The Hand of Fu Manchu (22 page)

The realities seemed to be slipping from me; I could not believe that
I looked upon a material world. This had been a night of wonders,
having no place in the life of a sane, modern man, but belonging to
the days of the jinn and the Arabian necromancers.

Fu-Manchu was greeted by a universal raising of hands, but in complete
silence. He also wore a cap surmounted by a coral ball, and this he
placed upon one of the black cushions set before a golden stool. Then,
resting heavily upon his stick, he began to speak—in French!

As on listens to a dream-voice, I listened to that, alternately
gutteral and sibilant, of the terrible Chinese doctor. He was
defending himself! With what he was charged by his sinister brethren
I knew not nor could I gather from his words, but that he was
rendering account of his stewardship became unmistakable. Scarce
crediting my senses, I heard him unfold to his listeners details of
crimes successfully perpetrated, and with the results of some of these
I was but too familiar; other there were in the ghastly catalogue
which had been accomplished secretly. Then my blood froze with horror.
My own name was mentioned—and that of Nayland Smith! We two stood in
the way of the coming of one whom he called the Lady of the Si-Fan,
in the way of Asiatic supremacy.

A fantastic legend once mentioned to me by Smith, of some woman
cherished in a secret fastness of Hindustan who was destined one day
to rule the world, now appeared, to my benumbed senses, to be the
unquestioned creed of the murderous, cosmopolitan group known as the
Si-Fan! At every mention of her name all heads were bowed in reverence.

Dr. Fu-Manchu spoke without the slightest trace of excitement; he
assured his auditors of his fidelity to their cause and proposed to
prove to them that he enjoyed the complete confidence of the Lady of
the Si-Fan.

And with every moment that passed the giant intellect of the speaker
became more and more apparent. Years ago Nayland Smith had asssure me
that Dr. Fu-Manchu was a linguist who spoke with almost equal facility
in any of th civilized languages and in most of the barbaric; now the
truth of this was demonstrated. For, following some passage which
might be susceptible of misconstruction, Fu-Manchu would turn slightly,
and elucidate his remarks, addressing a Chinaman in Chinese, a Hindu
in Hindustanee, or an Egyptian in Arabic.

His auditors were swayed by the magnetic personality of the speaker,
as reeds by a breeze; and now I became aware of a curious
circumstance. Either because they and I viewed the character of this
great and evil man from a widely dissimilar aspect, or because, my
presence being unknown to him, I remained outside the radius of his
power, it seemed to me that these members of the evidently vast
organization known as the Si-Fan were dupes, to a man, of the Chinese
orator! It seemed to me that he used them as an instrument, playing
upon their obvious fanaticism, string by string, as a player upon an
Eastern harp, and all the time weaving harmonies to suit some giant,
incredible scheme of his own—a scheme over and beyond any of which
they had dreamed, in the fruition whereof they had no part—of the
true nature and composition of which they had no comprehension.

"Not since the day of the first Yuan Emperor," said Fu-Manchu
sibilantly, "has Our Lady of the Si-Fan—to look upon upon whom,
unveiled, is death—crossed the sacred borders. To-day I am a man
supremely happy and honored above my deserts. You shall all partake
with me of that happiness, that honor...."

Again the gong sounded seven times, and a sort of magnetic thrill
seemed to pass throughout the room. There followed a faint, musical
sound, like the tinkle of a silver bell.

All heads were lowered, but all eyes upturned to the golden curtain.
Literally holding my breath, in those moments of intense expectancy,
I watched the draperies parted from the center and pulled aside by
unseen agency.

A black covered dais was revealed, bearing an ebony chair. And seated
in the chair, enveloped from head to feet in a shimmering white veil,
was a woman. A sound like a great sigh arose from the gathering. The
woman rose slowly to her feet, and raised her arms, which were
exquisitely formed, and of the uniform hue of old ivory, so that the
veil fell back to her shoulders, revealing the green snake bangle
which she wore. She extended her long, slim hands as if in benediction;
the silver bell sounded ... and the curtain dropped again, entirely
obscuring the dais!

Frankly, I thought myself mad; for this "lady of the Si-Fan" was none
other than my mysterious traveling companion! This was some solemn farce
with which Fu-Manchu sought to impress his fanatical dupes. And he had
succeeded; they were inspired, their eyes blazed. Here were men capable
of any crime in the name of the Si-Fan!

Every face within my ken I had studied individually, and now slowly
and cautiously I changed my position, so that a group of three members
standing immediately to the right of the door came into view. One of
them—a tall, spare, and closely bearded man whom I took for some kind
of Hindu—had removed his gaze from the dais and was glancing
furtively all about him. Once he looked in my direction, and my heart
leapt high, then seemed to stop its pulsing.

An overpowering consciousness of my danger came to me; a dim
envisioning of what appalling fate would be mine in the event of
discovery. As those piercing eyes were turned away again, I drew back,
step my step.

Dropping upon my knees, I began to feel for the gap in the
conservatory wall. The desire to depart from the house of the Si-Fan
was become urgent. Once safely away, I could take the necessary steps
to ensure the apprehension of the entire group. What a triumph would
be mine!

I found the opening without much difficulty and crept through into the
empty house. The vague light which penetrated the linen blinds served
to show me the length of the empty, tiled apartment. I had actually
reached the French window giving access to the drawing-room, when—the
skirl of a police whistle split the stillness ... and the sound came
from the house which I had just quitted!

To write that I was amazed were to achieve the banal. Rigid with
wonderment I stood, and clutched at the open window. So I was standing,
a man of stone, when the voice, the high-pitched, imperious,
unmistakable voice of
Nayland Smith,
followed sharply upon the skirl
of the whistle:—

"Watch those French windows, Weymouth! I can hold the door!"

Like a lightning flash it came to me that the tall Hindu had been none
other than Smith disguised. From the square outside came a sudden
turmoil, a sound of racing feet, of smashing glass, of doors burst
forcibly open. Palpably, the place was surrounded; this was an
organized raid.

Irresolute, I stood there in the semi-gloom—inactive from amaze of it
all—whilst sounds of a tremendous struggle proceeded from the square
gap in the partition.

"Lights!" rose a cry, in Smith's voice again—"they have cut the
wires!"

At that I came to my senses. Plunging my hand into my pocket, I
snatched out the electric lamp ... and stepped back quickly into the
utter gloom of the room behind me.

Some one was crawling through the aperture into the conservatory!

As I watched I saw him, in the dim light, stoop to replace the movable
panel. Then, tapping upon the tiled floor as he walked, the fugitive
approached me. He was but three paces from the French window when I
pressed the button of my lamp and directed its ray fully upon his face.

"Hands up!" I said breathlessly. "I have you covered, Dr. Fu-Manchu!"

One hour later I stood in the entrance hall of our chambers in the
court adjoining Fleet Street. Some one who had come racing up the
stairs, now had inserted a key in the lock. Open swung the door—and
Nayland Smith entered, in a perfect whirl of excitement.

"Petrie! Petrie!" he cried, and seized both my hands—"you have missed
a night of nights! Man alive! we have the whole gang—the great Ki-Ming
included!" His eyes were blazing. "Weymouth has made no fewer than
twenty-five arrests, some of the prisoners being well-known Orientals.
It will be the devil's own work to keep it all quiet, but Scotland
Yard has already advised the Press."

"Congratulations, old man," I said, and looked him squarely in the eyes.

Something there must have been in my glance at variance with the
spoken words. His expression changed; he grasped my shoulder.

"
She
was not there," he said, "but please God, we'll find her now.
It's only a question of time."

But, even as he spoke, the old, haunted look was creeping back into the
lean face. He gave me a rapid glance; then:—

"I might as well make a clean breast of it," he rapped. "Fu-Manchu
escaped! Furthermore, when we got lights, the woman had vanished, too."

"The woman!"

"There was a woman at this strange gathering, Petrie. Heaven only
knows who she really is. According to Fu-Manchu she is that woman of
mystery concerning whose existence strange stories are current in the
East; the future Empress of a universal empire! But of course I
decline to accept the story, Petrie! if ever the Yellow races overran
Europe, I am in no doubt respecting the identity of the person who
would ascend the throne of the world!"

"Nor I, Smith!" I cried excitedly. "Good God! he holds them all in the
palm of his hand! He has welded together the fanatics of every creed
of the East into a giant weapon for his personal use! Small wonder
that he is so formidable. But, Smith—
who
is that woman?"

"Petrie!" he said slowly, and I knew that I had betrayed my secret,
"Petrie—where did you learn all this?"

I returned his steady gaze.

"I was present at the meeting of the Si-Fan," I replied steadily.

"What? What?
You
were present?"

"I was present! Listen, and I will explain."

Standing there in the hallway I related, as briefly as possible, the
astounding events of the night. As I told of the woman in the train—

"That confirms my impression that Fu-Manchu was imposing upon the
others!" he snapped. "I cannot conceive of a woman recluse from some
Lamaserie, surrounded by silent attendants and trained for her exalted
destiny in the way that the legendary veiled woman of Tibet is said to
be trained, traveling alone in an English railway carriage! Did you
observe, Petrie, if her eyes were
oblique
at all?"

"They did not strike me as being oblique. Why do you ask?"

"Because I strongly suspect that we have to do with none other than
Fu-Manchu's daughter! But go on."

"By heavens, Smith! You may be right! I had no idea that a Chinese
woman could possess such features."

"She may not have a Chinese mother; furthermore, there are pretty women
in China as well as in other countries; also, there are hair dyes and
cosmetics. But for Heaven's sake go on!"

I continued my all but incredible narrative; came to the point where I
discovered the straying marmoset and entered the empty house, without
provoking any comment from my listener. He stared at me with something
very like surprised admiration when I related how I had become an
unseen spectator of that singular meeting.

"And I though I had achieved the triumph of my life in gaining
admission and smuggling Weymouth and Carter into the roof, armed with
hooks and rope-ladders!" he murmured.

Now I came to the moment when, having withdrawn into the empty house,
I had heard the police whistle and had heard Smith's voice; I came to
the moment when I had found myself face to face with Dr. Fu-Manchu.

Nayland Smith's eyes were on fire now; he literally quivered with
excitement, when—

"
Ssh!
what's that?" he whispered, and grasped my arm. "I heard
something move in the sitting-room, Petrie!"

"It was a coal dropping from the grate, perhaps," I said—and rapidly
continued my story, telling how, with my pistol to his head, I had
forced the Chinese doctor to descend into the hallway of the empty
house.

"Yes, yes," snapped Smith. "For God's sake go on, man! What have you
done with him? Where is he?"

I clearly detected a movement myself immediately behind the half-open
door of the sitting-room. Smith started and stared intently across my
shoulder at the doorway; then his gaze shifted and became fixed upon
my face.

"He bought his life from me, Smith."

Never can I forget the change that came over my friend's tanned
features at those words; never can I forget the pang that I suffered
to see it. The fire died out of his eyes and he seemed to grow old and
weary in a moment. None too steadily I went on:—

"He offered a price that I could not resist, Smith. Try to forgive me,
if you can. I know that I have done a dastardly thing, but—perhaps a
day may come in your own life when you will understand. He descended
with me to a cellar under the empty house, in which some one was
locked. Had I arrested Fu-Manchu this poor captive must have died there
of starvation; for no one would ever have suspected that the place had
an occupant...."

The door of the sitting-room was thrown open, and, wearing my
great-coat over the bizarre costume in which I had found her, with her
bare ankles and little red slippers peeping grotesquely from below,
and her wonderful cloud of hair rippling over the turned-up collar,
Kâramaneh came out!

Her great dark eyes were raised to Nayland Smith's with such an appeal
in them—an appeal for
me
—that emotion took me by the throat and
had me speechless. I could not look at either of them; I turned aside
and stared into the lighted sitting-room.

How long I stood so God knows, and I never shall; but suddenly I found
my hand seized in a vice-like grip, I looked around ... and Smith,
holding my fingers fast in that iron grasp, had his left arm about
Kâramaneh's shoulders, and his gray eyes were strangely soft, whilst
hers were hidden behind her upraised hands.