Criminals -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Fu Manchu, Doctor (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Now, holding a lantern above his head, the deviser of the trap
whereinto we, mouselike, had blindly entered, came through the cellars,
following the brown man who carried Weymouth. The faint rays of the
lantern (it apparently contained a candle) revealed a veritable forest
of the gigantic fungi--poisonously colored--hideously swollen--climbing
from the floor up the slimy walls--climbing like horrid parasites to
such part of the arched roof as was visible to me.
Fu-Manchu picked his way through the fungi ranks as daintily as though
the distorted, tumid things had been viper-headed.
The resounding blows which I had noted before, and which had never
ceased, culminated in a splintering crash. Dr. Fu-Manchu and his
servant, who carried the apparently insensible detective, passed in
under the arch, Fu-Manchu glancing back once along the passages. The
lantern he extinguished, or concealed; and whilst I waited, my mind
dully surveying memories of all the threats which this uncanny being
had uttered, a distant clamor came to my ears.
Then, abruptly, it ceased. Dr. Fu-Manchu had closed a heavy door; and
to my surprise I perceived that the greater part of it was of glass.
The will-o'-the-wisp glow which played around the fungi rendered the
vista of the cellars faintly luminous, and visible to me from where I
lay. Fu-Manchu spoke softly. His voice, its guttural note alternating
with a sibilance on certain words, betrayed no traces of agitation.
The man's unbroken calm had in it something inhuman. For he had just
perpetrated an act of daring unparalleled in my experience, and, in the
clamor now shut out by the glass door I tardily recognized the entrance
of the police into some barricaded part of the house--the coming of
those who would save us--who would hold the Chinese doctor for the
hangman!
"I have decided," he said deliberately, "that you are more worthy of my
attention than I had formerly supposed. A man who can solve the secret
of the Golden Elixir (I had not solved it; I had merely stolen some)
should be a valuable acquisition to my Council. The extent of the
plans of Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith and of the English Scotland
Yard it is incumbent upon me to learn. Therefore, gentlemen, you
live--for the present!"
"And you'll swing," came Weymouth's hoarse voice, "in the near future!
You and all your yellow gang!"
"I trust not," was the placid reply. "Most of my people are safe: some
are shipped as lascars upon the liners; others have departed by
different means. Ah!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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