The Hand of Fu-Manchu: Being a New Phase in the Activities of Fu-Manchu, the Devil Doctor — John Shaqi
The Hand of Fu-Manchu: Being a New Phase in the Activities of Fu-Manchu, the Devil DoctorRohmer, Sax
General
The Hand of Fu-Manchu: Being a New Phase in the Activities of Fu-Manchu, the Devil Doctor
Rohmer, Sax
Detective and mystery stories; Fu Manchu, Doctor (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Before me I perceived a long low room lighted by flaming gas-burners,
the jets hissing and spluttering in the draught from the door, for
they were entirely innocent of shades or mantles. Wooden tables,
their surfaces stained with the marks of countless wet glasses, were
ranged about the place, café fashion; and many of these tables
accommodated groups, of nondescript nationality for the most part.
One or two there were in a distant corner who were unmistakably
Chinamen; but my slight acquaintance with the races of the East did
not enable me to classify the greater number of those whom I now saw
about me. There were several unattractive-looking women present.
Fletcher walked up the center of the place, exchanging nods of
recognition with two hang-dog poker-players, and I was pleased to note
that our advent had apparently failed to attract the slightest
attention. Through an opening on the right-hand side of the room, near
the top, I looked into a smaller apartment, occupied exclusively by
Chinese. They were playing some kind of roulette and another game
which seemed wholly to absorb their interest. I ventured no more than
a glance, then passed on with my companion.
"_Fan-tan!_" he whispered in my ear.
Other forms of gambling were in progress at some of the tables; and
now Fletcher silently drew my attention to yet a third dimly lighted
apartment--this opening out from the left-hand corner of the
principal room. The atmosphere of the latter was sufficiently
abominable; indeed, the stench was appalling; but a wave of choking
vapor met me as I paused for a moment at the threshold of this inner
sanctuary. I formed but the vaguest impression of its interior; the
smell was sufficient. This annex was evidently reserved for
opium-smokers.
Fletcher sat down at a small table near by, and I took a common wooden
chair which he thrust forward with his foot. I was looking around at
the sordid scene, filled with a bitter sense of my own impotency to
aid my missing friend, when that occurred which set my heart beating
wildly at once with hope and excitement. Fletcher must have seen
something of this in my attitude, for--
"Don't forget what I told you," he whispered. "Be cautious!--be very
cautious!..."
CHAPTER VIII
ZARMI OF THE JOY-SHOP
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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