by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXX. THE CALL OF THE EAST
I seemed to haul myself back out of the pit of unconsciousness by theaid of two little hands which clasped my own. I uttered a sigh that wasalmost a sob, and opened my eyes.
I was sitting in the big red-leathern armchair in my own study... and alovely but truly bizarre figure, in a harem dress, was kneeling on thecarpet at my feet; so that my first sight of the world was the sweetestsight that the world had to offer me, the dark eyes of Karamaneh, withtears trembling like jewels upon her lashes!
I looked no further than that, heeded not if there were others in theroom beside we two, but, gripping the jewel-laden fingers in what musthave been a cruel clasp, I searched the depths of the glorious eyesin ever growing wonder. What change had taken place in those limpid,mysterious pools? Why was a wild madness growing up within me like aflame? Why was the old longing returned, ten-thousandfold, to snatchthat pliant, exquisite shape to my breast?
No word was spoken, but the spoken words of a thousand ages could nothave expressed one tithe of what was held in that silent communion. Ahand was laid hesitatingly on my shoulder. I tore my gaze away from thelovely face so near to mine, and glanced up.
Aziz stood at the back of my chair.
"God is all merciful," he said. "My sister is restored to us" (I lovedhim for the plural); "and she remembers."
Those few words were enough; I understood now that this lovely girl, whohalf knelt, half lay, at my feet, was not the evil, perverted creatureof Fu-Manchu whom we had gone out to arrest with the other vile servantsof the Chinese doctor, but was the old, beloved companion of two yearsago, the Karamaneh for whom I had sought long and wearily in Egypt, whohad been swallowed up and lost to me in that land of mystery.
The loss of memory which Fu-Manchu had artificially induced was subjectto the same inexplicable laws which ordinarily rule in cases of amnesia.The shock of her brave action that night had begun to effect a cure; thesight of Aziz had completed it.
Inspector Weymouth was standing by the writing-table. My mind clearedrapidly now, and standing up, but without releasing the girl's hands, sothat I drew her up beside me, I said:
"Weymouth--where is--?"
"He's waiting to see you, Doctor," replied the inspector.
A pang, almost physical, struck at my heart.
"Poor, dear old Smith!" I cried, with a break in my voice.
Dr. Gray, a neighboring practitioner, appeared in the doorway at themoment that I spoke the words.
"It's all right, Petrie," he said, reassuringly; "I think we took itin time. I have thoroughly cauterized the wounds, and granted that nocomplication sets in, he'll be on his feet again in a week or two."
I suppose I was in a condition closely bordering upon the hysterical. Atany rate, my behavior was extraordinary. I raised both my hands above myhead.
"Thank God!" I cried at the top of my voice, "thank God!--thank God!"
"Thank Him, indeed," responded the musical voice of Aziz. He spoke withall the passionate devoutness of the true Moslem.
Everything, even Karamaneh was forgotten, and I started for the door asthough my life depended upon my speed. With one foot upon the landing, Iturned, looked back, and met the glance of Inspector Weymouth.
"What have you done with--the body?" I asked.
"We haven't been able to get to it. That end of the vault collapsed twominutes after we hauled you out!"
As I write, now, of those strange days, already they seem remote andunreal. But, where other and more dreadful memories already are grownmisty, the memory of that evening in my rooms remains clear-cut andintimate. It marked a crisis in my life.
During the days that immediately followed, whilst Smith was slowlyrecovering from his hurts, I made my plans deliberately; I prepared tocut myself off from old associations--prepared to exile myself, gladly;how gladly I cannot hope to express in mere cold words.
That my friend approved of my projects, I cannot truthfully state, buthis disapproval at least was not openly expressed. To Karamaneh I saidnothing of my plans, but her complete reliance in my powers to protecther, now, from all harm, was at once pathetic and exquisite.
Since, always, I have sought in these chronicles to confine myself tothe facts directly relating to the malignant activity of Dr. Fu-Manchu,I shall abstain from burdening you with details of my private affairs.As an instrument of the Chinese doctor, it has sometimes been my dutyto write of the beautiful Eastern girl; I cannot suppose that my readershave any further curiosity respecting her from the moment that Fatefreed her from that awful servitude. Therefore, when I shall havedealt with the episodes which marked our voyage to Egypt--I had openednegotiations in regard to a practice in Cairo--I may honorably lay downmy pen.
These episodes opened, dramatically, upon the second night of the voyagefrom Marseilles.
