In the absence of such a veto a veritable panic must have seized upon the entire country; for a monster—a thing more than humanly evil—existed in our midst.
Always Fu-Manchu's secret activities had centered about the great waterway. There was much of poetic2 justice in his end; for the Thames had claimed him, who so long had used the stream as a highway for the passage to and fro for his secret forces. Gone now were the yellow men who had been the instruments of his evil will; gone was the giant intellect which had controlled the complex murder machine. Karamaneh, whose beauty he had used as a lure3, at last was free, and no more with her smile would tempt4 men to death—that her brother might live.
Many there are, I doubt not, who will regard the Eastern girl with horror. I ask their forgiveness in that I regarded her quite differently. No man having seen her could have condemned5 her unheard. Many, having looked into her lovely eyes, had they found there what I found, must have forgiven her almost any crime.
That she valued human life but little was no matter for wonder. Her nationality—her history—furnished adequate excuse for an attitude not condonable in a European equally cultured.
But indeed let me confess that hers was a nature incomprehensible to me in some respects. The soul of Karamaneh was a closed book to my short-sighted Western eyes. But the body of Karamaneh was exquisite6; her beauty of a kind that was a key to the most extravagant7 rhapsodies of Eastern poets. Her eyes held a challenge wholly Oriental in its appeal; her lips, even in repose8, were a taunt9. And, herein, East is West and West is East.
Finally, despite her lurid10 history, despite the scornful self-possession of which I knew her capable, she was an unprotected girl—in years, I believe, a mere11 child—whom Fate had cast in my way. At her request, we had booked passages for her brother and herself to Egypt. The boat sailed in three days. But Karamaneh's beautiful eyes were sad; often I detected tears on the black lashes12. Shall I endeavor to describe my own tumultuous, conflicting emotions? It would be useless, since I know it to be impossible. For in those dark eyes burned a fire I might not see; those silken lashes veiled a message I dared not read.
Nayland Smith was not blind to the facts of the complicated situation. I can truthfully assert that he was the only man of my acquaintance who, having come in contact with Karamaneh, had kept his head.
We endeavored to divert her mind from the recent tragedies by a round of amusements, though with poor Weymouth's body still at the mercy of unknown waters Smith and I made but a poor show of gayety; and I took a gloomy pride in the admiration13 which our lovely companion everywhere excited. I learned, in those days, how rare a thing in nature is a really beautiful woman.
One afternoon we found ourselves at an exhibition of water colors in Bond Street. Karamaneh was intensely interested in the subjects of the drawings—which were entirely14 Egyptian. As usual, she furnished matter for comment amongst the other visitors, as did the boy, Aziz, her brother, anew upon the world from his living grave in the house of Dr. Fu-Manchu.
Suddenly Aziz clutched at his sister's arm, whispering rapidly in Arabic. I saw her peachlike color fade; saw her become pale and wild-eyed—the haunted Karamaneh of the old days.
She turned to me.
"Dr. Petrie—he says that Fu-Manchu is here!"
"Where?"
Nayland Smith rapped out the question violently, turning in a flash from the picture which he was examining.
"In this room!" she whispered glancing furtively15, affrightedly about her. "Something tells Aziz when HE is near—and I, too, feel strangely afraid. Oh, can it be that he is not dead!"
She held my arm tightly. Her brother was searching the room with big, velvet16 black eyes. I studied the faces of the several visitors; and Smith was staring about him with the old alert look, and tugging17 nervously18 at the lobe19 of his ear. The name of the giant foe20 of the white race instantaneously had strung him up to a pitch of supreme21 intensity22.
Our united scrutinies23 discovered no figure which could have been that of the Chinese doctor. Who could mistake that long, gaunt shape, with the high, mummy-like shoulders, and the indescribable gait, which I can only liken to that of an awkward cat?
Then, over the heads of a group of people who stood by the doorway24, I saw Smith peering at someone—at someone who passed across the outer room. Stepping aside, I, too, obtained a glimpse of this person.
As I saw him, he was a tall, old man, wearing a black Inverness coat and a rather shabby silk hat. He had long white hair and a patriarchal beard, wore smoked glasses and walked slowly, leaning upon a stick.
Smith's gaunt face paled. With a rapid glance at Karamaneh, he made off across the room.
Could it be Dr. Fu-Manchu?
Many days had passed since, already half-choked by Inspector25 Weymouth's iron grip, Fu-Manchu, before our own eyes, had been swallowed up by the Thames. Even now men were seeking his body, and that of his last victim. Nor had we left any stone unturned. Acting26 upon information furnished by Karamaneh, the police had searched every known haunt of the murder group. But everything pointed27 to the fact that the group was disbanded and dispersed28; that the lord of strange deaths who had ruled it was no more.
Yet Smith was not satisfied. Neither, let me confess, was I. Every port was watched; and in suspected districts a kind of house-to-house patrol had been instituted. Unknown to the great public, in those days a secret war waged—a war in which all the available forces of the authorities took the field against one man! But that one man was the evil of the East incarnate29.
When we rejoined him, Nayland Smith was talking to the commissionaire at the door. He turned to me.
The name of the celebrated31 Orientalist of course was familiar to me, although I had never before set eyes upon him.
"The Professor was out East the last time I was there, sir," stated the commissionaire. "I often used to see him. But he's an eccentric old gentleman. Seems to live in a world of his own. He's recently back from China, I think."
Nayland Smith stood clicking his teeth together in irritable32 hesitation33. I heard Karamaneh sigh, and, looking at her, I saw that her cheeks were regaining34 their natural color.
She smiled in pathetic apology.
"If he was here he is gone," she said. "I am not afraid now."
Smith thanked the commissionaire for his information and we quitted the gallery.
"Professor Jenner Monde," muttered my friend, "has lived so long in China as almost to be a Chinaman. I have never met him—never seen him, before; but I wonder—"
"You wonder what, Smith?"
"I wonder if he could possibly be an ally, of the Doctor's!"
"If we are to attach any importance to the incident at all," I said, "we must remember that the boy's impression—and Karamaneh's—was that Fu-Manchu was present in person."
"I DO attach importance to the incident, Petrie; they are naturally sensitive to such impressions. But I doubt if even the abnormal organization of Aziz could distinguish between the hidden presence of a creature of the Doctor's and that of the Doctor himself. I shall make a point of calling upon Professor Jenner Monde."
But Fate had ordained36 that much should happen ere Smith made his proposed call upon the Professor.
Karamaneh and her brother safely lodged37 in their hotel (which was watched night and day by four men under Smith's orders), we returned to my quiet suburban38 rooms.
"First," said Smith, "let us see what we can find out respecting Professor Monde."
He went to the telephone and called up New Scotland Yard. There followed some little delay before the requisite39 information was obtained. Finally, however, we learned that the Professor was something of a recluse40, having few acquaintances, and fewer friends.
He lived alone in chambers41 in New Inn Court, Carey Street. A charwoman did such cleaning as was considered necessary by the Professor, who employed no regular domestic. When he was in London he might be seen fairly frequently at the British Museum, where his shabby figure was familiar to the officials. When he was not in London—that is, during the greater part of each year—no one knew where he went. He never left any address to which letters might be forwarded.
"How long has he been in London now?" asked Smith.
So far as could be ascertained42 from New Inn Court (replied Scotland Yard) roughly a week.
My friend left the telephone and began restlessly to pace the room. The charred43 briar was produced and stuffed with that broad cut Latakia mixture of which Nayland Smith consumed close upon a pound a week. He was one of those untidy smokers44 who leave tangled45 tufts hanging from the pipe-bowl and when they light up strew46 the floor with smoldering47 fragments.
A ringing came, and shortly afterwards a girl entered.
"Mr. James Weymouth to see you, sir."
"Hullo!" rapped Smith. "What's this?"
Weymouth entered, big and florid, and in some respects singularly like his brother, in others as singularly unlike. Now, in his black suit, he was a somber48 figure; and in the blue eyes I read a fear suppressed.
Smith wheeled the big arm-chair forward.
"Sit down, Mr. Weymouth," he said. "I am not entirely surprised. But you have my attention. What has occurred?"
Weymouth took a cigarette from the box which I proffered50 and poured out a peg51 of whisky. His hand was not quite steady.
"That knocking," he explained. "It came again the night after you were there, and Mrs. Weymouth—my wife, I mean—felt that she couldn't spend another night there, alone."
"Did she look out of the window?" I asked.
"No, Doctor; she was afraid. But I spent last night downstairs in the sitting-room—and I looked out!"
He took a gulp52 from his glass. Nayland Smith, seated on the edge of the table, his extinguished pipe in his hand, was watching him keenly.
"I'll admit I didn't look out at once," Weymouth resumed. "There was something so uncanny, gentlemen, in that knocking—knocking—in the dead of the night. I thought"—his voice shook—"of poor Jack53, lying somewhere amongst the slime of the river—and, oh, my God! it came to me that it was Jack who was knocking—and I dare not think what he—what it—would look like!"
He leaned forward, his chin in his hand. For a few moments we were all silent.
"I know I funked," he continued huskily. "But when the wife came to the head of the stairs and whispered to me: 'There it is again. What in heaven's name can it be'—I started to unbolt the door. The knocking had stopped. Everything was very still. I heard Mary—HIS widow—sobbing, upstairs; that was all. I opened the door, a little bit at a time."
Pausing again, he cleared his throat, and went on:
"It was a bright night, and there was no one there—not a soul. But somewhere down the lane, as I looked out into the porch, I heard most awful groans54! They got fainter and fainter. Then—I could have sworn I heard SOMEONE LAUGHING! My nerves cracked up at that; and I shut the door again."
The narration55 of his weird56 experience revived something of the natural fear which it had occasioned. He raised his glass, with unsteady hand, and drained it.
Smith struck a match and relighted his pipe. He began to pace the room again. His eyes were literally57 on fire.
"Would it be possible to get Mrs. Weymouth out of the house before to-night? Remove her to your place, for instance?" he asked abruptly58.
Weymouth looked up in surprise.
"She seems to be in a very low state," he replied. He glanced at me. "Perhaps Dr. Petrie would give us an opinion?"
"I will come and see her," I said. "But what is your idea, Smith?"
"I want to hear that knocking!" he rapped. "But in what I may see fit to do I must not be handicapped by the presence of a sick woman."
"Her condition at any rate will admit of our administering an opiate," I suggested. "That would meet the situation?"
"Good!" cried Smith. He was intensely excited now. "I rely upon you to arrange something, Petrie. Mr. Weymouth"—he turned to our visitor—"I shall be with you this evening not later than twelve o'clock."
Weymouth appeared to be greatly relieved. I asked him to wait whilst I prepared a draught59 for the patient. When he was gone:
"What do you think this knocking means, Smith?" I asked.
He tapped out his pipe on the side of the grate and began with nervous energy to refill it again from the dilapidated pouch60.
"I dare not tell you what I hope, Petrie," he replied—"nor what I fear."
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1
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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3
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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5
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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6
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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7
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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8
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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10
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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11
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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12
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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13
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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14
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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15
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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16
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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17
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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18
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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lobe
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| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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scrutinies
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| 细看，细查，监视( scrutiny的名词复数 ) | |
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24
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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27
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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28
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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30
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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32
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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33
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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34
regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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35
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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36
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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37
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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39
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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40
recluse
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| n.隐居者 | |
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41
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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42
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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44
smokers
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| 吸烟者( smoker的名词复数 ) | |
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45
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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46
strew
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| vt.撒；使散落；撒在…上，散布于 | |
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47
smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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48
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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49
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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50
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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52
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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53
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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54
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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55
narration
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| n.讲述，叙述；故事；记叙体 | |
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56
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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57
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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58
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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59
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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60
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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