The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu

by Sax Rohmer

  CHAPTER XX

  IT was with my mind in a condition of unique perplexity that I hurriedwith Nayland Smith into the cab which waited and dashed off through thestreets in which the busy life of London just stirred into being. Isuppose I need not say that I could penetrate no farther into this,Fu-Manchu's latest plot, than the drugging of Norris West with hashish?Of his having been so drugged with Indian hemp--that is, convertedtemporarily into a maniac--would have been evident to any medical manwho had heard his statement and noted the distressing after-effectswhich conclusively pointed to Indian hemp poisoning. Knowing somethingof the Chinese doctor's powers, I could understand that he might haveextracted from West the secret of the combination by sheer force ofwill whilst the American was under the influence of the drug. But Icould not understand how Fu-Manchu had gained access to locked chamberson the third story of a building.

  "Smith," I said, "those bird tracks on the window-sill--they furnishthe key to a mystery which is puzzling me."

  "They do," said Smith, glancing impatiently at his watch. "Consultyour memories of Dr. Fu-Manchu's habits--especially your memories ofhis pets."

  I reviewed in my mind the creatures gruesome and terrible whichsurrounded the Chinaman--the scorpions, the bacteria, the noxiousthings which were the weapons wherewith he visited death uponwhomsoever opposed the establishment of a potential Yellow Empire. Butno one of them could account for the imprints upon the dust of West'swindow-sill.

  "You puzzle me, Smith," I confessed. "There is much in thisextraordinary case that puzzles me. I can think of nothing to accountfor the marks."

  "Have you thought of Fu-Manchu's marmoset?" asked Smith.

  "The monkey!" I cried.

  "They were the footprints of a small ape," my friend continued. "For amoment I was deceived as you were, and believed them to be the tracksof a large bird; but I have seen the footprints of apes before now, anda marmoset, though an American variety, I believe, is not unlike someof the apes of Burma."

  "I am still in the dark," I said.

  "It is pure hypothesis," continued Smith, "but here is the theory--inlieu of a better one it covers the facts. The marmoset--and it iscontrary from the character of Fu-Manchu to keep any creature for mereamusement--is trained to perform certain duties.

  "You observed the waterspout running up beside the window; you observedthe iron bar intended to prevent a window-cleaner from falling out?For an ape the climb from the court below to the sill above was asimple one. He carried a cord, probably attached to his body. Heclimbed on to the sill, over the bar, and climbed down again. By meansof this cord a rope was pulled up over the bar, by means of the ropeone of those ladders of silk and bamboo. One of the Doctor's servantsascended--probably to ascertain if the hashish had acted successfully.That was the yellow dream-face which West saw bending over him. Thenfollowed the Doctor, and to his giant will the drugged brain of Westwas a pliant instrument which he bent to his own ends. The court wouldbe deserted at that hour of the night, and, in any event, directlyafter the ascent the ladder probably was pulled up, only to be loweredagain when West had revealed the secret of his own safe and Fu-Manchuhad secured the plans. The reclosing of the safe and the removing ofthe hashish tabloids, leaving no clew beyond the delirious ravings of adrug slave--for so anyone unacquainted with the East must haveconstrued West's story--is particularly characteristic. His owntabloids were returned, of course. The sparing of his life alone is arefinement of art which points to a past master."

  "Karamaneh was the decoy again?" I said shortly.

  "Certainly. Hers was the task to ascertain West's habits and tosubstitute the tabloids. She it was who waited in the luxuriouscar--infinitely less likely to attract attention at that hour in thatplace than a modest taxi--and received the stolen plans. She did herwork well.

  "Poor Karamaneh; she had no alternative! I said I would have given ahundred pounds for a sight of the messenger's face--the man to whom shehanded them. I would give a thousand now!"

  "ANDAMAN--SECOND," I said. "What did she mean?"

  "Then it has not dawned upon you?" cried Smith excitedly, as the cabturned into the station. "The ANDAMAN, of the Oriental NavigationCompany's line, leaves Tilbury with the next tide for China ports. Ourman is a second-class passenger. I am wiring to delay her departure,and the special should get us to the docks inside of forty minutes."

  Very vividly I can reconstruct in my mind that dash to the docksthrough the early autumn morning. My friend being invested withextraordinary powers from the highest authorities, by InspectorWeymouth's instructions the line had been cleared all the way.

  Something of the tremendous importance of Nayland Smith's mission camehome to me as we hurried on to the platform, escorted by thestation-master, and the five of us--for Weymouth had two other C.I.D.men with him--took our seats in the special.

  Off we went on top speed, roaring through stations, where a glimpsemight be had of wondering officials upon the platforms, for a specialtrain was a novelty on the line. All ordinary traffic arrangementswere held up until we had passed through, and we reached Tilbury intime which I doubt not constituted a record.

  There at the docks was the great liner, delayed in her passage to theFar East by the will of my royally empowered companion. It was novel,and infinitely exciting.

  "Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith?" said the captain interrogatively,when we were shown into his room, and looked from one to another andback to the telegraph form which he held in his hand.

  "The same, Captain," said my friend briskly. "I shall not detain you amoment. I am instructing the authorities at all ports east of Suez toapprehend one of your second-class passengers, should he leave theship. He is in possession of plans which practically belong to theBritish Government!"

  "Why not arrest him now?" asked the seaman bluntly.

  "Because I don't know him. All second-class passengers' baggage willbe searched as they land. I am hoping something from that, if all elsefails. But I want you privately to instruct your stewards to watch anypassenger of Oriental nationality, and to cooperate with the twoScotland Yard men who are joining you for the voyage. I look to you torecover these plans, Captain."

  "I will do my best," the captain assured him.

  Then, from amid the heterogeneous group on the dockside, we werewatching the liner depart, and Nayland Smith's expression was a verysingular one. Inspector Weymouth stood with us, a badly puzzled man.Then occurred the extraordinary incident which to this day remainsinexplicable, for, clearly heard by all three of us, a guttural voicesaid:

  "Another victory for China, Mr. Nayland Smith!"

  I turned as though I had been stung. Smith turned also. My eyespassed from face to face of the group about us. None was familiar. Noone apparently had moved away.

  But the voice was the voice of DOCTOR FU-MANCHU.

  As I write of it, now, I can appreciate the difference between thathappening, as it appealed to us, and as it must appeal to you whomerely read of it. It is beyond my powers to convey the sense of theuncanny which the episode created. Yet, even as I think of it, I feelagain, though in lesser degree, the chill which seemed to creep throughmy veins that day.

  From my brief history of the wonderful and evil man who once walked, bythe way unsuspected, in the midst of the people of England--near whomyou, personally, may at some time unwittingly, have been--I am awarethat much must be omitted. I have no space for lengthy examinations ofthe many points but ill illuminated with which it is dotted. Thisincident at the docks is but one such point.

  Another is the singular vision which appeared to me whilst I lay in thecellar of the house near Windsor. It has since struck me that itpossessed peculiarities akin to those of a hashish hallucination. Canit be that we were drugged on that occasion with Indian hemp? Cannabisindica is a treacherous narcotic, as every medical man knows full well;but Fu-Manchu's knowledge of the drug was far in advance of our slowscience. West's experience proved so much.

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nbsp; I may have neglected opportunities--later, you shall judge if I didso--opportunities to glean for the West some of the strange knowledgeof the secret East. Perhaps, at a future time, I may rectify myerrors. Perhaps that wisdom--the wisdom stored up by Fu-Manchu--islost forever. There is, however, at least a bare possibility of itssurvival, in part; and I do not wholly despair of one day publishing ascientific sequel to this record of our dealings with the Chinesedoctor.