Criminals -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Fu Manchu, Doctor (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
"Sir Lionel Barton really believes that supernatural agencies were
brought into operation by the opening of the high priest's coffin. For
my part, even if I believed the same, I should still maintain that Dr.
Fu-Manchu controlled those manifestations. But reason it out for
yourself and see if we arrive at any common center. Don't work so much
upon the datum of the green mist, but keep to the FACTS which are
established."
I commenced to knock out my pipe in the ash-tray; then paused, pipe in
hand. The house was quite still, for my landlady and all the small
household were out.
Above the noise of the passing tramcar I thought I had heard the hall
door open. In the ensuing silence I sat and listened.
Not a sound. Stay! I slipped my hand into the table drawer, took out
my revolver, and stood up.
There WAS a sound. Someone or something was creeping upstairs in the
dark!
Familiar with the ghastly media employed by the Chinaman, I was seized
with an impulse to leap to the door, shut and lock it. But the
rustling sound proceeded, now, from immediately outside my partially
opened door. I had not the time to close it; knowing somewhat of the
horrors at the command of Fu-Manchu, I had not the courage to open it.
My heart leaping wildly, and my eyes upon that bar of darkness with its
gruesome potentialities, I waited--waited for whatever was to come.
Perhaps twelve seconds passed in silence.
"Who's there?" I cried. "Answer, or I fire!"
"Ah! no," came a soft voice, thrillingly musical. "Put it down--that
pistol. Quick! I must speak to you."
The door was pushed open, and there entered a slim figure wrapped in a
hooded cloak. My hand fell, and I stood, stricken to silence, looking
into the beautiful dark eyes of Dr. Fu-Manchu's messenger--if her own
statement could be credited, slave. On two occasions this girl, whose
association with the Doctor was one of the most profound mysteries of
the case, had risked--I cannot say what; unnameable punishment,
perhaps--to save me from death; in both cases from a terrible death.
For what was she come now?
Her lips slightly parted, she stood, holding her cloak about her, and
watching me with great passionate eyes.
"How--" I began.
But she shook her head impatiently.
"HE has a duplicate key of the house door," was her amazing statement.
"I have never betrayed a secret of my master before, but you must
arrange to replace the lock."
She came forward and rested her slim hands confidingly upon my
shoulders. "I have come again to ask you to take me away from him,"
she said simply.
And she lifted her face to me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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