The Hand Of Fu-Manchu

by Sax Rohmer

  CHAPTER XXXV

  THE EAST TOWER

  With a cigarette between my lips I sat at the open window, lookingout upon the skeleton trees of the orchard; for the buds of earlyspring were only just beginning to proclaim themselves.

  The idea of sleep was far from my mind. The attractive modernfurniture of the room could not deprive the paneled walls of the mustyantiquity which was their birthright. This solitary window deeply setand overlooking the orchard upon which the secret stair was said toopen, struck a note of more remote antiquity, casting back beyond thecarousing days of the Stuart monarchs to the troublous time of theMiddle Ages.

  An air of ghostly evil had seemed to arise like a miasma within thehouse from the moment that we had been disturbed by the unaccountablerapping. It was at a late hour that we had separated, and none of us,I think, welcomed the breaking up of our little party. Mrs. Oram, thehousekeeper, had been closely questioned by Smith--for Homopoulo, as anew-comer, could not be expected to know anything of the history ofGraywater Park. The old lady admitted the existence of the traditionwhich Nayland Smith had in some way unearthed, but assured us thatnever, in her time, had the uneasy spirit declared himself. She wasignorant (or, like the excellent retainer that she was, professed tobe ignorant) of the location of the historic chamber and staircase.

  As for Homopoulo, hitherto so irreproachably imperturbable, I hadrarely seen a man in such a state of passive panic. His dark face wasblanched to the hue of dirty parchment and his forehead dewed withcold perspiration. I mentally predicted an early resignation in thehousehold of Sir Lionel Barton. Homopoulo might be an excellent butler,but his superstitious Greek nature was clearly incapable of sustainingexistence beneath the same roof with a family ghost, hoary though thespecter's antiquity might be.

  Where the skeleton shadows of the fruit trees lay beneath me on thefresh green turf my fancy persistently fashioned a black-clad figureflitting from tree to tree. Sleep indeed was impossible. Once Ithought I detected the howling of the distant leopards.

  Somewhere on the floor above me, Nayland Smith, I knew, at that momentwould be restlessly pacing his room, the exact situation of which Icould not identify, because of the quaint, rambling passages wherebyone approached it. It was in regard to Karamaneh, however, that mymisgivings were the keenest. Already her position had been strangeenough, in those unfamiliar surroundings, but what tremors must havebeen hers now in the still watches of the night, following the ghostlymanifestations which had so dramatically interrupted Nayland Smith'sstory, I dared not imagine. She had been allotted an apartmentsomewhere upon the ground floor, and Mrs. Oram, whose motherlyinterest in the girl had touched me deeply, had gone with her to herroom, where no doubt her presence had done much to restore the girl'scourage.

  Graywater Park stood upon a well-wooded slope, and, to the southwest,starting above the trees almost like a giant Spanish priest, showed asolitary tower. With a vague and indefinite interest I watched it. Itwas Monkswell, an uninhabited place belonging to Sir Lionel's estateand dating, in part, to the days of King John. Flicking the ash frommy cigarette, I studied the ancient tower wondering idly what deedshad had their setting within its shadows, since the Angevin monarch,in whose reign it saw the light, had signed the Magna Charta.

  This was a perfect night, and very still. Nothing stirred, within orwithout Greywater Park. Yet I was conscious of a definite disquietudewhich I could only suppose to be ascribable to the weird events ofthe evening, but which seemed rather to increase than to diminish.

  I tossed the end of my cigarette out into the darkness, determined toturn in, although I had never felt more wide awake in my life. Oneparting glance I cast into the skeleton orchard and was on the pointof standing up, when--although no breezed stirred--a shower of ivyleaves rained down upon my head!

  Brushing them away irritably, I looked up--and a second shower droppedfully upon my face and filled my eyes with dust. I drew back, checkingan exclamation. What with the depth of the embrasure, due to the greatthickness of the wall, and the leafy tangle above the window, I couldsee for no great distance up the face of the building; but a faintsound of rustling and stumbling which proceeded from somewhere aboveme proclaimed that some one, or something, was climbing either up ordown the wall of the corner tower in which I was housed!

  Partially removing the dust from my smarting eyes, I returned to theembrasure, and stepping from the chair on to the deep ledge, I graspedthe corner of the quaint, diamond-paned window, which I had opened toits fullest extent, and craned forth.

  Now I could see the ivy-grown battlements surmounting the tower (theeast wing, in which my room was situated, was the oldest part ofGraywater Park). Sharply outlined against the cloudless sky theyshowed ... and the black silhouette of a man's head and shouldersleant over directly above me!

  I drew back sharply. The climber, I thought, had not seen me, althoughhe was evidently peering down at my window. What did it mean?

  As I crouched in the embrasure, a sudden giddiness assailed me, whichat first I ascribed to a sympathetic nervous action due to having seenthe man poised there at that dizzy height. But it increased, I swayedforward, and clutched at the wall to save myself. A deadly nauseaovercame me ... and a deadly doubt leapt to my mind.

  In the past, Sir Lionel Barton had had spies in his household; whatif the dark-faced Greek, Homopoulo, were another of these? I thoughtof the '45 port, of the ghostly rapping; and I thought of the man whocrouched upon the roof of the tower above my open window.

  My symptoms now were unmistakable; my head throbbed and my vision grewimperfect; there had to be an opiate in the wine!

  I almost fell back into the room. Supporting myself by means of thechair, the chest of drawers, and finally, the bed-rail, I got to mygrip, and with weakening fingers, extracted the little medicine-chestwhich was invariably my traveling companion.

  * * * * * *

  Grimly pitting my will against the drug, but still trembling weaklyfrom the result of the treatment, internal and subcutaneous, which Ihad adopted, I staggered to the door out into the corridor and up thenarrow, winding stairs to Smith's room. I carried an electricpocket-lamp, and by its light I found my way to the triangular,paneled landing.

  I tried the handle. As I had expected, the door was locked. I beatupon it with my fist.

  "Smith!" I cried--"Smith!"

  There was no reply.

  Again I clamored; awaking ancient echoes within the rooms and allabout me. But nothing moved and no answering voice rewarded my efforts;the other rooms were seemingly unoccupied, and Smith--was drugged!

  My senses in disorder, and a mist dancing before my eyes, I wentstumbling down into the lower corridor. At the door of my own room Ipaused; a new fact had suddenly been revealed to me, a fact which themazy windings of the corridors had hitherto led me to overlook. Smith'sroom was also in the east tower, and must be directly above mine!

  "My God!" I whispered, thinking of the climber--"he has been murdered!"

  I staggered into my room and clutched at the bed-rail to supportmyself, for my legs threatened to collapse beneath me. How should Iact? That we were victims of a cunning plot, that the deathful Si-Fanhad at last wreaked its vengeance upon Nayland Smith I could not doubt.

  My brain reeled, and a weakness, mental and physical, threatened toconquer me completely. Indeed, I think I must have succumbed, sappedas my strength had been by the drug administered to me, if the soundof a creaking stair had not arrested my attention and by the menacewhich it conveyed afforded a new stimulus.

  Some one was creeping down from the landing above--coming to my room!The creatures of the Yellow doctor, having despatched Nayland Smith,were approaching stealthily, stair by stair, to deal with _me!_

  From my grip I took out the Browning pistol. The Chinese doctor'sservants should have a warm reception. I burned to avenge my friend,who I was persuaded, lay murdered in the room above. I partiallyclosed the door and took up a post immediately behi
nd it. Nearer camethe stealthy footsteps--nearer.... Now the one who approached hadturned the angle of the passage....

  Within sight of my door he seemed to stop; a shaft of white lightcrept through the opening, across the floor and on to the wall beyond.A moment it remained so--then was gone. The room became plunged indarkness.

  Gripping the Browning with nervous fingers I waited, listeningintently; but the silence remained unbroken. My gaze set upon the spotwhere the head of this midnight visitant might be expected to appear,I almost held my breath during the ensuing moments of frightfulsuspense.

  The door was opening; slowly--slowly--by almost imperceptible degrees.I held the pistol pointed rigidly before me and my gaze remained fixedintently on the dimly seen opening. I suppose I acted as ninety-ninemen out of a hundred would have done in like case. Nothing appeared.

  Then a voice--a voice that seemed to come from somewhere under thefloor snapped:--

  "Good God! it's Petrie!"

  I dropped my gaze instantly ... and there, looking up at me from thefloor at my feet, I vaguely discerned the outline of a human head!

  "Smith!" I whispered.

  Nayland Smith--for indeed it was none other--stood up and entered theroom.

  "Thank God you are safe, old man," he said. "But in waiting for onewho is stealthily entering a room, don't, as you love me, take it forgranted that he will enter _upright_. I could have shot you from thefloor with ease! But, mercifully, even in the darkness, I recognizedyour Arab slippers!"

  "Smith," I said, my heart beating wildly, "I thought you were drugged--murdered. The port contained an opiate."

  "I guessed as much!" snapped Smith. "But despite the excellent tuitionof Dr. Fu-Manchu, I am still childishly trustful; and the fact that Idid not partake of the crusted '45 was not due to any suspicions whichI entertained at that time."

  "But, Smith, I saw you drink some port."

  "I regret to contradict you, Petrie, but you must be aware that thestate of my liver--due to a long residence in Burma--does not permitme to indulge in the luxury of port. My share of the '45 now reposesamid the moss in the tulip-bowl, which you may remember decorated thedining table! Not desiring to appear churlish, by means of a simplefeat of legerdemain I drank your health and future happiness in claret!

  "For God's sake what is going on, Smith? Some one climbed from yourwindow."

  "I climbed from my window!"

  "What!" I said dazedly--"it was you! But what does it all mean?Karamaneh----"

  "It is for her I fear, Petrie, now. We have not a moment to waste!"

  He made for the door.

  "Sir Lionel must be warned at all cost!" I cried.

  "Impossible!" snapped Smith.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Sir Lionel has disappeared!"