Daughter of Fu Manchu

by Sax Rohmer

  "A messenger had been dispatched to el- Kharga to make sure that the Tibetan deputies had actually set out. He found them on the way. They must have succeeded in attracting his attention. That messenger was the third member of the Burmese party--the dacoit who was absent from the council.

  "The two gong notes told me what had happened. As Ki Ming began to speak-- denouncing us--I glanced back.

  "That gigantic Negro door-keeper--he had entered and approached us silently as a cat--was in the act of throwing a silk scarf over your head!... the third dacoit stood at my elbow.

  "One's brain acts swiftly at such times. I realized that the mandarin's orders were that we be taken alive. But simultaneously, I real- ized that the Sheikh al-Jebal had his atro- ciously wicked eyes fixed upon me in an unmistakable way.

  "These thoughts, these actions, occupied seconds. I could not possibly save you. Resis- tance to such men and such numbers was out of the question. I could only hope to save myself and to rescue you by cunning."

  Such a statement, spoken incisively, coolly, from another than Sir Denis Nayland Smith must have sounded equivocal. Coming from him, it sounded what it was--the considered decision of a master strategist.

  "You remember our position, Greville? We weren't ten paces from the steps on the top of which Fah Lo Suee stood. Anticipating the intention of the Old Man of the Mountain and of the Burman who now sprang like a leopard, I ducked. He missed me... and I raced across the floor, up the steps, and before madame could realise my purpose, had one arm around her waist and the muzzle of a pistol tight against her ear!"

  Nayland Smith paused for a moment, and we remained silent, spellbound, until:

  "She is not human, that woman," came a hushed voice. "She is a vampire--she had his blood in her."

  All eyes turned in the direction of the divan. Mrs. Petrie was the speaker.

  "I agree with you," Nayland Smith replied coolly. "A human woman would have screamed, fought, or fainted. Fah Lo Suee merely smiled, and scornfully. Nevertheless, I had won, for the moment. Her lips smiled, but her cold green eyes read the truth in mine.

  "Tell them," I directed her, 'that if anyone stirs a finger I shall shoot you!' "She continued to smile, and 'Please move your pistol,' she asked, 'so that I may speak.' I moved the pistol swiftly from her head to her heart. She looked aside at me and paid me a compliment which I shall always value: 'You are clever,' she said. Then she spoke to the petrified murderers in the room below.

  "I risked one swift glance.... You had disappeared, Greville. The Negro had carried you out!... Fah Lo Suee began to speak. The cloak of her father has fallen upon her. She spoke as coolly as if I had not been present. First in Chinese, then in Hindustani, and thirdly in Arabic.

  "Then: 'Order all to remain where they are,' I said--'except one, who is to give instructions for my friend to be brought to meet me outside the house.' She gave these orders--and the frustrated dacoit, who still crouched on the mattress where he had fallen, went to carry out my directions.

  "'Lead the way!' I said.

  "She turned; I knew I was safe for the moment. We entered a little room upon which the big doors opened. This room was not empty.... She was well guarded. And never can I forget her guards! Half a dozen words, however, reduced them to impotence. I could not afford to take my eyes off Fah Lo Suee for long; but nevertheless, as we passed through that anteroom, I solved a mystery. I grasped the explanation of something which has been puzzling us since it became evident that the first step in this new campaign of devilry was directed towards the Tomb of the Black Ape."

  He paused, beginning to knock out his pipe, and:

  "Yes, Sir Denis," I said eagerly, "go on!"

  He turned to me, smiling grimly.

  This is your particular province, Greville," he continued, "which fate brought into mine. It isn't any secret of the ancient Egyptians; it's something more dangerous-- more useful. For in that room, Petrie"--he turned now to the doctor-- "were phials, instruments, and queer-looking yellow-bound books. Also several caskets, definitely of Chinese workmanship. "

  "I'm afraid I don't understand," Petrie confessed. "Possibly I can enlighten you," said Nayland Smith, "for I think I have solved the mystery. At some time between his supposed death in 1917 and this year, Dr. Fu Manchu concealed there the essential secrets of his mastery of the Eastern world; the unique drugs, the unknown works dealing with their employment--and the powers, whether tangible-- amulets and signets--or instructional and contained in his papers, which gave him control of practically all the fanatical sects of the East."

  "Good God!" Weymouth murmured.

  "This was what Dr. Fu Manchu's daughter went to Egypt to recover. This was why Professor Zeitland was murdered. Barton escaped by a miracle. Their posses- sion, you understand...."

  He paused in his restless promenade and looked about from face to face.

  "Their possession made her mistress of the most formidable criminal organisation in the world!"

  5

  "I walked with Fah Lo Suee through that strange house, across a path to a garden at the back--not that through which we had entered--and out on to a narrow road bordering the wall on the side which faced the palm grove. This path was deserted.

  "Where is he?" I demanded.

  "Fah Lo Suee smiled a mocking smile, and:

  "Tou must be patient,' she replied. They have to bring him a long way.' "I pocketed my pistol and contented myself with keeping an arm around her. It was a natural gesture, but one for which I was to pay a high price, as I shall tell you.

  "Two men appeared around the angle of the wall carrying a limp body. They hesitated, looking towards us. Madame raised her hand. They came on.... I saw you, Greville, lying on the sandy path at my feet, insensible.

  "I continued to clutch Fah Lo Suee tightly, and now I reached for my pistol. I had detected one of the Negro bearers looking across my shoulder in a curiously significant way...."

  He paused and struck a match; then:

  "It was short warning," he added, "but it might have been enough. If I had had the pistol against Fah Lo Suee's ribs, today the world would be rid of a very dangerous devil.

  "Someone dropped from the wall behind me... and a swift blow with a sandbag concluded this episode!"

  Nayland Smith raised his hand reflectively to his skull.

  "I woke up amid complete silence, my head singing like a kettle. I was slow to realise the facts; but when I did I was appalled. That lonely house is shunned by all, I have learned; for the Sheikh Ismail has an evil reputa- tion as a dealer in Black Magic. I was a pris- oner there. What were my chances?

  "I was in a cell, Greville"--he suddenly turned to me in the course of his ceaseless rambling walk--"some three yards square. I was lying on the hard mud floor. Not a thing had been taken from me; even my pistol remained in my belt... and the sandbag which had downed me lay close by! A subtle touch, that--but to-night I capped the jest! A window, just beyond reach, admitted light. There wasn't a scrap of furniture in the place. It had a heavy door reinforced with iron. I was desperately thirsty... and on the ledge of the window above me, I saw a water-jar standing on a tray.

  "Knowing myself to be in Egypt and failing my experience of Chinese humour, I might have questioned the meaning of all this. But, looking at the lock of the door, and taking out my pistol--to learn that the shells had been withdrawn--I knew. And I resigned myself.

  "It was physically impossible to reach the water-jar on the window-ledge.

  "I had been judged worthy of that Chinese penalty known as The Protracted Death...."

  6

  "Perhaps I groaned when these facts forced themselves upon me. You see, Greville, as we entered the saloon I had recognized another undesirable acquaintance ... Ibrahim Bey--Swazi's twin brother! . "I have known Swazi Pasha for many years and in my newer capacity at Scotland Yard have had intimate dealings with him. Beyond doubt he stands between Turkey and that indeterminable menace which some believe to emanate from Moscow and
others from elsewhere--but which includes Turkey in its programme.

  "Recognising now the fact that Ibrahim-- a cold-blooded sedition monger--was a member of the Council of Seven, I knew! Here was the clue to those mysterious movements--of which you, Weymouth, had news, and which were painfully familiar to myself in the Near and Far East.

  "Swazi Pasha was doomed!... So, likewise was I--the one man who might have saved him!

  "You tell me, Weymouth, and you also, Petrie, that you searched the sheikh's house from roof to cellar. One spot of cellar you overlooked--the spot in which I awakened! "I had no means of knowing how long I had been unconscious. My wrist-watch remained but had been smashed, doubtless as I fell. I had no means of learning if the raid had taken place. Two ideas were paramount. First, your fate, Greville. Second, Swazi Pasha.

  "I considered the window carefully. It was some two feet square, protected by rusty- looking iron bars, and from the nature of the light which it admitted, I determined that I was in a cellar and that the time was early morning. I determined, also, that the window was inaccessible. A careful examination of the door convinced me that I had no means of opening it. And since not a sound reached me, it was then I resigned myself to that most horrible of deaths--starvation and thirst.... Thirst, with a moist jar of water standing on the ledge above me!

  "From my condition I judged that only a few hours had elapsed, and I detected a sporting gesture on the part of Fah Lo Suee --a gamble characteristically Chinese. If anyone chanced to pass that way I might be rescued! All this was surmise, of course, but I decided to test it. My eyes were burning feverishly. My head throbbed madly. But otherwise I was vigorous enough. Loudly I cried for help in English and in Arabic. Then, I listened intently.

  "There was no sound.

  "A Buddhist-like resignation was threat- ening me more and more. But I was by no means disposed to abandon myself to it. To sit down was impossible, otherwise than on the floor-- and I felt peculiarly limp. I leaned up against the door and weighed my chances.

  "And it was at this moment that a good man announced his presence. Failing him I shouldn't be here to-night!

  "I heard the howl of a dog!

  "Said! "

  "In that moment, Petrie"--instinctively Nayland Smith turned to his old friend--"the face of the world changed for me! The mood of resignation passed. Standing immediately under the window I howled a reply.

  "The signal was repeated. I answered it. And two minutes later I heard Said's voice above.

  "Details are unnecessary, now. He had to go back to the car for gear and a rope. Scram- bling down the shallow well with which the window communicated, he succeeded in wrenching the bars loose.

  "And so I climbed out, to find myself on the fringe of the palm grove. I can't blame you, Weymouth, for failing to discover this far-flung chamber of the Sheikh's house. Undoubtedly it had been designed for a dungeon. I can only suppose the iron-barred door communicated with a tunnel leading to the cellars.

  "My mind was made up. Beneath my monkish cowl I was an Arab, and an Arab I would remain! I was heart-sick about you, Greville, but knew that I could do nothing-- yet. Stamboul was my objective. The reason you failed to find the car in the gully was that I commandeered it for the overland journey to the railroad!

  "I had realized the efficiency of the organ- isation to which I was opposed. My funds were fortunately sufficient for my purpose, and I reached Stamboul a week after the raid on the house of the Sheikh Ismail. Officially, I was not present in Constantinople. But I acquainted myself with the latest news in the possession of Scotland Yard--through the medium of Kemal's police. Acting upon this, I checked his journey in Paris. The rest you know."

  Nayland Smith ceased speaking, and:

  "Something you do not know," said Mrs. Petrie from her shadowy corner on the divan. "I have seen him--Fu Manchu--in London to-night!"

  Nayland Smith turned to her.

  "You were never at fault, Karamaneh," he said. "Dr. Fu Manchu occupied rooms next to those of Swazi Pasha in Paris!"

  A taxi hooted outside in Piccadilly....

  Chapter Tenth

  ABBOTS HOLD

  "It all seems so peaceful," said Rima, clinging very tightly to my arm; "yet somehow, Shan, I never feel safe here. Last night, as I told you, I thought I saw the Abbots Hold ghost from my window.... "

  "A natural thing to imagine, darling," I replied reassuringly. "Every one of these old monastic houses has its phantom monk! But, even if authentic, no doubt he'd be a jovial fellow."

  As is the fashion of such autumn distur- bances, a storm which had been threatening all the evening hovered to the west, blackly. Remote peals of thunder there had been during the dinner, and two short but heavy showers. Now, although angry cloud banks were visible in the distance, immediately overhead the sky was cloudless.

  We sauntered on through the kitchen garden. A constant whispering in the trees told of moisture dripping from leaf to leaf. But the air was sweet and the path already dry. Rima's unrest was no matter for wonder, considering the experiences she had passed through. And when Sir Lionel had suggested our leaving London for the peace of his place in Norfolk, no one had welcomed the idea more heartily than I. In spite of intense activity on the part of Inspector Yale and his associates, all traces ofMadame Ingomar-- and other yet more formidable father--had vanished.

  But Nayland Smith considered that Sir Lionel, having served Fah Lo Suee's purpose --might now be considered safe from molestation and we had settled down in Abbots Hold for a spell of rest.

  "The queer thing is," Rima went on, a deep, earnest note coming into her voice, "that since Sir Denis joined us I have felt not more but less secure! "

  "That's very curious," I murmured, "because I've had an extraordinary feeling of the sort, myself. "

  "I suppose I'm very jumpy," Rima confessed. "But did you notice that family of gypsies who've camped beyond the big plantation? "

  "Yes, dear. I passed them to-day. I saw a boy--rather a good-looking boy he seemed to be, but I was some distance off--and an awful old hag of a woman. Do they worry you?"

  Rima laughed, unnaturally.

  "Not really. I haven't seen the boy. But the woman and man I met in the lane simply gave me the creeps--"

  She broke off; then:

  "Oh, Shan! what's that!" she whispered.

  A deep purring sound came to my ears-- continuous and strange. For a moment I stood still, whilst Rima's fingers clung close to mine. Then an explanation occurred to me.

  Not noticing our direction, we had reached the comer of a sort of out-house connected by a covered passage with part of the servants' quarters.

  "You understand now, darling," I said, and drew Rima forward to an iron-barred window.

  Bright moonlight made the interior visible; and coiled on the floor, his wicked little head raised to watch us, lay a graceful catlike creature whose black-spotted coat of gold gleamed through the dusk.

  It was Sir Lionel's Indian cheetah-- although fairly tame, at times a dangerous pet. Practical zoology had always been one of the chiefs hobbies.

  "Oh, thank heaven!" Rima exclaimed, looking down into the beautiful savage eyes which were raised to hers--"I might have guessed! But I never heard him purring before. "

  "He is evidently in a good humour," I said, as the great cat, with what I suppose was a friendly snarl, stood up with slow, feline grace, yawned, snarled again, and seemed to collapse wearily on the floor. The idea flashed through my mind that it was not a bad imitation of a drunken man! This idea was even better than I realized at the time.

  We walked on, round the west wing of the rambling old building, and finally entered the library by way of the french windows. Sir Lionel had certainly changed the atmosphere of this room. The spacious apartment with its oak-panelled walls and the great ceiling beams displayed the influences of the Orientalist in the form of numberless Eastern relics and curiosities, which seemed strangely out of place. Memories of the cloister clung more tenaciously
here--the old refectory-- than to any other room in Abbots Hold.

  A magnificent Chinese lacquer cabinet, fully six feet high, which stood like a grotesque sentry-box just below the newel post of the staircase, struck perhaps the most blatant discord of all.

  The library was empty, but I could hear the chief's loud voice in the study upstairs, and I knew that Nayland Smith was there with him. Petrie and his wife had been expected to dinner, but they had telephoned from Norwich to notify us that they would be detained overnight, owing to engine trouble.

  Mrs. Oram, Sir Lionel's white-haired old housekeeper, presently came in; and leaving her chatting with Rima, I went up the open oak staircase and joined the chief in his study.

  "Hullo, old scout!" he greeted me as I entered. "If you're going to work with me in future, you'll either have to chuck Rima or marry her!"

  He was standing on the hearthrug, domi- nating that small room, which was so laden with relics of his extensive and unusual travels that it resembled the shop of a very untidy antique dealer.

  Nayland Smith, seated on a comer of the littered writing-table, was tugging at the lobe of his left ear and staring critically at the big brown-skinned man with his untidy, grey- white hair and keen blue eyes who was England's most intrepid explorer and fore- most Orientalist. It was a toss-up which of these two contained more volcanic energy.

  "Smith's worried," Sir Lionel went on in his loud rapid manner. "He thinks our Chinese friends are up to their monkey tricks again and he doesn't like Petrie's delay. "

  "I don't," snapped Nayland Smith. "It may be an accident. But, coming to-night, I wonder-- "

  "Why to-night?" I asked.

  Nayland Smith stared at me intently; then:

  "Because to-night I caught a glimpse of the Abbots Hold ghost. "

  "Rot!" shouted Sir Lionel.

  "The monk?" I asked excitedly.

  Nayland Smith shook his head.

  "No! Didn't look like a monk to me," he said. "And I don't believe in ghosts!" he added.