The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu

by Sax Rohmer

  CHAPTER XVII

  A COOL breeze met us, blowing from the lower reaches of the Thames.Far behind us twinkled the dim lights of Low's Cottages, the lastregular habitations abutting upon the marshes. Between us and thecottages stretched half-a-mile of lush land through which at thisseason there were, however, numerous dry paths. Before us the flatsagain, a dull, monotonous expanse beneath the moon, with the promise ofthe cool breeze that the river flowed round the bend ahead. It wasvery quiet. Only the sound of our footsteps, as Nayland Smith and Itramped steadily towards our goal, broke the stillness of that lonelyplace.

  Not once but many times, within the last twenty minutes, I had thoughtthat we were ill-advised to adventure alone upon the capture of theformidable Chinese doctor; but we were following out our compact withKaramaneh; and one of her stipulations had been that the police mustnot be acquainted with her share in the matter.

  A light came into view far ahead of us.

  "That's the light, Petrie," said Smith. "If we keep that straightbefore us, according to our information we shall strike the hulk."

  I grasped the revolver in my pocket, and the presence of the littleweapon was curiously reassuring. I have endeavored, perhaps inextenuation of my own fears, to explain how about Dr. Fu-Manchu thererested an atmosphere of horror, peculiar, unique. He was not as othermen. The dread that he inspired in all with whom he came in contact,the terrors which he controlled and hurled at whomsoever cumbered hispath, rendered him an object supremely sinister. I despair ofconveying to those who may read this account any but the coldestconception of the man's evil power.

  Smith stopped suddenly and grasped my arm. We stood listening."What?" I asked.

  "You heard nothing?"

  I shook my head.

  Smith was peering back over the marshes in his oddly alert way. Heturned to me, and his tanned face wore a peculiar expression.

  "You don't think it's a trap?" he jerked. "We are trusting herblindly."

  Strange it may seem, but something within me rose in arms against theinnuendo.

  "I don't," I said shortly.

  He nodded. We pressed on.

  Ten minutes' steady tramping brought us within sight of the Thames.Smith and I both had noticed how Fu-Manchu's activities centered alwaysabout the London river. Undoubtedly it was his highway, his line ofcommunication, along which he moved his mysterious forces. The opiumden off Shadwell Highway, the mansion upstream, at that hour asmoldering shell; now the hulk lying off the marshes. Always he madehis headquarters upon the river. It was significant; and even ifto-night's expedition should fail, this was a clew for our futureguidance.

  "Bear to the right," directed Smith. "We must reconnoiter beforemaking our attack."

  We took a path that led directly to the river bank. Before us lay thegray expanse of water, and out upon it moved the busy shipping of thegreat mercantile city. But this life of the river seemed widelyremoved from us. The lonely spot where we stood had no kinship withhuman activity. Its dreariness illuminated by the brilliant moon, itlooked indeed a fit setting for an act in such a drama as that whereinwe played our parts. When I had lain in the East End opium den, whenupon such another night as this I had looked out upon a peacefulNorfolk countryside, the same knowledge of aloofness, of utterdetachment from the world of living men, had come to me.

  Silently Smith stared out at the distant moving lights.

  "Karamaneh merely means a slave," he said irrelevantly.

  I made no comment.

  "There's the hulk," he added.

  The bank upon which we stood dipped in mud slopes to the level of therunning tide. Seaward it rose higher, and by a narrow inlet--for weperceived that we were upon a kind of promontory--a rough pier showed.Beneath it was a shadowy shape in the patch of gloom which the moonthrew far out upon the softly eddying water. Only one dim light wasvisible amid this darkness.

  "That will be the cabin," said Smith.

  Acting upon our prearranged plan, we turned and walked up on to thestaging above the hulk. A wooden ladder led out and down to the deckbelow, and was loosely lashed to a ring on the pier. With every motionof the tidal waters the ladder rose and fell, its rings creakingharshly, against the crazy railing.

  "How are we going to get down without being detected?" whispered Smith.

  "We've got to risk it," I said grimly.

  Without further words my friend climbed around on to the ladder andcommenced to descend. I waited until his head disappeared below thelevel, and, clumsily enough, prepared to follow him.

  The hulk at that moment giving an unusually heavy heave, I stumbled,and for one breathless moment looked down upon the glittering surfacestreaking the darkness beneath me. My foot had slipped, and but that Ihad a firm grip upon the top rung, that instant, most probably, hadmarked the end of my share in the fight with Fu-Manchu. As it was I hada narrow escape. I felt something slip from my hip pocket, but theweird creaking of the ladder, the groans of the laboring hulk, and thelapping of the waves about the staging drowned the sound of the splashas my revolver dropped into the river.

  Rather white-faced, I think, I joined Smith on the deck. He hadwitnessed my accident, but--

  "We must risk it," he whispered in my ear. "We dare not turn back now."

  He plunged into the semi-darkness, making for the cabin, I perforcefollowing.

  At the bottom of the ladder we came fully into the light streaming outfrom the singular apartments at the entrance to which we foundourselves. It was fitted up as a laboratory. A glimpse I had ofshelves loaded with jars and bottles, of a table strewn with scientificparaphernalia, with retorts, with tubes of extraordinary shapes,holding living organisms, and with instruments--some of them of a formunknown to my experience. I saw too that books, papers and rolls ofparchment littered the bare wooden floor. Then Smith's voice roseabove the confused sounds about me, incisive, commanding:

  "I have you covered, Dr. Fu-Manchu!"

  For Fu-Manchu sat at the table.

  The picture that he presented at that moment is one which persistentlyclings in my memory. In his long, yellow robe, his masklike,intellectual face bent forward amongst the riot of singular objectsupon the table, his great, high brow gleaming in the light of theshaded lamp above him, and with the abnormal eyes, filmed and green,raised to us, he seemed a figure from the realms of delirium. But,most amazing circumstance of all, he and his surroundings tallied,almost identically, with the dream-picture which had come to me as Ilay chained in the cell!

  Some of the large jars about the place held anatomy specimens. A faintsmell of opium hung in the air, and playing with the tassel of one ofthe cushions upon which, as upon a divan, Fu-Manchu was seated, leapedand chattered a little marmoset.

  That was an electric moment. I was prepared for anything--for anythingexcept for what really happened.

  The doctor's wonderful, evil face betrayed no hint of emotion. Thelids flickered over the filmed eyes, and their greenness grewmomentarily brighter, and filmed over again.

  "Put up your hands!" rapped Smith, "and attempt no tricks." His voicequivered with excitement. "The game's up, Fu-Manchu. Find something totie him up with, Petrie."

  I moved forward to Smith's side, and was about to pass him in thenarrow doorway. The hulk moved beneath our feet like a living thinggroaning, creaking--and the water lapped about the rotten woodwork witha sound infinitely dreary.

  "Put up your hands!" ordered Smith imperatively.

  Fu-Manchu slowly raised his hands, and a smile dawned upon theimpassive features--a smile that had no mirth in it, only menace,revealing as it did his even, discolored teeth, but leaving the filmedeyes inanimate, dull, inhuman.

  He spoke softly, sibilantly.

  "I would advise Dr. Petrie to glance behind him before he moves."

  Smith's keen gray eyes never for a moment quitted the speaker. Thegleaming barrel moved not a hair's-breadth. But I glanced quickly overmy shoulder--and stifled a cry of pure horror.
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  A wicked, pock-marked face, with wolfish fangs bared, and jaundicedeyes squinting obliquely into mine, was within two inches of me. Alean, brown hand and arm, the great thews standing up like cords, helda crescent-shaped knife a fraction of an inch above my jugular vein. Aslight movement must have dispatched me; a sweep of the fearful weapon,I doubt not, would have severed my head from my body.

  "Smith!" I whispered hoarsely, "don't look around. For God's sake keephim covered. But a dacoit has his knife at my throat!"

  Then, for the first time, Smith's hand trembled. But his glance neverwavered from the malignant, emotionless countenance of Dr. Fu-Manchu.He clenched his teeth hard, so that the muscles stood out prominentlyupon his jaw.

  I suppose that silence which followed my awful discovery prevailed buta few seconds. To me those seconds were each a lingering death.

  There, below, in that groaning hulk, I knew more of icy terror than anyof our meetings with the murder-group had brought to me before; andthrough my brain throbbed a thought: the girl had betrayed us!

  "You supposed that I was alone?" suggested Fu-Manchu. "So I was."

  Yet no trace of fear had broken through the impassive yellow mask whenwe had entered.

  "But my faithful servant followed you," he added. "I thank him. Thehonors, Mr. Smith, are mine, I think?"

  Smith made no reply. I divined that he was thinking furiously.Fu-Manchu moved his hand to caress the marmoset, which had leapedplayfully upon his shoulder, and crouched there gibing at us in awhistling voice.

  "Don't stir!" said Smith savagely. "I warn you!"

  Fu-Manchu kept his hand raised.

  "May I ask you how you discovered my retreat?" he asked.

  "This hulk has been watched since dawn," lied Smith brazenly.

  "So?" The Doctor's filmed eyes cleared for a moment. "And to-day youcompelled me to burn a house, and you have captured one of my people,too. I congratulate you. She would not betray me though lashed withscorpions."

  The great gleaming knife was so near to my neck that a sheet ofnotepaper could scarcely have been slipped between blade and vein, Ithink; but my heart throbbed even more wildly when I heard those words.

  "An impasse," said Fu-Manchu. "I have a proposal to make. I assumethat you would not accept my word for anything?"

  "I would not," replied Smith promptly.

  "Therefore," pursued the Chinaman, and the occasional guttural alonemarred his perfect English, "I must accept yours. Of your resourcesoutside this cabin I know nothing. You, I take it, know as little ofmine. My Burmese friend and Doctor Petrie will lead the way, then; youand I will follow. We will strike out across the marsh for, say, threehundred yards. You will then place your pistol on the ground, pledgingme your word to leave it there. I shall further require your assurancethat you will make no attempt upon me until I have retraced my steps.I and my good servant will withdraw, leaving you, at the expiration ofthe specified period, to act as you see fit. Is it agreed?"

  Smith hesitated. Then:

  "The dacoit must leave his knife also," he stipulated. Fu-Manchusmiled his evil smile again.

  "Agreed. Shall I lead the way?"

  "No!" rapped Smith. "Petrie and the dacoit first; then you; I last."

  A guttural word of command from Fu-Manchu, and we left the cabin, withits evil odors, its mortuary specimens, and its strange instruments,and in the order arranged mounted to the deck.

  "It will be awkward on the ladder," said Fu-Manchu. "Dr. Petrie, I willaccept your word to adhere to the terms."

  "I promise," I said, the words almost choking me.

  We mounted the rising and dipping ladder, all reached the pier, andstrode out across the flats, the Chinaman always under close cover ofSmith's revolver. Round about our feet, now leaping ahead, nowgamboling back, came and went the marmoset. The dacoit, dressed solelyin a dark loin-cloth, walked beside me, carrying his huge knife, andsometimes glancing at me with his blood-lustful eyes. Never before, Iventure to say, had an autumn moon lighted such a scene in that place.

  "Here we part," said Fu-Manchu, and spoke another word to his follower.

  The man threw his knife upon the ground.

  "Search him, Petrie," directed Smith. "He may have a second concealed."

  The Doctor consented; and I passed my hands over the man's scantygarments.

  "Now search Fu-Manchu."

  This also I did. And never have I experienced a similar sense ofrevulsion from any human being. I shuddered, as though I had touched avenomous reptile.

  Smith threw down his revolver.

  "I curse myself for an honorable fool," he said. "No one could disputemy right to shoot you dead where you stand."

  Knowing him as I did, I could tell from the suppressed passion inSmith's voice that only by his unhesitating acceptance of my friend'sword, and implicit faith in his keeping it, had Dr. Fu-Manchu escapedjust retribution at that moment. Fiend though he was, I admired hiscourage; for all this he, too, must have known.

  The Doctor turned, and with the dacoit walked back. Nayland Smith'snext move filled me with surprise. For just as, silently, I wasthanking God for my escape, my friend began shedding his coat, collar,and waistcoat.

  "Pocket your valuables, and do the same," he muttered hoarsely. "Wehave a poor chance but we are both fairly fit. To-night, Petrie, weliterally have to run for our lives."

  We live in a peaceful age, wherein it falls to the lot of few men toowe their survival to their fleetness of foot. At Smith's words Irealized in a flash that such was to be our fate to-night.

  I have said that the hulk lay off a sort of promontory. East and west,then, we had nothing to hope for. To the south was Fu-Manchu; and evenas, stripped of our heavier garments, we started to run northward, theweird signal of a dacoit rose on the night and was answered--wasanswered again.

  "Three, at least," hissed Smith; "three armed dacoits. Hopeless."

  "Take the revolver," I cried. "Smith, it's--"

  "No," he rapped, through clenched teeth. "A servant of the Crown inthe East makes his motto: 'Keep your word, though it break your neck!'I don't think we need fear it being used against us. Fu-Manchu avoidsnoisy methods."

  So back we ran, over the course by which, earlier, we had come. Itwas, roughly, a mile to the first building--a deserted cottage--andanother quarter of a mile to any that was occupied.

  Our chance of meeting a living soul, other than Fu-Manchu's dacoits,was practically nil.

  At first we ran easily, for it was the second half-mile that woulddecide our fate. The professional murderers who pursued us ran likepanthers, I knew; and I dare not allow my mind to dwell upon thoseyellow figures with the curved, gleaming knives. For a long timeneither of us looked back.

  On we ran, and on--silently, doggedly.

  Then a hissing breath from Smith warned me what to expect.

  Should I, too, look back? Yes. It was impossible to resist the horridfascination.

  I threw a quick glance over my shoulder.

  And never while I live shall I forget what I saw. Two of the pursuingdacoits had outdistanced their fellow (or fellows), and were actuallywithin three hundred yards of us.

  More like dreadful animals they looked than human beings, running bentforward, with their faces curiously uptilted. The brilliant moonlightgleamed upon bared teeth, as I could see, even at that distance, evenin that quick, agonized glance, and it gleamed upon the crescent-shapedknives.

  "As hard as you can go now," panted Smith. "We must make an attempt tobreak into the empty cottage. Only chance."

  I had never in my younger days been a notable runner; for Smith Icannot speak. But I am confident that the next half-mile was done intime that would not have disgraced a crack man. Not once again dideither of us look back. Yard upon yard we raced forward together. Myheart seemed to be bursting. My leg muscles throbbed with pain. Atlast, with the empty cottage in sight, it came to that pass with mewhen another three yards looks as
unattainable as three miles. Once Istumbled.

  "My God!" came from Smith weakly.

  But I recovered myself. Bare feet pattered close upon our heels, andpanting breaths told how even Fu-Manchu's bloodhounds were hard put toit by the killing pace we had made.

  "Smith," I whispered, "look in front. Someone!"

  As through a red mist I had seen a dark shape detach itself from theshadows of the cottage, and merge into them again. It could only beanother dacoit; but Smith, not heeding, or not hearing, my faintlywhispered words, crashed open the gate and hurled himself blindly atthe door.

  It burst open before him with a resounding boom, and he pitched forwardinto the interior darkness. Flat upon the floor he lay, for as, with alast effort, I gained the threshold and dragged myself within, I almostfell over his recumbent body.

  Madly I snatched at the door. His foot held it open. I kicked thefoot away, and banged the door to. As I turned, the leading dacoit,his eyes starting from their sockets, his face the face of a demonleaped wildly through the gateway.

  That Smith had burst the latch I felt assured, but by some divineaccident my weak hands found the bolt. With the last ounce of strengthspared to me I thrust it home in the rusty socket--as a full six inchesof shining steel split the middle panel and protruded above my head.

  I dropped, sprawling, beside my friend.

  A terrific blow shattered every pane of glass in the solitary window,and one of the grinning animal faces looked in.

  "Sorry, old man," whispered Smith, and his voice was barely audible.Weakly he grasped my hand. "My fault. I shouldn't have let you come."

  From the corner of the room where the black shadows lay flicked a longtongue of flame. Muffled, staccato, came the report. And the yellowface at the window was blotted out.

  One wild cry, ending in a rattling gasp, told of a dacoit gone to hisaccount.

  A gray figure glided past me and was silhouetted against the brokenwindow.

  Again the pistol sent its message into the night, and again came thereply to tell how well and truly that message had been delivered. Inthe stillness, intense by sharp contrast, the sound of bare solespattering upon the path outside stole to me. Two runners, I thoughtthere were, so that four dacoits must have been upon our trail. Theroom was full of pungent smoke. I staggered to my feet as the grayfigure with the revolver turned towards me. Something familiar therewas in that long, gray garment, and now I perceived why I had thoughtso.

  It was my gray rain-coat.

  "Karamaneh," I whispered.

  And Smith, with difficulty, supporting himself upright, and holdingfast to the ledge beside the door, muttered something hoarsely, whichsounded like "God bless her!"

  The girl, trembling now, placed her hands upon my shoulders with thatquaint, pathetic gesture peculiarly her own.

  "I followed you," she said. "Did you not know I should follow you?But I had to hide because of another who was following also. I had butjust reached this place when I saw you running towards me."

  She broke off and turned to Smith.

  "This is your pistol," she said naively. "I found it in your bag.Will you please take it!"

  He took it without a word. Perhaps he could not trust himself to speak.

  "Now go. Hurry!" she said. "You are not safe yet."

  "But you?" I asked.

  "You have failed," she replied. "I must go back to him. There is noother way."

  Strangely sick at heart for a man who has just had a miraculous escapefrom death, I opened the door. Coatless, disheveled figures, my friendand I stepped out into the moonlight.

  Hideous under the pale rays lay the two dead men, their glazed eyesupcast to the peace of the blue heavens. Karamaneh had shot to kill,for both had bullets in their brains. If God ever planned a morecomplex nature than hers--a nature more tumultuous with conflictingpassions, I cannot conceive of it. Yet her beauty was of the sweetest;and in some respects she had the heart of a child--this girl who couldshoot so straight.

  "We must send the police to-night," said Smith. "Or the papers--"

  "Hurry," came the girl's voice commandingly from the darkness of thecottage.

  It was a singular situation. My very soul rebelled against it. Butwhat could we do?

  "Tell us where we can communicate," began Smith.

  "Hurry. I shall be suspected. Do you want him to kill me!"

  We moved away. All was very still now, and the lights glimmeredfaintly ahead. Not a wisp of cloud brushed the moon's disk.

  "Good-night, Karamaneh," I whispered softly.