The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu

by Sax Rohmer

  CHAPTER XXIX. THE SIX GATES

  He glanced toward the Burman, who retired immediately, to re-enter amoment later carrying a curious leather sack, in shape not unlike thatof a sakka or Arab water-carrier. Opening a little trap in the topof the first compartment of the cage (that is, the compartment whichcovered Smith's bare feet and ankles) he inserted the neck of the sack,then suddenly seized it by the bottom and shook it vigorously. Beforemy horrified gaze four huge rats came tumbling out from the bag into thecage! The dacoit snatched away the sack and snapped the shutter fast. Amoving mist obscured my sight, a mist through which I saw the greeneyes of Dr. Fu-Manchu fixed upon me, and through which, as from a greatdistance, his voice, sunk to a snake-like hiss, came to my ears.

  "Cantonese rats, Dr. Petrie, the most ravenous in the world... they haveeaten nothing for nearly a week!"

  Then all became blurred as though a painter with a brush steeped in redhad smudged out the details of the picture. For an indefinite period,which seemed like many minutes yet probably was only a few seconds, Isaw nothing and heard nothing; my sensory nerves were dulled entirely.From this state I was awakened and brought back to the realities by asound which ever afterward I was doomed to associate with that ghastlyscene.

  This was the squealing of the rats.

  The red mist seemed to disperse at that, and with frightfully intenseinterest, I began to study the awful torture to which Nayland Smith wasbeing subjected. The dacoit had disappeared, and Fu-Manchu placidly waswatching the four lean and hideous animals in the cage. As I also turnedmy eyes in that direction, the rats overcame their temporary fear, andbegan...

  "You have been good enough to notice," said the Chinaman, his voicestill sunk in that sibilant whisper, "my partiality for dumb allies. Youhave met my scorpions, my death-adders, my baboon-man. The uses of sucha playful little animal as a marmoset have never been fully appreciatedbefore, I think, but to an indiscretion of this last-named pet of mine,I seem to remember that you owed something in the past, Dr. Petrie..."

  Nayland Smith stifled a deep groan. One rapid glance I ventured at hisface. It was a grayish hue, now, and dank with perspiration. His gazemet mine.

  The rats had almost ceased squealing.

  "Much depends upon yourself, Doctor," continued Fu-Manchu, slightlyraising his voice. "I credit Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith with couragehigh enough to sustain the raising of all the gates; but I estimate thestrength of your friendship highly, also, and predict that you will usethe sword of the samurai certainly not later than the time when I shallraise the third gate...."

  A low shuddering sound, which I cannot hope to describe, but alas I cannever forget, broke from the lips of the tortured man.

  "In China," resumed Fu-Manchu, "we call this quaint fancy the Six Gatesof joyful Wisdom. The first gate, by which the rats are admitted, iscalled the Gate of joyous Hope; the second, the Gate of Mirthful Doubt.The third gate is poetically named, the Gate of True Rapture, and thefourth, the Gate of Gentle Sorrow. I once was honored in the friendshipof an exalted mandarin who sustained the course of joyful Wisdom to theraising of the Fifth Gate (called the Gate of Sweet Desires) and theadmission of the twentieth rat. I esteem him almost equally with myancestors. The Sixth, or Gate Celestial--whereby a man enters into thejoy of Complete Understanding--I have dispensed with, here, substitutinga Japanese fancy of an antiquity nearly as great and honorable. Theintroduction of this element of speculation, I count a happy thought,and accordingly take pride to myself."

  "The sword, Petrie!" whispered Smith. I should not have recognized hisvoice, but he spoke quite evenly and steadily. "I rely upon you, oldman, to spare me the humiliation of asking mercy from that yellowfiend!"

  My mind throughout this time had been gaining a sort of dreadfulclarity. I had avoided looking at the sword of hara-kiri, but mythoughts had been leading me mercilessly up to the point at which wewere now arrived. No vestige of anger, of condemnation of the inhumanbeing seated in the ebony chair, remained; that was past. Of all thathad gone before, and of what was to come in the future, I thoughtnothing, knew nothing. Our long fight against the yellow group, ourencounters with the numberless creatures of Fu-Manchu, the dacoits--evenKaramaneh--were forgotten, blotted out. I saw nothing of the strangeappointments of that subterranean chamber; but face to face with thesupreme moment of a lifetime, I was alone with my poor friend--and God.

  The rats began squealing again. They were fighting...

  "Quick, Petrie! Quick, man! I am weakening...."

  I turned and took up the samurai sword. My hands were very hot and dry,but perfectly steady, and I tested the edge of the heavy weapon upon myleft thumb-nail as quietly as one might test a razor blade. It wasas keen, this blade of ghastly history, as any razor ever wrought inSheffield. I seized the graven hilt, bent forward in my chair, andraised the Friend's Sword high above my head. With the heavy weaponpoised there, I looked into my friend's eyes. They were feverishlybright, but never in all my days, nor upon the many beds of sufferingwhich it had been my lot to visit, had I seen an expression like thatwithin them.

  "The raising of the First Gate is always a crucial moment," came theguttural voice of the Chinaman. Although I did not see him, and barelyheard his words, I was aware that he had stood up and was bendingforward over the lower end of the cage.

  "Now, Petrie! now! God bless you... and good-by..."

  From somewhere--somewhere remote--I heard a hoarse and animal-like cry,followed by the sound of a heavy fall. I can scarcely bear to write ofthat moment, for I had actually begun the downward sweep of the greatsword when that sound came--a faint Hope, speaking of aid where I hadthought no aid possible.

  How I contrived to divert the blade, I do not know to this day; but Ido know that its mighty sweep sheared a lock from Smith's head and laidbare the scalp. With the hilt in my quivering hands I saw the blade bitedeeply through the carpet and floor above Nayland Smith's skull. There,buried fully two inches in the woodwork, it stuck, and still clutchingthe hilt, I looked to the right and across the room--I looked to thecurtained doorway.

  Fu-Manchu, with one long, claw-like hand upon the top of the First Gate,was bending over the trap, but his brilliant green eyes were turned inthe same direction as my own--upon the curtained doorway.

  Upright within it, her beautiful face as pale as death, but her greateyes blazing with a sort of splendid madness, stood Karamaneh!

  She looked, not at the tortured man, not at me, but fully at Dr.Fu-Manchu. One hand clutched the trembling draperies; now she suddenlyraised the other, so that the jewels on her white arm glittered in thelight of the lamp above the door. She held my Browning pistol! Fu-Manchusprang upright, inhaling sibilantly, as Karamaneh pointed the pistolpoint blank at his high skull and fired....

  I saw a little red streak appear, up by the neutral colored hair, underthe black cap. I became as a detached intelligence, unlinked with thecorporeal, looking down upon a thing which for some reason I had neverthought to witness.

  Fu-Manchu threw up both arms, so that the sleeves of the green robefell back to the elbows. He clutched at his head, and the black capfell behind him. He began to utter short, guttural cries; he swayedbackward--to the right--to the left then lurched forward right acrossthe cage. There he lay, writhing, for a moment, his baneful eyes turnedup, revealing the whites; and the great gray rats, released, beganleaping about the room. Two shot like gray streaks past the slim figurein the doorway, one darted behind the chair to which I was lashed,and the fourth ran all around against the wall... Fu-Manchu, prostrateacross the overturned cage, lay still, his massive head saggingdownward.

  I experienced a mental repetition of my adventure in the earlierevening--I was dropping, dropping, dropping into some bottomless pit ...warm arms were about my neck; and burning kisses upon my lips.