Criminals -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Fu Manchu, Doctor (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
"Say no more, Mr. Smith," he interrupted; "you misunderstand me. I do
not quarrel with that, but what I have done from conviction and what I
have done of necessity are separated--are seas apart. The brave
Inspector Weymouth I wounded with a poisoned needle, in self-defense;
but I regret his condition as greatly as you do. I respect such a man.
There is an antidote to the poison of the needle."
"Name it," said Smith.
Fu-Manchu smiled again.
"Useless," he replied. "I alone can prepare it. My secrets shall die
with me. I will make a sane man of Inspector Weymouth, but no one else
shall be in the house but he and I."
"It will be surrounded by police," interrupted Smith grimly.
"As you please," said Fu-Manchu. "Make your arrangements. In that
ebony case upon the table are the instruments for the cure. Arrange
for me to visit him where and when you will--"
"I distrust you utterly. It is some trick," jerked Smith.
Dr. Fu-Manchu rose slowly and drew himself up to his great height. His
manacled hands could not rob him of the uncanny dignity which was his.
He raised them above his head with a tragic gesture and fixed his
piercing gaze upon Nayland Smith.
"The God of Cathay hear me," he said, with a deep, guttural note in his
voice--"I swear--"
The most awful visitor who ever threatened the peace of England, the
end of the visit of Fu-Manchu was characteristic--terrible--inexplicable.
Strange to relate, I did not doubt that this weird being had conceived
some kind of admiration or respect for the man to whom he had wrought
so terrible an injury. He was capable of such sentiments, for he
entertained some similar one in regard to myself.
A cottage farther down the village street than Weymouth's was vacant,
and in the early dawn of that morning became the scene of outre
happenings. Poor Weymouth, still in a comatose condition, we removed
there (Smith having secured the key from the astonished agent). I
suppose so strange a specialist never visited a patient
before--certainly not under such conditions.
For into the cottage, which had been entirely surrounded by a ring of
police, Dr. Fu-Manchu was admitted from the closed car in which, his
work of healing complete, he was to be borne to prison--to death!
Law and justice were suspended by my royally empowered friend that the
enemy of the white race might heal one of those who had hunted him down!
No curious audience was present, for sunrise was not yet come; no
concourse of excited students followed the hand of the Master; but
within that surrounded cottage was performed one of those miracles of
science which in other circumstances had made the fame of Dr. Fu-Manchu
to live forever.
Inspector Weymouth, dazed, disheveled, clutching his head as a man who
has passed through the Valley of the Shadow--but sane--sane!--walked
out into the porch!
He looked towards us--his eyes wild, but not with the fearsome wildness
of insanity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account