by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XVI. THE QUESTING HANDS
Within my view, from the corner of the room where I sat in deepestshadow, through the partly opened window (it was screwed, like our own)were rows of glass-houses gleaming in the moonlight, and, beyond them,orderly ranks of flower-beds extending into a blue haze of distance. Byreason of the moon's position, no light entered the room, but my eyes,from long watching, were grown familiar with the darkness, and I couldsee Burke quite clearly as he lay in the bed between my post and thewindow. I seemed to be back again in those days of the troubled pastwhen first Nayland Smith and I had come to grips with the servants ofDr. Fu-Manchu. A more peaceful scene than this flower-planted cornerof Essex it would be difficult to imagine; but, either because of myknowledge that its peace was chimerical, or because of that outflungconsciousness of danger which, actually, or in my imagination, precededthe coming of the Chinaman's agents, to my seeming the silence throbbedelectrically and the night was laden with stilly omens.
Already cramped by my journey in the market-cart, I found it difficultto remain very long in any one position. What information had Burketo sell? He had refused, for some reason, to discuss the matter thatevening, and now, enacting the part allotted him by Nayland Smith, hefeigned sleep consistently, although at intervals he would whisper to mehis doubts and fears.
All the chances were in our favor to-night; for whilst I could not doubtthat Dr. Fu-Manchu was set upon the removal of the ex-officer of NewYork police, neither could I doubt that our presence in the farm wasunknown to the agents of the Chinaman. According to Burke, constantattempts had been made to achieve Fu-Manchu's purpose, and had only beenfrustrated by his (Burke's) wakefulness.
There was every probability that another attempt would be made to-night.
Any one who has been forced by circumstance to undertake such a vigil asthis will be familiar with the marked changes (corresponding withphases of the earth's movement) which take place in the atmosphere, atmidnight, at two o'clock, and again at four o'clock. During those fourshours falls a period wherein all life is at its lowest ebb, and everyPhysician is aware that there is a greater likelihood of a patient'spassing between midnight and four A. M., than at any other period duringthe cycle of the hours.
To-night I became specially aware of this lowering of vitality, andnow, with the night at that darkest phase which precedes the dawn, anindescribable dread, such as I had known before in my dealings withthe Chinaman, assailed me, when I was least prepared to combat it. Thestillness was intense. Then:
"Here it is!" whispered Burke from the bed.
The chill at the very center of my being, which but corresponded withthe chill of all surrounding nature at that hour, became intensified,keener, at the whispered words.
I rose stealthily out of my chair, and from my nest of shadowswatched--watched intently, the bright oblong of the window...
Without the slightest heralding sound--a black silhouette crept upagainst the pane... the silhouette of a small, malformed head, adog-like head, deep-set in square shoulders. Malignant eyes peeredintently in. Higher it arose--that wicked head--against the window,then crouched down on the sill and became less sharply defined asthe creature stooped to the opening below. There was a faint sound ofsniffing.
Judging from the stark horror which I experienced, myself, I doubted,now, if Burke could sustain the role allotted him. In beneath theslightly raised window came a hand, perceptible to me despite thedarkness of the room. It seemed to project from the black silhouetteoutside the pane, to be thrust forward--and forward--and forward... thatsmall hand with the outstretched fingers.
The unknown possesses unique terrors; and since I was unable to conceivewhat manner of thing this could be, which, extending its incredibly longarms, now sought the throat of the man upon the bed, I tasted of thatsort of terror which ordinarily one knows only in dreams.
"Quick, sir--quick!" screamed Burke, starting up from the pillow.
The questing hands had reached his throat!
Choking down an urgent dread that I had of touching the thing whichreached through the window to kill the sleeper, I sprang across the roomand grasped the rigid, hairy forearms.
Heavens! Never have I felt such muscles, such tendons, as those beneaththe hirsute skin! They seemed to be of steel wire, and with a suddenfrightful sense of impotence, I realized that I was as powerless as achild to relax that strangle-hold. Burke was making the most frightfulsounds and quite obviously was being asphyxiated before my eyes!
"Smith!" I cried, "Smith! Help! help! for God's sake!"
Despite the confusion of my mind I became aware of sounds outside andbelow me. Twice the thing at the window coughed; there was an incessant,lash-like cracking, then some shouted words which I was unable to makeout; and finally the staccato report of a pistol.
Snarling like that of a wild beast came from the creature with the hairyarms, together with renewed coughing. But the steel grip relaxed not oneiota.
I realized two things: the first, that in my terror at the suddenness ofthe attack I had omitted to act as pre-arranged: the second, that I haddiscredited the strength of the visitant, whilst Smith had foreseen it.
Desisting in my vain endeavor to pit my strength against that of thenameless thing, I sprang back across the room and took up the weaponwhich had been left in my charge earlier in the night, but which I hadbeen unable to believe it would be necessary to employ. This was a sharpand heavy axe, which Nayland Smith, when I had met him in Covent Garden,had brought with him, to the great amazement of Weymouth and myself.
As I leaped back to the window and uplifted this primitive weapon, asecond shot sounded from below, and more fierce snarling, coughing, andguttural mutterings assailed my ears from beyond the pane.
Lifting the heavy blade, I brought it down with all my strength upon thenearer of those hairy arms where it crossed the window-ledge, severingmuscle, tendon and bone as easily as a knife might cut cheese....
A shriek--a shriek neither human nor animal, but gruesomely compoundedof both--followed... and merged into a choking cough. Like a flash theother shaggy arm was withdrawn, and some vaguely-seen body went rollingdown the sloping red tiles and crashed on to the ground beneath.
With a second piercing shriek, louder than that recently utteredby Burke, wailing through the night from somewhere below, I turneddesperately to the man on the bed, who now was become significantlysilent. A candle, with matches, stood upon a table hard by, and,my fingers far from steady, I set about obtaining a light. Thisaccomplished, I stood the candle upon the little chest-of-drawers andreturned to Burke's side.
"Merciful God!" I cried.
Of all the pictures which remain in my memory, some of them dark enough,I can find none more horrible than that which now confronted me in thedim candle-light. Burke lay crosswise on the bed, his head thrown backand sagging; one rigid hand he held in the air, and with the othergrasped the hairy forearm which I had severed with the ax; for, in adeath-grip, the dead fingers were still fastened, vise-like, at histhroat.
His face was nearly black, and his eyes projected from their socketshorribly. Mastering my repugnance, I seized the hideous piece ofbleeding anatomy and strove to release it. It defied all my efforts; indeath it was as implacable as in life. I took a knife from my pocket,and, tendon by tendon, cut away that uncanny grip from Burke's throat...
But my labor was in vain. Burke was dead!
I think I failed to realize this for some time. My clothes weresticking clammily to my body; I was bathed in perspiration, and, shakingfuriously, I clutched at the edge of the window, avoiding the bloodypatch upon the ledge, and looked out over the roofs to where, in themore distant plantations, I could hear excited voices. What had beenthe meaning of that scream which I had heard but to which in my franticstate of mind I had paid comparatively little attention?
There was a great stirring all about me.
"Smith!" I cried from the window; "Smith, for mercy's sake where areyou?"
Footsteps c
ame racing up the stairs. Behind me the door burst open andNayland Smith stumbled into the room.
"God!" he said, and started back in the doorway.
"Have you got it, Smith?" I demanded hoarsely. "In sanity's name what isit--what is it?"
"Come downstairs," replied Smith quietly, "and see for yourself." Heturned his head aside from the bed.
Very unsteadily I followed him down the stairs and through the ramblingold house out into the stone-paved courtyard. There were figuresmoving at the end of a long alleyway between the glass houses, and one,carrying a lantern, stooped over something which lay upon the ground.
"That's Burke's cousin with the lantern," whispered Smith in my ear;"don't tell him yet."
I nodded, and we hurried up to join the group. I found myself lookingdown at one of those thick-set Burmans whom I always associated withFu-Manchu's activities. He lay quite flat, face downward; but the backof his head was a shapeless blood-dotted mass, and a heavy stock-whip,the butt end ghastly because of the blood and hair which clung to it,lay beside him. I started back appalled as Smith caught my arm.
"It turned on its keeper!" he hissed in my ear. "I wounded it twice frombelow, and you severed one arm; in its insensate fury, its unreasoningmalignity, it returned--and there lies its second victim..."
"Then..."
"It's gone, Petrie! It has the strength of four men even now. Look!"
He stooped, and from the clenched left hand of the dead Burman,extracted a piece of paper and opened it.
"Hold the lantern a moment," he said.
In the yellow light he glanced at the scrap of paper.
"As I expected--a leaf of Burke's notebook; it worked by scent." Heturned to me with an odd expression in his gray eyes. "I wonder whatpiece of my personal property Fu-Manchu has pilfered," he said, "inorder to enable it to sleuth me?"
He met the gaze of the man holding the lantern.
"Perhaps you had better return to the house," he said, looking himsquarely in the eyes.
The other's face blanched.
"You don't mean, sir--you don't mean..."
"Brace up!" said Smith, laying his hand upon his shoulder. "Remember--hechose to play with fire!"
One wild look the man cast from Smith to me, then went off, staggering,toward the farm.
"Smith," I began...
He turned to me with an impatient gesture.
"Weymouth has driven into Upminster," he snapped; "and the wholedistrict will be scoured before morning. They probably motored here, butthe sounds of the shots will have enabled whoever was with the car tomake good his escape. And exhausted from loss of blood, its capture isonly a matter of time, Petrie."