by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XIV
THE GOLDEN POMEGRANATES
"What was it that he cried out?" demanded Nayland Smith abruptly. "Iwas in the sitting-room and it sounded to me like 'pomegranates'!"
We were bending over Lewison; for now, the wig removed, Lewison itproved unmistakably to be, despite the puffy and pallid face.
"He said 'the golden pomegranates,'" I replied, and laughed harshly."They were words of delirium and cannot possibly have any bearingupon the manner of his death."
"I disagree."
He strode out into the sitting-room.
Weymouth was below, supervising the removal of the unhappy prisoner,and together Smith and I stood looking down at the brass box. Suddenly--
"I propose to attempt to open it," said my friend.
His words came as a complete surprise.
"For what reason?--and why have you so suddenly changed your mind?"
"For a reason which I hope will presently become evident," he said;"and as to my change of mind, unless I am greatly mistaken, the wilyold Chinaman from whom I wrested this treasure was infinitely moreclever than I gave him credit for being!"
Through the open window came faintly to my ears the chiming of Big Ben.The hour was a quarter to two. London's pulse was dimmed now, andaround about us that great city slept as soundly as it ever sleeps.Other sounds came vaguely through the fog, and beside Nayland SmithI sat and watched him at work upon the Tulun-Nur box.
Every knob of the intricate design he pushed, pulled and twisted; butwithout result. The night wore on, and just before three o'clockInspector Weymouth knocked upon the door. I admitted him, and side byside the two of us stood watching Smith patiently pursuing his task.
All conversation had ceased, when, just as the muted booming ofLondon's clocks reached my ears again and Weymouth pulled out hiswatch, there came a faint click ... and I saw that Smith had raisedthe lid of the coffer!
Weymouth and I sprang forward with one accord, and over Smith'sshoulders peered into the interior. There was a second lid of somedull, black wood, apparently of great age, and fastened to it so asto form knobs or handles was an exquisitely carved pair of _goldenpomegranates!_
"They are to raise the wooden lid, Mr. Smith!" cried Weymouth eagerly.
"Look! there is a hollow in each to accommodate the fingers!"
"Aren't you going to open it?" I demanded excitedly--"aren't you goingto open it?"
"Might I invite you to accompany me into the bedroom yonder for amoment?" he replied in a tome of studied reserve. "You also, Weymouth?"
Smith leading, we entered the room where the dead man lay stretchedupon the bed.
"Note the appearance of his fingers," directed Nayland Smith.
I examined the peculiarity to which Smith had drawn my attention. Thedead man's fingers were swollen extraordinarily, the index finger ofeither hand especially being oddly discolored, as though bruised fromthe nail upward. I looked again at the ghastly face, then, repressinga shudder, for the sight was one not good to look upon, I turned toSmith, who was watching me expectantly with his keen, steely eyes.
From his pocket the took out a knife containing a number of implements,amongst them a hook-like contrivance.
"Have you a button-hook, Petrie," he asked, "or anything of that nature?"
"How will this do?" said the Inspector, and he produced a pair ofhandcuffs. "They were not wanted," he added significantly.
"Better still," declared Smith.
Reclosing his knife, he took the handcuffs from Weymouth, and,returning to the sitting-room, opened them widely and inserted twosteel points in the hollows of the golden pomegranates. He pulled.There was a faint sound of moving mechanism and the wooden lid lifted,revealing the interior of the coffer. It contained three long bars oflead--and nothing else!
Supporting the lid with the handcuffs--
"Just pull the light over here, Petrie," said Smith.
I did as he directed.
"Look into these two cavities where one is expected to thrust one'sfingers!"
Weymouth and I craned forward so that our heads came into contact.
"My God!" whispered the Inspector, "we know now what killed him!"
Visible, in either little cavity against the edge of the steelhandcuff, was the point of a needle, which evidently worked in anexquisitely made socket through which the action of raising the lidcaused it to protrude. Underneath the lid, midway between the twopomegranates, as I saw by slowly moving the lamp, was a littlereceptacle of metal communicating with the base of the hollow needles.
The action of lifting the lid not only protruded the points but alsooperated the hypodermic syringe!
"Note," snapped Smith--but his voice was slightly hoarse.
He removed the points of the bracelets. The box immediately reclosedwith no other sound than a faint click.
"God forgive him," said Smith, glancing toward the other room, "forhe died in my stead!--and Dr. Fu-Manchu scores an undeserved failure!"