President Fu Manchu f-8
Page 27
“Tragic news has just come to hand from Chicago,” they heard. “A woman known as Mrs. Valetti occupied Apartment 36 in the Doric Building on Lakeside. She was a beautiful brunette, and almost her only caller was a man believed to be her husband who frequently visited there. About 8.30 this evening, Miss Lola Dumas, whose marriage to Paul Salvaletti has been arranged to take place next month, came to the apartment. She had never been there before. She failed to get any reply to her ringing but was horrified to hear a woman’s scream. At her urgent request the door was opened by the resident manager, and a dreadful discovery was made.
“Mrs. Valetti and the man lay side by side upon the day-bed in the sitting-room. On the woman’s arms and on the man’s neck there were a number of blood-red spots. They were both dead, and a window was wide open. Miss Dumas collapsed on recognizing the man as her fiance, Paul Salvaletti. She is alleged to have uttered the words, ‘The Scarlet Bride’—which the police engaged on the case believe to relate to the dead woman. But Miss Dumas to whom the sympathy of the entire country goes out in this hour of her unimaginable sorrow, is critically ill and cannot be questioned.
“The crisis which this tragedy will create in political circles it would be impossible to exaggerate. . . .”
Chapter 40
“THUNDER OF WATERS”
“They’re just landing!” cried the man in the bows of the Customs launch—“at the old Indian Ferry.”
“Guess those Canadian bums showed ‘emselves,” growled another voice. “We had ‘em trapped, if they’d gone ashore where they planned.”
Nayland Smith, standing up and peering through night-glasses, saw a tall, dark figure on the rock-cut steps. It was unmistakable. It was Fu Manchu! He saw him beckon to the second passenger on the little motor-boat; and the other, a man whose hair shone like silver in the moonlight, joined him on the steps. A third remained in the boat at the wheel . Dr. Fu Manchu, arms folded, stood for a moment looking out across the river. He did not seem to be watching the approaching Customs craft so swiftly bearing down upon him, but rather to be studying the shadowed American bank, the frontier of the United States.
It came to Nayland Smith, as they drew nearer and nearer to the motionless figure, that Dr. Fu Manchu was bidding a silent farewell to the empire he had so nearly won. . . .
Just as words of command trembled on Smith’s lips Fu Manchu spoke to the occupant of the boat, turned, and with his white-haired companion strode up the steps—steps hewn by the Red man in days before any white traveller had seen or heard “The Thunder of Waters.”
The motor-boat spluttered into sudden life and set off down-stream.
“Stop that man!” rapped Nayland Smith.
Dr. Fu Manchu and the other already were lost in the shadow.
“Heave to—Federal orders!” roared a loud voice.
Farmer Clutterbuck’s motor-boat was kept on its course.
“Shall we let him have it?
“Yes—but head for the steps.”
Three shots came almost together. Raising the glasses again, Nayland Smith had a glimpse of a form crouching low over the wheel . . . then a bluff which protected the Indian Ferry obscured the boat from sight. As they swung in to the steps:
“What was that move?” somebody inquired. “I guess we missed him anyway.”
But Nayland Smith was already running up the steps. He found himself in a narrow gorge on one side completely overhung by tangled branches. He flashed a light ahead. Three Federal agents came clattering up behind him.
“What I’m wondering,” said one, “is, where’s Captain Hepburn.”
Nayland Smith wondered also. Hepburn, in another launch, had been put ashore higher up on the Canadian bank, armed with Smith’s personal card upon which a message had been scribbled. . . .
Dr. Fu Manchu and his companion seemed to have disappeared.
But now, heralded by a roar of propellers, Captain Kingswell came swooping down out of the night, and the first Very light burst directly overhead! Nayland Smith paused, raised his glasses and stared upward. Kingswell, flying very low, circled, dipped, and headed down river.
“He’s seen them!” snapped Smith.
Came a dim shouting . . . Hepburn was heading in their direction. A second light broke.
“By God!” Nayland Smith cried savagely, “are we all blind? Look at Kingswell’s signals. They have rejoined the motor-boat at some place below!”
Two more army planes flew into view. . . .
“Back to the launch!” Smith shouted.
But when at last they set out again, the bat-like manoeuvres of the aviators and the points at which they threw out their flares indicated that the cunning quarry had a long start. It seemed to Nayland Smith, crouched in the bows, staring ahead, that time, elastic, had stretched out to infinity. Then he sighted the motor-boat. Kingswell, above, was flying just ahead of it. He threw out a light.
In the glare, while it prevailed, a grim scene was shown. The man at the wheel (probably the same who had piloted the plane) lay over it, if not dead, unconscious; and the silver-haired passenger was locked in a fierce struggle with Dr. Fu Manchu!
Professor Morgenstahl’s hour had come! In the stress of that last fight for freedom the Doctor’s control, for a matter of seconds only, had relaxed. But in those seconds Morgenstahl had acted. . . .
“This is where we check out!” came a cry. “Hard over, Jim!” Absorbed in the drama being played before him—a drama the real significance of which he could only guess—Nayland Smith had remained deaf to the deepening roar of the river. Suddenly the launch rolled and swung about. “What’s this?” he shouted, turning. “Twenty lengths more and we’d be in the rapids!” The rapids!
He craned his head, looking astern. Somewhere, far back, a light broke. Three planes were flying low over the river . . . and now to his ears came the awesome song of Niagara, “The Thunder of Waters.”
An icy hand seemed to touch Nayland Smith’s heart. . . . Dr. Fu Manchu had been caught in the rapids; no human power nor his own superlative genius could prevent his being carried over the great falls! The man who had dared to remodel nature’s forces had been claimed at last by the gods he had outraged.
The End
FB2 document info
Document ID: 41eb2dca-4004-4e92-98dc-a81e891b4d4c
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 1.9.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.67 software
Document authors :
Sax Rohmer
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