The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu (6 page)

By some subterranean duct the foul place was fed from the
Thames. By that duct, with the outgoing tide, my body would pass,
in the wake of Mason, Cadby, and many another victim!

Rusty iron rungs were affixed to one of the walls communicating
with a trap-but the bottom three were missing!

Brighter and brighter grew the awesome light the light of what
should be my funeral pyre-reddening the oily water and adding a new
dread to the whispering, clammy horror of the pit. But something it
showed me… a projecting beam a few feet above the water… and
directly below the iron ladder!

"Merciful Heaven!" I breathed. "Have I the strength?"

A desire for laughter claimed me with sudden, all but
irresistible force. I knew what it portended and fought it
down-grimly, sternly.

My garments weighed upon me like a suit of mail; with my chest
aching dully, my veins throbbing to bursting, I forced tired
muscles to work, and, every stroke an agony, approached the beam.
Nearer I swam… nearer. Its shadow fell black upon the water, which
now had all the seeming of a pool of blood. Confused sounds-a
remote uproar-came to my ears. I was nearly spent… I was in the
shadow of the beam! If I could throw up one arm…

A shrill scream sounded far above me!

"Petrie! Petrie!" (That voice must be Smith's!) "Don't touch the
beam! For God's sake DON'T TOUCH THE BEAM! Keep afloat another few
seconds and I can get to you!"

Another few seconds! Was that possible?

I managed to turn, to raise my throbbing head; and I saw the
strangest sight which that night yet had offered.

Nayland Smith stood upon the lowest iron rung… supported by the
hideous, crook-backed Chinaman, who stood upon the rung above!

"I can't reach him!"

It was as Smith hissed the words despairingly that I looked
up-and saw the Chinaman snatch at his coiled pigtail and pull it
off! With it came the wig to which it was attached; and the ghastly
yellow mask, deprived of its fastenings, fell from position! "Here!
Here! Be quick! Oh! be quick! You can lower this to him! Be quick!
Be quick!"

A cloud of hair came falling about the slim shoulders as the
speaker bent to pass this strange lifeline to Smith; and I think it
was my wonder at knowing her for the girl whom that day I had
surprised in Cadby's rooms which saved my life.

For I not only kept afloat, but kept my gaze upturned to that
beautiful, flushed face, and my eyes fixed upon hers-which were
wild with fear… for me!

Smith, by some contortion, got the false queue into my grasp,
and I, with the strength of desperation, by that means seized hold
upon the lowest rung. With my friend's arm round me I realized that
exhaustion was even nearer than I had supposed. My last distinct
memory is of the bursting of the floor above and the big burning
joist hissing into the pool beneath us. Its fiery passage, striated
with light, disclosed two sword blades, riveted, edges up along the
top of the beam which I had striven to reach.

"The severed fingers-" I said; and swooned.

How Smith got me through the trap I do not know-nor how we made
our way through the smoke and flames of the narrow passage it
opened upon. My next recollection is of sitting up, with my
friend's arm supporting me and Inspector Ryman holding a glass to
my lips.

A bright glare dazzled my eyes. A crowd surged about us, and a
clangor and shouting drew momentarily nearer.

"It's the engines coming," explained Smith, seeing my
bewilderment. "Shen-Yan's is in flames. It was your shot, as you
fell through the trap, broke the oil-lamp."

"Is everybody out?"

"So far as we know."

"Fu-Manchu?"

Smith shrugged his shoulders.

"No one has seen him. There was some door at the back-"

"Do you think he may-"

"No," he said tensely. "Not until I see him lying dead before me
shall I believe it."

Then memory resumed its sway. I struggled to my feet.

"Smith, where is she?" I cried. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," he answered.

"She's given us the slip, Doctor," said Inspector Weymouth, as a
fire-engine came swinging round the corner of the narrow lane. "So
has Mr. Singapore Charlie-and, I'm afraid, somebody else. We've got
six or eight all-sorts, some awake and some asleep, but I suppose
we shall have to let 'em go again. Mr. Smith tells me that the girl
was disguised as a Chinaman. I expect that's why she managed to
slip away."

I recalled how I had been dragged from the pit by the false
queue, how the strange discovery which had brought death to poor
Cadby had brought life to me, and I seemed to remember, too, that
Smith had dropped it as he threw his arm about me on the ladder.
Her mask the girl might have retained, but her wig, I felt certain,
had been dropped into the water.

It was later that night, when the brigade still were playing
upon the blackened shell of what had been Shen-Yan's opium-shop,
and Smith and I were speeding away in a cab from the scene of God
knows how many crimes, that I had an idea.

"Smith," I said, "did you bring the pigtail with you that was
found on Cadby?"

"Yes. I had hoped to meet the owner."

"Have you got it now?"

"No. I met the owner."

I thrust my hands deep into the pockets of the big pea-jacket
lent to me by Inspector Ryman, leaning back in my corner.

"We shall never really excel at this business," continued
Nayland Smith. "We are far too sentimental. I knew what it meant to
us, Petrie, what it meant to the world, but I hadn't the heart. I
owed her your life-I had to square the account."

Night fell on Redmoat. I glanced from the window at the nocturne
in silver and green which lay beneath me. To the west of the
shrubbery, with its broken canopy of elms and beyond the copper
beech which marked the center of its mazes, a gap offered a glimpse
of the Waverney where it swept into a broad. Faint bird-calls
floated over the water. These, with the whisper of leaves, alone
claimed the ear.

Ideal rural peace, and the music of an English summer evening;
but to my eyes, every shadow holding fantastic terrors; to my ears,
every sound a signal of dread. For the deathful hand of Fu-Manchu
was stretched over Redmoat, at any hour to loose strange, Oriental
horrors upon its inmates.

"Well," said Nayland Smith, joining me at the window, "we had
dared to hope him dead, but we know now that he lives!"

The Rev. J. D. Eltham coughed nervously, and I turned, leaning
my elbow upon the table, and studied the play of expression upon
the refined, sensitive face of the clergyman.

"You think I acted rightly in sending for you, Mr. Smith?"

Nayland Smith smoked furiously.

"Mr. Eltham," he replied, "you see in me a man groping in the
dark. I am to-day no nearer to the conclusion of my mission than
upon the day when I left Mandalay. You offer me a clew; I am here.
Your affair, I believe, stands thus: A series of attempted
burglaries, or something of the kind, has alarmed your household.
Yesterday, returning from London with your daughter, you were both
drugged in some way and, occupying a compartment to yourselves, you
both slept. Your daughter awoke, and saw someone else in the
carriage-a yellow-faced man who held a case of instruments in his
hands."

"Yes; I was, of course, unable to enter into particulars over
the telephone. The man was standing by one of the windows. Directly
he observed that my daughter was awake, he stepped towards
her."

"What did he do with the case in his hands?"

"She did not notice-or did not mention having noticed. In fact,
as was natural, she was so frightened that she recalls nothing
more, beyond the fact that she strove to arouse me, without
succeeding, felt hands grasp her shoulders-and swooned."

"But someone used the emergency cord, and stopped the
train."

"Greba has no recollection of having done so."

"Hm! Of course, no yellow-faced man was on the train. When did
you awake?"

"I was aroused by the guard, but only when he had repeatedly
shaken me."

"Upon reaching Great Yarmouth you immediately called up Scotland
Yard? You acted very wisely, sir. How long were you in China?"

Mr. Eltham's start of surprise was almost comical.

"It is perhaps not strange that you should be aware of my
residence in China, Mr. Smith," he said; "but my not having
mentioned it may seem so. The fact is"-his sensitive face flushed
in palpable embarrassment-"I left China under what I may term an
episcopal cloud. I have lived in retirement ever since.
Unwittingly-I solemnly declare to you, Mr. Smith, unwittingly-I
stirred up certain deep-seated prejudices in my endeavors to do my
duty-my duty. I think you asked me how long I was in China? I was
there from 1896 until 1900-four years."

"I recall the circumstances, Mr. Eltham," said Smith, with an
odd note in his voice. "I have been endeavoring to think where I
had come across the name, and a moment ago I remembered. I am happy
to have met you, sir."

The clergyman blushed again like a girl, and slightly inclined
his head, with its scanty fair hair.

"Has Redmoat, as its name implies, a moat round it? I was unable
to see in the dusk."

"It remains. Redmoat-a corruption of Round Moat-was formerly a
priory, disestablished by the eighth Henry in 1536." His pedantic
manner was quaint at times. "But the moat is no longer flooded. In
fact, we grow cabbages in part of it. If you refer to the strategic
strength of the place"-he smiled, but his manner was embarrassed
again-"it is considerable. I have barbed wire fencing, and-other
arrangements. You see, it is a lonely spot," he added
apologetically. "And now, if you will excuse me, we will resume
these gruesome inquiries after the more pleasant affairs of
dinner."

He left us.

"Who is our host?" I asked, as the door closed.

Smith smiled.

"You are wondering what caused the 'episcopal cloud?'" he
suggested. "Well, the deep-seated prejudices which our reverend
friend stirred up culminated in the Boxer Risings."

"Good heavens, Smith!" I said; for I could not reconcile the
diffident personality of the clergyman with the memories which
those words awakened.

"He evidently should be on our danger list," my friend continued
quickly; "but he has so completely effaced himself of recent years
that I think it probable that someone else has only just recalled
his existence to mind. The Rev. J. D. Eltham, my dear Petrie,
though he may be a poor hand at saving souls, at any rate, has
saved a score of Christian women from death-and worse."

"J. D. Eltham-" I began.

"Is 'Parson Dan'!" rapped Smith, "the 'Fighting Missionary,' the
man who with a garrison of a dozen cripples and a German doctor
held the hospital at Nan-Yang against two hundred Boxers. That's
who the Rev. J. D. Eltham is! But what is he up to, now, I have yet
to find out. He is keeping something back-something which has made
him an object of interest to Young China!"

During dinner the matters responsible for our presence there did
not hold priority in the conversation. In fact, this, for the most
part, consisted in light talk of books and theaters.

Greba Eltham, the clergyman's daughter, was a charming young
hostess, and she, with Vernon Denby, Mr. Eltham's nephew, completed
the party. No doubt the girl's presence, in part, at any rate, led
us to refrain from the subject uppermost in our minds.

These little pools of calm dotted along the torrential course of
the circumstances which were bearing my friend and me onward to
unknown issues form pleasant, sunny spots in my dark
recollections.

So I shall always remember, with pleasure, that dinner-party at
Redmoat, in the old-world dining-room; it was so very peaceful, so
almost grotesquely calm. For I, within my very bones, felt it to be
the calm before the storm. When, later, we men passed to the
library, we seemed to leave that atmosphere behind us.

"Redmoat," said the Rev. J. D. Eltham, "has latterly become the
theater of strange doings."

He stood on the hearth-rug. A shaded lamp upon the big table and
candles in ancient sconces upon the mantelpiece afforded dim
illumination. Mr. Eltham's nephew, Vernon Denby, lolled smoking on
the window-seat, and I sat near to him. Nayland Smith paced
restlessly up and down the room.

"Some months ago, almost a year," continued the clergyman, "a
burglarious attempt was made upon the house. There was an arrest,
and the man confessed that he had been tempted by my collection."
He waved his hand vaguely towards the several cabinets about the
shadowed room.

"It was shortly afterwards that I allowed my hobby for-playing
at forts to run away with me." He smiled an apology. "I virtually
fortified Redmoat-against trespassers of any kind, I mean. You have
seen that the house stands upon a kind of large mound. This is
artificial, being the buried ruins of a Roman outwork; a portion of
the ancient castrum." Again he waved indicatively, this time toward
the window.

"When it was a priory it was completely isolated and defended by
its environing moat. Today it is completely surrounded by
barbed-wire fencing. Below this fence, on the east, is a narrow
stream, a tributary of the Waverney; on the north and west, the
high road, but nearly twenty feet below, the banks being
perpendicular. On the south is the remaining part of the moat-now
my kitchen garden; but from there up to the level of the house is
nearly twenty feet again, and the barbed wire must also be counted
with.

"The entrance, as you know, is by the way of a kind of cutting.
There is a gate at the foot of the steps (they are some of the
original steps of the priory, Dr. Petrie), and another gate at the
head."

He paused, and smiled around upon us boyishly.

"My secret defenses remain to be mentioned," he resumed; and,
opening a cupboard, he pointed to a row of batteries, with a number
of electric bells upon the wall behind. "The more vulnerable spots
are connected at night with these bells," he said triumphantly.
"Any attempt to scale the barbed wire or to force either gate would
set two or more of these ringing. A stray cow raised one false
alarm," he added, "and a careless rook threw us into a perfect
panic on another occasion."

He was so boyish-so nervously brisk and acutely sensitive-that
it was difficult to see in him the hero of the Nan-Yang hospital. I
could only suppose that he had treated the Boxers' raid in the same
spirit wherein he met would-be trespassers within the precincts of
Redmoat. It had been an escapade, of which he was afterwards
ashamed, as, faintly, he was ashamed of his "fortifications."
"But," rapped Smith, "it was not the visit of the burglar which
prompted these elaborate precautions."

Mr. Eltham coughed nervously.

"I am aware," he said, "that having invoked official aid, I must
be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Smith. It was the burglar who was
responsible for my continuing the wire fence all round the grounds,
but the electrical contrivance followed, later, as a result of
several disturbed nights. My servants grew uneasy about someone who
came, they said, after dusk. No one could describe this nocturnal
visitor, but certainly we found traces. I must admit that.

"Then-I received what I may term a warning. My position is a
peculiar one-a peculiar one. My daughter, too, saw this prowling
person, over by the Roman castrum, and described him as a yellow
man. It was the incident in the train following closely upon this
other, which led me to speak to the police, little as I desired
to-er-court publicity."

Nayland Smith walked to a window, and looked out across the
sloping lawn to where the shadows of the shrubbery lay. A dog was
howling dismally somewhere.

"Your defenses are not impregnable, after all, then?" he jerked.
"On our way up this evening Mr. Denby was telling us about the
death of his collie a few nights ago."

The clergyman's face clouded.

"That, certainly, was alarming," he confessed.

"I had been in London for a few days, and during my absence
Vernon came down, bringing the dog with him. On the night of his
arrival it ran, barking, into the shrubbery yonder, and did not
come out. He went to look for it with a lantern, and found it lying
among the bushes, quite dead. The poor creature had been dreadfully
beaten about the head."

"The gates were locked," Denby interrupted, "and no one could
have got out of the grounds without a ladder and someone to assist
him. But there was so sign of a living thing about. Edwards and I
searched every corner."

"How long has that other dog taken to howling?" inquired
Smith.

"Only since Rex's death," said Denby quickly.

"It is my mastiff," explained the clergyman, "and he is confined
in the yard. He is never allowed on this side of the house."

Nayland Smith wandered aimlessly about the library.

"I am sorry to have to press you, Mr. Eltham," he said, "but
what was the nature of the warning to which you referred, and from
whom did it come?"

Mr. Eltham hesitated for a long time.

"I have been so unfortunate," he said at last, "in my previous
efforts, that I feel assured of your hostile criticism when I tell
you that I am contemplating an immediate return to Ho-Nan!"

Smith jumped round upon him as though moved by a spring.

"Then you are going back to Nan-Yang?" he cried. "Now I
understand! Why have you not told me before? That is the key for
which I have vainly been seeking. Your troubles date from the time
of your decision to return?"

"Yes, I must admit it," confessed the clergyman diffidently.

"And your warning came from China?"

"It did."

"From a Chinaman?"

"From the Mandarin, Yen-Sun-Yat."

"Yen-Sun-Yat! My good sir! He warned you to abandon your visit?
And you reject his advice? Listen to me." Smith was intensely
excited now, his eyes bright, his lean figure curiously strung up,
alert. "The Mandarin Yen-Sun-Yat is one of the seven!"

"I do not follow you, Mr. Smith."

"No, sir. China to-day is not the China of '98. It is a huge
secret machine, and Ho-Nan one of its most important wheels! But
if, as I understand, this official is a friend of yours, believe
me, he has saved your life! You would be a dead man now if it were
not for your friend in China! My dear sir, you must accept his
counsel."

Then, for the first time since I had made his acquaintance,
"Parson Dan" showed through the surface of the Rev. J. D.
Eltham.

"No, sir!" replied the clergyman-and the change in his voice was
startling. "I am called to Nan-Yang. Only One may deter my
going."

The admixture of deep spiritual reverence with intense
truculence in his voice was dissimilar from anything I ever had
heard.

"Then only One can protect you," cried Smith, "for, by Heaven,
no MAN will be able to do so! Your presence in Ho-Nan can do no
possible good at present. It must do harm. Your experience in 1900
should be fresh in your memory."

"Hard words, Mr. Smith."

"The class of missionary work which you favor, sir, is injurious
to international peace. At the present moment, Ho-Nan is a barrel
of gunpowder; you would be the lighted match. I do not willingly
stand between any man and what he chooses to consider his duty, but
I insist that you abandon your visit to the interior of China!"