by Sax Rohmer
“What?” I asked eagerly.
“I knew her, Sterling! Yes! I know who she is, this mystery girl who has taken such a hold upon you.”
“But, Sir Denis, do you mean...”
“I understand your eagerness, and you shall hear everything later. I was anxious to learn the colour of her eyes. You see, they were closed; she was asleep. I retired without disturbing her. I next descended the stairs.”
“Good God! I wish I had your nerve!”
“Really, I had very little to fear.”
“You may think so—but please go on, Sir Denis.”
“My guide, of course, had disappeared, but I found a square space with corridors opening right and left. The trail of wet rubber boots gave me the clue. The imprint of fingers on a panel three feet from the floor enabled me to open the door. I found myself in that insane laboratory—”
“Insane is the word,” I murmured.
“It was empty. It was permeated by a dim, violet light. And as I entered—the door closed! I was particularly intrigued by a piece of mechanism resembling an ancient Egyptian harp.”
“I noticed it, also.”
“I determined to investigate more closely, but there was a black mark on the floor surrounding the table on which this piece of mechanism stood—”
“Say no more, Sir Denis! I have had the same experience.”
“Oh! Is that so? This rather checked me. I observed that such a mark ran entirely around the laboratory close to the wall: you may have failed to notice this? And I can only suppose that this system of checking intruders had been disconnected in relation to the doors because the unknown man, who had unwittingly acted as my guide, was expected.
“As the idea flashed across my mind, I had no more than time to duck when the man in question came out!
“A panel slid open on the left-hand wall, and a Chinaman, still wearing wet gum boots, closed the door behind him, crossed the laboratory, opened another door on the farther side, and disappeared.
“I waited for a while, listening to a sort of throbbing which alone disturbed the silence, and then I too ventured to open that door. Do you know what I found?”
“I can guess.”
“I found myself face to face with Dr. Fu-Manchu...”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
RECALL
“For the last twenty years, Sterling, I have prayed for an opportunity to rid the world of this monster. My automatic was raised; I could have shot him where he sat. He hadn’t a chance in a million. You know the room? I saw you come out of it.
“He was seated in that throne-like chair behind the big table, and his marmoset, that wizened little creature which I haven’t seen for fifteen years, was asleep on his shoulder. The reek told me the story—Dr. Fu-Manchu has always been addicted to opium. He was asleep.”
“I know!” I groaned.
“You evidently conquered the same temptation. But I am still wondering if we are right. When I decided that I couldn’t shoot him as he slept, I cursed my own ridiculous prejudices. A hundred, perhaps a thousand, deaths lay at this man’s door—yet, it was impossible.
“I looked at him, seated there, and his crimes made a sort of bloody mountain behind him. I have never known so keen a temptation in my life, and I have never felt so deep a self-contempt in resisting one.
“Suddenly, I observed a door on the right of his chair, and I knew that Dr. Fu-Manchu as an adversary might be disregarded for the moment. There was a button beside this door. I opened it and saw a second, a pace beyond. I opened this also.
“And I found myself looking into a tropical jungle! At which moment the marmoset awakened, uttered its shrill, whistling cry, and whirled past me, disappearing among the trees in that misty place.
“I turned, my automatic raised, watching Fu-Manchu. He didn’t move. I ventured to take a step into that huge glasshouse. I looked all about me, at the banks of flowers, and up into the palm-tops. Further exploration would be madness, I thought. I had achieved my purpose.
“My next step was to get out, undetected, as I had got in. I had just turned, intent upon the idea of creeping back into the room of Fu-Manchu, when I heard a sound of soft footsteps up among the palm-tops.
“This hastened my action. Without attempting to close the communicating doors, I crept back across the carpet of the study and out into the big laboratory. I hesitated there for a moment; but finally I closed the door. I stood still, listening.
“But apart from the throbbing, which apparently never ceased, there was no movement to be perceived.
“Avoiding the black marks, I set out, moving rapidly to the right. As I neared the wall at the end of that huge place, which, as you have probably realized, is built entirely underground, an unpleasant fact dawned upon me.
“I could not remember at which point I had entered! And the blank spaces on the wall offered no clue.
“I was making tentative experiments when I heard someone come out from Dr. Fu-Manchu’s study... I dived for cover.
“The black marks upon the floor I knew I must avoid, and I had just found a hiding place when someone began to walk along the laboratory towards me! Beyond the fact that he wore white overalls I had no means, from the position which I occupied, of identifying him.
“I saw this figure go up to a recess between two tall cases. The walls being divided into panels by a sort of metal beading, I was determined to make no mistake, and I crept forward in order to watch more closely.
“In my eagerness, I allowed one foot to intrude upon a black mark surrounding an instrument resembling a searchlight. The shock which ran up my leg brought me flatly to the floor. I cursed under my breath and lay there prone.
“When I ventured to look up, the man in the white overalls had disappeared.
“The wall displayed its former even surface. But I knew where the door was, and I knew that I could open it by pressing hard three feet from the floor.
“Evidently, I had not been detected. I allowed fifty or sixty seconds to elapse, and then, in turn, I opened the door. I saw a flight of stairs ahead of me, and recognized them for those which I had descended. As I crept cautiously on to the first step, the door closed behind me.
“I waited, listening.
“Very faintly, for these mechanisms are beautifully adjusted, I heard a door above being opened. I remembered it: it was the door by which I had come in.
“The rest, Sterling, you know. An unknown man, for I had never had a glimpse of your face, and your attire was unfamiliar, was moving somewhere between me and the shore which I desired to reach.”
He stopped, and:
“What’s that?” he whispered.
An elfin note, audible above the faint sound of the sea, had reached my ears, as it had reached his.
“Someone is calling me,” I said. “My absence has been noted.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I OBEY
I often remember the silence which fell between us at that moment. I thought I knew what Nayland Smith was thinking—perhaps because I was thinking the same myself.
“It’s asking a lot, Sterling,” he said at last. “I have a good old-fashioned police whistle in my pocket, and there’s a police boat standing by. But I told you a while ago that an idea had occurred to me.”
Remembering what Sir Denis had done that night, how, alone, he had penetrated to this secret stronghold of Dr. Fu-Manchu, I set my course, and when next he spoke, I was glad I had done so. His idea was mine!
“What’s the mechanism?” he asked sharply. “You said, I think, it was a ring?”
I slipped the ring from my finger and handed it to him. Already I saw his plan, and my part in it. But I was full out for the role he had allotted to me, although I doubted seriously if I should live to see it through.
He stood up, and silhouetted against the skyline I saw him tugging at the lobe of his ear; then:
“I have no right to ask what I am going to ask, Sterling,” he began.
“I
had thought of it already,” I interrupted. “I am game. This is a fight to a finish, and you are in charge, Sir Denis. Just give me my orders.”
He reached out and grasped my shoulder.
“Unless my calculations are wildly at fault, Sterling, Petrie is up there, in that house—dead or alive—I don’t know which. But I want to know, before I make my next move.”
Dimly I saw him slip the adjustable ring upon his finger, and then:
“I will come back to the door,” he said. “The whistle will be audible from that point to the men in the boat. Make straight for the dial—the one Herman Trenck explained to you. The curse is, you don’t know Morse.”
“I have the code in my pocket.”
“It isn’t easy to work from printed instructions,” he rapped back. “What I have in mind is this: If you are not suspected, just call your number. What is it?”
“103,” I replied. “It’s on the ring.”
“Good enough. Failing such a message within a period of ten minutes, I shall raid the house at once: I have it covered.”
“That’s quite clear, Sir Denis.”
“In the event of your giving me the O.K., I shall wait for the Morse message—but I shall wait only half an hour. The plain call again will tell me. Try to find out if Petrie is there—and if he is alive or dead. One sustained note to mean that he is there, but dead: two short ones, that he is there, but alive.”
And as he spoke he was urging me forward, up the path, grasping my arm and firing me with that vital enthusiasm of which he had such an abundant store.
“There may be difficulties about the missing ring,” I suggested.
“A point I had been considering,” he returned. “Have you any suggestions? You know the place better than I do. Where might you have lost it?—where would it be difficult to find?”
“Among the aquatic plants,” I replied; “some of them grow in deep water.”
“Good!” he snapped. “Let it be the aquatic plants. Do your damnedest in the next half hour to find old Petrie; then run for it. I shall be waiting for you...”
We proceeded now in silence, groping our way along that perilous path. Once again I found myself listening for that high, strange call-note; but it never came.
We mounted the many stone steps and reached the terrace. I saw a dim light shining out upon the pavement. The door was open.
“I left it open,” said Nayland Smith, in a low voice. “I’ll stay here. Send me the signal as soon as you are assured of your own safety.” He grasped my hand hard. “Good luck! In half an hour...”
As I reached the open door and realized that I was about to enter again the house of Dr. Fu-Manchu, a qualm touched me, for which I hope I may be forgiven.
It passed as swiftly as it came. It was succeeded by a feeling of shame, by a memory of what Sir Denis had done that night.
I stepped inside, looking swiftly right and left. The green lamp still burned at the end of the long corridor. And remembering who was sleeping there, I watched it lingeringly. Then I looked down the stairs, and I stood still, listening.
No one was in sight, and there was not a sound audible. I pressed my finger upon the control button twice; the door closed. Then I began to descend the stairs.
Reaching the foot, I groped with my hand upon the panel which I knew concealed the door. Presently it responded, and bathed in that dim violet light I saw the great laboratory ahead of me.
It was empty.
I stepped forward—and the door closed behind me. I began to cross the rubber-covered floor, heading for Dr. Fu-Manchu’s study.
This was the supreme moment.
I was disposed to think that it was he, awakening, who had summoned me. I lost count of time as I stood before that blank wall, charging myself with cowardice, flogging my failing courage.
At last I took the plunge... and the door opened.
He sat there like the mummy of Seti the First, upright on his throne. Opium still held him in its grasp. A jungle smell was mingling now with the poppy fumes, for the doors leading into the great palm house remained open. The marmoset was crouching on that yellow shoulder, nor did he stir as I went tiptoe across the carpet.
So far, I was safe.
I closed the first door, hurried to the second, and closed that also. I hadn’t the courage to pause to adjust the gauge. I ran through the place, ducking to avoid overhanging branches, many of them flower-laden. And coming to the next door I pulled up and listened.
There was no pursuit.
From thence onward, I adjusted all the gauges, until, opening the final door, I stepped into the botanical research room, from which I had set out upon that memorable pilgrimage...
Stock still I pulled up on the threshold. Fleurette stood there watching me!
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DERCETO
“Fleurette!” I exclaimed.
She wore a silk wrap over night attire; sandals on her slim brown feet. She watched me gravely.
“Fleurette! Who called me?”
“I called you.”
“But”—I was astounded—“how did you know—?”
“I know most of the things that go on here,” she returned calmly.
I moved nearer to her and looked at the dial close to which she was standing. My number—103—was registered upon it; and:
“How often did you call me?” I asked.
“Twice.”
Her unmoving regard, in which there was an unpleasant question, began to disturb me.
My conception of her as a victim of the powerful and evil man who sought to destroy white civilization was entirely self-created. I remembered that she had been reared in this atmosphere from birth; and conscious of an unpleasant chill I realized that she, whom I had regarded as a partner in misfortune, an ally, might prove to be the means of my unmasking. I decided to be diplomatic.
“Yes—of course you called me twice,” I replied.
The second call would have been taken by Nayland Smith! How would he have read it?
“Why didn’t you come?” she asked. “Where were you?”
Her beautiful eyes were fixed upon me with a regard which I found almost terrifying. An hour before, an instant before, I would have met her gaze gladly, happily; but now—I wondered.
After all, the romance between this girl and myself existed only in my own imagination. It was built upon nothing but a stairs of sand—her remarkable beauty. She was, as Dr. Fu-Manchu had said, that most rare jewel—a perfect woman.
But I—I was far removed from a perfect man. Vanity had blinded me. She belonged body and soul to the group surrounding the Chinese doctor. And perhaps it was no more than poetic justice that she and none of the others should expose me.
“I was in the palm house. I had never seen such trees. And, as you know, I am a botanist.”
“But you were a long time coming,” she insisted. “You are sure you were alone?”
As if a black cloud had lifted, I saw—or dared to hope that I saw—the truth in the regard of those sunset violet eyes. Or was it vanity, self-delusion, again? But, moving nearer to her:
“Alone!” I echoed. “Who could be with me at this hour of the night?”
And now at last, unfalteringly, I looked into her eyes.
“The Princess is very beautiful,” she said, in a low voice.
“The Princess?”
I had no idea at the moment to whom she referred; but chaotically, delightfully, it was as I had dared to hope!
My sudden, wild passion for this exquisite, unattainable girl had not failed utterly of its objective. She was sufficiently interested to be jealous! And now, watching her, it dawned upon me to whom she referred.
“Do you mean Fah Lo Suee?”
She made a little grimace and turned aside.
“I wondered why you had joined us,” she murmured. “If she is Fah Lo Suee to you—I know. I was merely curious. Goodnight.”
“Fleurette!” I cried. “Fleurette!”
/> She turned and walked away.
She did not look back.
I sprang forward, threw my arms around her and held her.
Even so, she did not look back; she merely stood still. But my doubts, my diffidence, were gone: my heart was singing...
She had given me that age-old sign which is woman’s prerogative. The next move was mine. Revelation was so sudden, so wholly unexpected, that it swept me out of myself. To my shame I confess that, although vast issues hung in the balance, establishment of an understanding with Fleurette was the only thing in life at which at that moment I aimed.
I had fallen irrevocably in love with her at first sight.
Recognition of the fact that she was interested produced a state of mind little short of delirium.
“Fleurette!” I said, holding her tightly and bending close to her averted head, “that woman you call the Princess I call Fah Lo Suee because I was told that that was her name: I know her by no other. She means nothing more to me than I thought I meant to you. I had seen her once only in my life before I came here...”
I checked my words: I had been on the point of saying too much. Fah Lo Suee had told me, “she has Eastern blood in her, and to Eastern women love comes suddenly.” Of all that Fu-Manchu’s daughter had revealed, this alone I was disposed to believe.
Fleurette turned quickly and looked up at me.
Nothing, I think, short of sudden death could have checked me then.
Raising my left hand to her shoulder, I twisted her about, so that I had her clasped in my arms. And stooping to those delicious, tremulous lips, I kissed her until we both were breathless.
One instantaneous moment there was of rebellion, and then such exquisite surrender that when presently she buried her lovely little head in my shoulder, so that I could feel her heart beating, I think there was in the whole world no happier man than I.
