The Hand of Fu Manchu (10 page)

It was signed "Kâramaneh!"

"Smith!" I said hoarsely, glancing over the massage, "Kâramaneh is on
her way to England. She arrives by the
Nicobar
to-morrow!"

"Eh?" cried Nayland Smith, in turn leaping to his feet. "She had no
right to come alone, unless—"

The boy, open-mouthed, was listening to our conversation, and I
hastily thrust a coin into his hand and dismissed him. As the door
closed—

"Unless what, Smith?" I said, looking my friend squarely in the eyes.

"Unless she has learnt something, or—is flying away from some one!"

My mind set in a whirl of hopes and fears, longings and dreads.

"What do you mean, Smith?" I asked. "This is the place of danger, as
we know to our cost; she was safe in Egypt."

Nayland Smith commenced one of his restless perambulations, glancing
at me from time to time and frequently tugging at the lobe of his ear.

"
Was
she safe in Egypt?" he rapped. "We are dealing, remember, with
the Si-Fan, which, if I am not mistaken, is a sort of Eleusinian
Mystery holding some kind of dominion over the eastern mind, and
boasting initiates throughout the Orient. It is almost certain that
there is an Egyptian branch, or group—call it what you will—of the
damnable organization."

"But Dr. Fu-Manchu—"

"Dr. Fu-Manchu—for he lives, Petrie! my own eyes bear witness to the
fact—Dr. Fu-Manchu is a sort of delegate from the headquarters. His
prodigious genius will readily enable him to keep in touch with every
branch of the movement, East and West."

He paused to knock out his pipe into an ashtray and to watch me for
some moments in silence.

"He may have instructed his Cairo agents," he added significantly.

"God grant she get to England in safety," I whispered. "Smith! can we
make no move to round up the devils who defy us, here in the very
heart of civilized England? Listen. You will not have forgotten the
wild-cat Eurasian Zarmi?"

Smith nodded. "I recall the lady perfectly!" he snapped.

"Unless my imagination has been playing me tricks, I have seen her
twice within the last few days—once in the neighborhood of this hotel
and once in a cab in Piccadilly."

"You mentioned the matter at the time," said Smith shortly; "but
although I made inquiries, as you remember, nothing came of them."

"Nevertheless, I don't think I was mistaken. I feel in my very bones
that the Yellow hand of Fu-Manchu is about to stretch out again. If
only we could apprehend Zarmi."

Nayland Smith lighted his pipe with care.

"If only we could, Petrie!" he said; "but, damn it!"—he dashed his
left fist into the palm of his right hand—"we are doomed to remain
inactive. We can only await the arrival of Kâramaneh and see if she
has anything to tell us. I must admit that there are certain theories
of my own which I haven't yet had an opportunity of testing. Perhaps
in the near future such an opportunity may arise."

How soon that opportunity was to arise neither of us suspected then;
but Fate is a merry trickster, and even as we spoke of these matters
events were brewing which were to lead us along strange paths.

With such glad anticipations as my pen cannot describe, their gladness
not unmixed with fear, I retired to rest that night, scarcely
expecting to sleep, so eager was I for the morrow. The musical voice
of Kâramaneh seemed to ring in my ears; I seemed to feel the touch
of her soft hands and to detect, as I drifted into the borderland
betwixt reality and slumber, that faint, exquisite perfume which from
the first moment of my meeting with the beautiful Eastern girl, had
become to me inseparable from her personality.

It seemed that sleep had but just claimed me when I was awakened by
some one roughly shaking my shoulder. I sprang upright, my mind alert
to sudden danger. The room looked yellow and dismal, illuminated as it
was by a cold light of dawn which crept through the window and with
which competed the luminance of the electric lamps.

Nayland Smith stood at my bedside, partially dressed!

"Wake up, Petrie!" he cried; "you instincts serve you better than my
reasoning. Hell's afoot, old man! Even as you predicted it, perhaps in
that same hour, the yellow fiends were at work!"

"What, Smith, what!" I said, leaping out of bed; "you don't mean—"

"Not that, old man," he replied, clapping his hand upon my shoulder;
"there is no further news of
her
, but Weymouth is waiting outside.
Sir Baldwin Frazer has disappeared!"

I rubbed my eyes hard and sought to clear my mind of the vapors of
sleep.

"Sir Baldwin Frazer!" I said, "of Half-Moon Street? But what—"

"God knows
what
," snapped Smith; "but our old friend Zarmi, or so it
would appear, bore him off last night, and he has completely vanished,
leaving practically no trace behind."

Only a few sleeping servants were about as we descended the marble
stairs to the lobby of the hotel where Weymouth was awaiting us.

"I have a cab outside from the Yard," he said. "I came straight here
to fetch you before going on to Half-Moon Street."

"Quite right!" snapped Smith; "but you are sure the cab is from the
Yard? I have had painful experience of strange cabs recently!"

"You can trust this one," said Weymouth, smiling slightly. "It has
carried me to the scene of many a crime."

"Hem!" said Smith—"a dubious recommendation."

We entered the waiting vehicle and soon were passing through the
nearly deserted streets of London. Only those workers whose toils
began with the dawn were afoot at that early hour, and in the misty
gray light the streets had an unfamiliar look and wore an aspect of
sadness in ill accord with the sentiments which now were stirring
within me. For whatever might be the fate of the famous mental
specialist, whatever the mystery before us—even though Dr. Fu-Manchu
himself, malignantly active, threatened our safety—Kâramaneh would
be with me again that day—Kâramaneh, my beautiful wife to be!

So selfishly occupied was I with these reflections that I paid little
heed to the words of Weymouth, who was acquainting Nayland Smith with
the facts bearing upon the mysterious disappearance of Sir Baldwin
Frazer. Indeed, I was almost entirely ignorant upon the subject when
the cab pulled up before the surgeon's house in Half-Moon Street.

Here, where all else spoke of a city yet sleeping or but newly
awakened, was wild unrest and excitement. Several servants were
hovering about the hall eager to glean any scrap of information that
might be obtainable; wide-eyed and curious, if not a little fearful.
In the somber dining-room with its heavy oak furniture and gleaming
silver, Sir Baldwin's secretary awaited us. He was a young man,
fair-haired, clean-shaven and alert; but a real and ever-present
anxiety could be read in his eyes.

"I am sorry," he began, "to have been the cause of disturbing you at
so early an hour, particularly since this mysterious affair may prove
to have no connection with the matters which I understand are at
present engaging your attention."

Nayland Smith raised his hand deprecatingly.

"We are prepared, Mr. Logan," he replied, "to travel to the uttermost
ends of the earth at all times, if by doing so we can obtain even a
meager clue to the enigma which baffles us."

"I should not have disturbed Mr. Smith," said Weymouth, "if I had not
been pretty sure that there was Chinese devilry at work here: nor
should I have told you as much as I have, Mr. Logan," he added, a
humorous twinkle creeping into his blue eyes, "if I had thought you
could not be of use to us in unraveling our case!"

"I quite understand that," said Logan, "and now, since you have voted
for the story first and refreshments afterward, let me tell you what
little I know of the matter."

"Be as brief as you can," snapped Nayland Smith, starting up from the
chair in which he had been seated and beginning restlessly to pace
the floor before the open fireplace—"as brief as is consistent with
clarity. We have learnt in the past that an hour or less sometimes
means the difference between—"

He paused, glancing at Sir Baldwin's secretary.

"Between life and death," he added.

Mr. Logan started perceptibly.

"You alarm me, Mr. Smith," he declared; "for I can conceive of no
earthly manner in which this mysterious Eastern organization of which
Inspector Weymouth speaks, could profit by the death of Sir Baldwin."

Nayland Smith suddenly turned and stared grimly at the speaker.

"I call it death," he said harshly, "to be carried off to the interior
of China, to be made a mere slave, having no will but the great and
evil man who already—already, mark you!—has actually accomplished
such things."

"But Sir Baldwin—"

"Sir Baldwin Frazer," snapped Smith, "is the undisputed head of his
particular branch of surgery. Dr. Fu-Manchu may have what he deems
useful employment for such skill as his. But," glancing at the clock,
"we are wasting time. Your story, Mr. Logan."

"It was about half-past twelve last night," began the secretary,
closing his eyes as if he were concentrating his mind upon certain
past events, "when a woman came here and inquired for Sir Baldwin.
The butler informed her that Sir Baldwin was entertaining friends and
that he could receive no professional visitors until the morning.
She was so insistent, however, absolutely declining to go away, that
I was sent for—I have rooms in the house—and I came down to interview
her in the library."

"Be very accurate, Mr. Logan," interrupted Smith, "in your description
of this visitor."

"I shall do my best," pursued Logan, closing his eyes again in
concentrated thought. "She wore evening dress, of a fantastic kind,
markedly Oriental in character, and had large gold rings in her ears.
A green embroidered shawl, with raised figures of white birds as a
design, took the place of a cloak. It was certainly of Eastern
workmanship, possibly Arab; and she wore it about her shoulders with
one corner thrown over her head—again, something like a
burnous
. She
was extremely dark, had jet-black, frizzy hair and very remarkable
eyes, the finest of their type I have ever seen. She possessed beauty
of a sort, of course, but without being exactly vulgar, it was what I
may term
ostentatious;
and as I entered the library I found myself
at a loss to define her exact place in society—you understand what
I mean?"

We all nodded comprehendingly and awaited with intense interest the
resumption of the story. Mr. Logan had vividly described the Eurasian
Zarmi, the creature of Dr. Fu-Manchu.

"When the woman addressed me," he continued, "my surmise that she was
some kind of half-caste, probably a Eurasian, was confirmed by her
broken English. I shall not be misunderstood"—a slight embarrassment
became perceptible in his manner—"if I say that the visitor quite
openly tried to bewitch me; and since we are all human, you will
perhaps condone my conduct when I add that she succeeded, in a measure,
inasmuch as I consented to speak to Sir Baldwin, although he was
actually playing bridge at the time.

"Either my eloquence, or, to put it bluntly, the extraordinary fee
which the woman offered, resulted in Sir Baldwin's agreeing to abandon
his friends and accompany the visitor in a cab which was waiting to
see the patient."

"And who was the patient?" rapped Smith.

"According to the woman's account, the patient was her mother, who
had met with a street accident a week before. She gave the name of
the consultant who had been called in, and who, she stated, had
advised the opinion of Sir Baldwin. She represented that the matter
was urgent, and that it might be necessary to perform an operation
immediately in order to save the patient's life."

"But surely," I interrupted, in surprise, "Sir Baldwin did not take
his instruments?"

"He took his case with him—yes," replied Logan; "for he in turn
yielded to the appeals of the visitor. The very last words that I
heard him speak as he left the house were to assure her that no such
operation could be undertaken at such short notice in that way."

Logan paused, looking around at us a little wearily.

"And what aroused your suspicions?" said Smith.

"My suspicions were aroused at the very moment of Sir Baldwin's
departure, for as I came out onto the steps with him I noticed a
singular thing."

"And that was?" snapped Smith.

"Directly Sir Baldwin had entered the cab the woman got out," replied
Logan with some excitement in his manner, "and reclosing the door
took her seat beside the driver of the vehicle—which immediately
moved off."

Nayland Smith glanced significantly at me.

"The cab trick again, Petrie!" he said; "scarcely a doubt of it." Then,
to Logan: "Anything else?"

"This," replied the secretary: "I thought, although I could not be
sure, that the face of Sir Baldwin peered out of the window for a
moment as the cab moved away from the house, and that there was
strange expression upon it, almost a look of horror. But of course as
there was no light in the cab and the only illumination was that from
the open door, I could not be sure."

"And now tell Mr. Smith," said Weymouth, "how you got confirmation of
your fears."

"I felt very uneasy in my mind," continued Logan, "for the whole
thing was so irregular, and I could not rid my memory of the idea of
Sir Baldwin's face looking out from the cab window. Therefore I rang
up the consultant whose name our visitor had mentioned."

"Yes?" cried Smith eagerly.

"He knew nothing whatever of the matter," said Logan, "and had no such
case upon his books! That of course put me in a dreadful state of mind,
but I was naturally anxious to avoid making a fool of myself and
therefore I waited for some hours before mentioning my suspicions to
any one. But when the morning came and no message was received I
determined to communicate with Scotland Yard. The rest of the mystery
it is for you, gentlemen, to unravel."