Li King Su and someone concealed in an inner room? Had I merely imagined the presence of this other?... Or had I been right in supposing someone to be there but wrong in my natural deduction that he was a friend of the Chinese doctor?

Had the hidden man murdered Li King Su and caused his body to be removed in the big trunk?...

"The garden of this house adjoins the Regent Canal," he had said.

The Regent Canal! A gloomy whispering waterway, now little used, and entering a long tunnel somewhere near this very spot where I found myself a prisoner!

I bent forward to inspect the fastenings which confined my ankles... I was checked.

In the mad fantasies attendant upon my recovering from the effects of hashish, and afterwards under the evil thrall of Fah Lo Suee, I had failed to note a significant fact.

A rope was around my waist, binding me to the heavy chair!

True, my hands were free, but I could neither reach my ankles nor the knots fastening the line about my body, which were somewhere under the back of the chair.

A coffee-table on which were whisky and soda and cigarettes stood conveniently near. I was about to take a cigarette... when I hesi- tated. Reaching to my pocket I took out my own case and with a lighter which lay on the table started a cigarette.

At all costs I must keep my head. Upon me, alone, rested the fate of Nayland Smith-- perhaps the fate of a million more!

I smoked awhile, sitting deliberately relaxed, and thinking... thinking. My bonds occasioned me no inconvenience provided I remained inactive. Short of a painful, tortoise-like progress across the room, drag- ging the heavy chair with me, it became increasingly clear that to move was a physical impossibility.

The house was silent--very silent. Those heavy gold draperies seemed to exclude all sound.

For a long time I sat there smoking cigarette after cigarette. Then I heard something.

One of the two doors opened.

The huge Nubian came in, carrying a tray upon which were sandwiches and fruit. He set the tray on the table beside me. His girth of shoulder was amazing; and as he stooped he gave me a wicked glance of his small, sunken, bloodshot eyes. Without a word, he went out again, quietly closing the door. Was I being watched? Having avoided the cigarettes and the whisky, was this a further attempt to dope me? I considered the facts....

What had they to gain? I was utterly at their mercy. Secret poisoning was unnecessary.

I ate a sandwich and drank a glass of whisky and soda. Silence....

The figure of Kali on the lacquer cabinet engaged my attention. I found myself studying it closely--so closely that I began to imagine it was moving....

Kali--symbol of this hellish organisation, the Si Fan into whose power I had fallen....

The door opened, and Fah Lo Suee came in.

"I am glad to see that you have called on your philosophy," she said. "You will need it. Unless you are prepared to face another injection of F. Katalepsis you must give me your parole for half an hour...."

She stood in the open doorway, one slender hand, its polished nails gleaming like gems, resting on her hip. Her eyes were mercilessly hard.

I can't say what it was in her bearing that told me; but I knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that all was not going smoothly with Madame Ingomar.

"Naturally, I must decline. "

"You mean it? "

"Definitely."

She smiled. Her passionate lips betrayed a weakness which was not to be read in those jade-green eyes. She clapped her hands. The big emerald which she wore on an index finger glittered evilly.

The huge Nubian entered. Fah Lo Suee spoke rapidly, and he crossed to me.

"Don't resist," she said softly. "It would be merely melodrama. He could strangle you with one hand. Do as I ask. I am being merciful."

My wrists were firmly knotted behind me. Those lashings which held me to the heavy chair were cast off. Then the black picked me up as one might raise a child and carried me out of the room!

"In half an hour," said Fah Lo Suee, "I will free you again-- and we will talk."

Clenching my teeth grimly--for curses, execrations, torrents of poisonous, futile words, bubbled up in me--I was borne across an elegantly furnished lobby. Everywhere I detected an ultra-modem note, in spite of the presence of old Oriental pieces.

Upstairs I was carried, and into a dark little room opening off the first floor landing. I was laid down, prone, on a narrow settee. The Nubian went out and locked the door....

Trussed as I found myself, it was no easy matter to regain my feet. But I managed it, and stood staring around me in semi-dark- ness. The only light, I saw, came through a window which, on the outside, was reinforced with iron bars. And this light was the light of the moon.

The place seemed to be a small writing- room. There was a bureau at the end near the window, closed, a square Cubist-looking chair before it. The black-and-gold walls were bare. There was a closed bookcase, a low stool of Arab workmanship, and the narrow settee upon which I had been placed.

I contrived to get to the window.

It overlooked a neglected garden... and at the end of the garden I saw the Canal! Dropping into the chair, I began to taste that most bitter of all draughts which poor humanity knows--despair. I remembered Nayland Smith's story of the house at el- Kharga:... "A Buddhist-like resignation was threatening me more and more...."

Nayland Smith!

Whilst I sat here, a fiery furnace raging within, but nevertheless useless as any snared rabbit, he was walking into a death trap! She would have no mercy. I had seen how she dealt with those who crossed her: I had read his sentence in her glittering eyes. This time, there would be no "sporting gesture." And I... I should awake somewhere in China, as a male concubine of this Eastern Circe! I bent down, resting my throbbing head on the bureau....

Then came sounds.

Somewhere a bell rang. There were voices. I heard movements--I divined that some heavy burden had been carried in.

The sounds died away. Silence fell again.

How long I sat there, in a dreadful apathy, I had no means of judging. But suddenly the door was unlocked, and I started up.

Fah Lo Suee came in, carrying a long- bladed knife.

6

She stood watching me.

"Well?" I said. "What are you waiting for?"

She smiled, that one-sided voluptuous smile which was never reflected in her eyes; then:

"I am waiting," she replied--her bell-like voice very soft-- "to try to guess what you will do when I release you."

She came forward, bent so that her small, shapely head almost rested on my shoulder, and cut the lashings which confined my wrists. Her left hand grasped my arm as she stooped. Dropping to her knees, with two strokes of the keen blade she cut away the ropes binding my ankles.

Then she stood upright, very near to me, and met my stare challengingly.

"Well?" she said in mockery.

My first impulse--for I had been thinking about Nayland Smith almost continuously-- was to be read in my glance.

"It can never happen twice to me, Shan," said Fah Lo Suee.

She called a name.

The door opened--and I saw the giant Nubian looking in.

Fah Lo Suee gave a brief order. The Negro retired, closing the door.

"Does no more subtle method occur to you?" she asked, her voice softer than ever. "I am as ready to be lied to as any other woman, Shan--by the right man--if he only tells his lies sweetly."

And, face to face with this evilly beautiful woman, know ing, as I knew too well, that my own life was at stake, that possibly I could even bargain for that of Nayland Smith, I asked myself--why not? With her own lips she had reminded me of that old adage, "all's fair in love and war." With her it was love-- or the only sort of love she knew; with me it was war. Perhaps, on a scruple, hung the fate of nations!

She drew a step nearer. The perfumed aura of her personality began to envelop me. Choice was being filched from the bargain. Those mad urgings which I had known in the green-gold room in Limehouse began to beat upon my brain.

I clenched my fists. I could possibly but the safety of the Western world with a kiss!

Tensed fingers relaxed. In another instant my arms would have been around that slender, yielding body; when:

"Greville!" came a distant cry. "Greuille!"

And I knew the voice! I sprang back from Fah Lo Suee as from a poised cobra. Her face changed. It was as though a mask had been dropped. I saw Kali --the patronne of assassins....

She snapped her fingers.

Before I could move further, collect my scattered thoughts, the Nubian was on me! I got in one straight right, perfectly timed. It didn't even check him....

As his Herculean grip deprived me of all power of movement, Fah Lo Suee turned and went out. She hissed an order.

The Nubian threw me face downward on the settee. Never, in the whole of my experi- ence of rough-houses, had I been so handled. I was helpless as a rat in the grip of a bull terrier. My knowledge of boxing as well as a smattering of jiu-jitsu were about as useful as botany!

I honestly believe he could have broken any normally strong man across his knee.

One of the ghastly Burmans, with the mark of Kali on his. forehead, came to assist. I was trussed up like a chicken, tossed on to the Negro's mighty shoulder, and carried from the room.

This was the end.

I had played my hand badly. On me the ultimate issue had rested... and I had failed. That swift revulsion, at the sound of my name--that sudden, irrational reversion to type--had sealed the doom of... how many?

Helpless, a mere inanimate bundle, I was carried down to the room where the image of Kali sat on a lacquer cabinet.

The Nubian threw me roughly on the divan, so that I had no view beyond that of the lacquer cabinet and the wall against which it stood. He withdrew. I heard the closing of a door.

I turned....

In the big, carved chair which formerly I had occupied. Nayland Smith was firmly lashed! There were bloodstains on his collar.

"Sir Denis! How did you know I was here?"

He glanced down at the coffee-table.

"You left you cigarette case!" he replied. "I shouted for you--but a dacoif--he indi- cated the bloodstains--"silenced me."

I stared at him. No words came.

"Weymouth and Yale," he went on, and the tone of his voice struck the death-knell of lingering hope, "are watching the wrong house. I have made my last mistake, Greville."