“When did you last hear from Nayland Smith?” asked my visitor.
I paused, my hand on the syphon, reflecting for a moment.
“Two months ago,” I said; “he’s a poor correspondent and rather soured, I fancy.”
“What—a woman or something?”
I placed a whisky and soda2 before the Rev3. J. D. Eltham, also sliding the tobacco jar nearer to his hand. The refined and sensitive face of the clergy-man offered no indication of the truculent4 character of the man. His scanty5 fair hair, already gray over the temples, was silken and soft-looking; in appearance he was indeed a typical English churchman; but in China he had been known as “the fighting missionary,” and had fully6 deserved the title. In fact, this peaceful-looking gentleman had directly brought about the Boxer7 Risings!
“You know,” he said, in his clerical voice, but meanwhile stuffing tobacco into an old pipe with fierce energy, “I have often wondered, Petrie—I have never left off wondering—”
“What?”
“That accursed Chinaman! Since the cellar place beneath the site of the burnt-out cottage in Dulwich Village—I have wondered more than ever.”
“You see,” he continued, peering across at me in his oddly nervous way, “one never knows, does one? If I thought that Dr. Fu-Manchu lived; if I seriously suspected that that stupendous intellect, that wonderful genius, Petrie, er—” he hesitated characteristically—“survived, I should feel it my duty—”
“Well?” I said, leaning my elbows on the table and smiling slightly.
“If that Satanic genius were not indeed destroyed, then the peace of the world, may be threatened anew at any moment!”
He was becoming excited, shooting out his jaw9 in the truculent manner I knew, and snapping his fingers to emphasize his words; a man composed of the oddest complexities10 that ever dwelt beneath a clerical frock.
“He may have got back to China, Doctor!” he cried, and his eyes had the fighting glint in them. “Could you rest in peace if you thought that he lived? Should you not fear for your life every time that a night-call took you out alone? Why, man alive, it is only two years since he was here among us, since we were searching every shadow for those awful green eyes! What became of his band of assassins—his stranglers, his dacoits, his damnable poisons and insects and what-not—the army of creatures—”
He paused, taking a drink.
“You—” he hesitated diffidently—“searched in Egypt with Nayland Smith, did you not?”
I nodded.
“Contradict me if I am wrong,” he continued; “but my impression is that you were searching for the girl—the girl—Karamaneh, I think she was called?”
“Yes,” I replied shortly; “but we could find no trace—no trace.”
“You—er—were interested?”
“More than I knew,” I replied, “until I realized that I had—lost her.”
“I never met Karamaneh, but from your account, and from others, she was quite unusually—”
“She was very beautiful,” I said, and stood up, for I was anxious to terminate that phase of the conversation.
Eltham regarded me sympathetically; he knew something of my search with Nayland Smith for the dark-eyed, Eastern girl who had brought romance into my drab life; he knew that I treasured my memories of her as I loathed11 and abhorred12 those of the fiendish, brilliant Chinese doctor who had been her master.
Eltham began to pace up and down the rug, his pipe bubbling furiously; and something in the way he carried his head reminded me momentarily of Nayland Smith. Certainly, between this pink-faced clergyman, with his deceptively mild appearance, and the gaunt, bronzed, and steely-eyed Burmese commissioner13, there was externally little in common; but it was some little nervous trick in his carriage that conjured14 up through the smoky haze15 one distant summer evening when Smith had paced that very room as Eltham paced it now, when before my startled eyes he had rung up the curtain upon the savage16 drama in which, though I little suspected it then, Fate had cast me for a leading role.
I wondered if Eltham’s thoughts ran parallel with mine. My own were centered upon the unforgettable figure of the murderous Chinaman. These words, exactly as Smith had used them, seemed once again to sound in my ears: “Imagine a person tall, lean, and feline17, high shouldered, with a brow like Shakespeare and a face like Satan, a close-shaven skull18, and long magnetic eyes of the true cat green. Invest him with all the cruel cunning of an entire Eastern race accumulated in one giant intellect, with all the resources of science, past and present, and you have a mental picture of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the ‘Yellow Peril’ incarnate19 in one man.”
This visit of Eltham’s no doubt was responsible for my mood; for this singular clergyman had played his part in the drama of two years ago.
“I should like to see Smith again,” he said suddenly; “it seems a pity that a man like that should be buried in Burma. Burma makes a mess of the best of men, Doctor. You said he was not married?”
“No,” I replied shortly, “and is never likely to be, now.”
“Ah, you hinted at something of the kind.”
“I know very little of it. Nayland Smith is not the kind of man to talk much.”
“Quite so—quite so! And, you know, Doctor, neither am I; but”—he was growing painfully embarrassed—“it may be your due—I—er—I have a correspondent, in the interior of China—”
“Well?” I said, watching him in sudden eagerness.
“Well, I would not desire to raise—vain hopes—nor to occasion, shall I say, empty fears; but—er... no, Doctor!” He flushed like a girl—“It was wrong of me to open this conversation. Perhaps, when I know more—will you forget my words, for the time?”
The telephone bell rang.
“Hullo!” cried Eltham—“hard luck, Doctor!”—but I could see that he welcomed the interruption. “Why!” he added, “it is one o’clock!”
I went to the telephone.
“Is that Dr. Petrie?” inquired a woman’s voice.
“Yes; who is speaking?”
“Mrs. Hewett has been taken more seriously ill. Could you come at once?”
“Certainly,” I replied, for Mrs. Hewett was not only a profitable patient but an estimable lady—“I shall be with you in a quarter of an hour.”
I hung up the receiver.
“Something urgent?” asked Eltham, emptying his pipe.
“Sounds like it. You had better turn in.”
“I should much prefer to walk over with you, if it would not be intruding20. Our conversation has ill prepared me for sleep.”
“Right!” I said; for I welcomed his company; and three minutes later we were striding across the deserted21 common.
A sort of mist floated amongst the trees, seeming in the moonlight like a veil draped from trunk to trunk, as in silence we passed the Mound22 pond, and struck out for the north side of the common.
I suppose the presence of Eltham and the irritating recollection of his half-confidence were the responsible factors, but my mind persistently23 dwelt upon the subject of Fu-Manchu and the atrocities24 which he had committed during his sojourn25 in England. So actively26 was my imagination at work that I felt again the menace which so long had hung over me; I felt as though that murderous yellow cloud still cast its shadow upon England. And I found myself longing27 for the company of Nayland Smith. I cannot state what was the nature of Eltham’s reflections, but I can guess; for he was as silent as I.
It was with a conscious effort that I shook myself out of this morbidly28 reflective mood, on finding that we had crossed the common and were come to the abode29 of my patient.
“I shall take a little walk,” announced Eltham; “for I gather that you don’t expect to be detained long? I shall never be out of sight of the door, of course.”
“Very well,” I replied, and ran up the steps.
There were no lights to be seen in any of the windows, which circumstance rather surprised me, as my patient occupied, or had occupied when last I had visited her, a first-floor bedroom in the front of the house. My knocking and ringing produced no response for three or four minutes; then, as I persisted, a scantily30 clothed and half awake maid servant unbarred the door and stared at me stupidly in the moonlight.
The girl stared more stupidly than ever.
“No, sir,” she said, “she don’t, sir; she’s fast asleep!”
“Not from here, sir,” declared the now wide-eyed girl. “We haven’t got a telephone, sir.”
For a few moments I stood there, staring as foolishly as she; then abruptly I turned and descended33 the steps. At the gate I stood looking up and down the road. The houses were all in darkness. What could be the meaning of the mysterious summons? I had made no mistake respecting the name of my patient; it had been twice repeated over the telephone; yet that the call had not emanated34 from Mrs. Hewett’s house was now palpably evident. Days had been when I should have regarded the episode as preluding some outrage35, but to-night I felt more disposed to ascribe it to a silly practical joke.
Eltham walked up briskly.
“You’re in demand to-night, Doctor,” he said. “A young person called for you almost directly you had left your house, and, learning where you were gone, followed you.”
“Indeed!” I said, a trifle incredulously. “There are plenty of other doctors if the case is an urgent one.”
“She may have thought it would save time as you were actually up and dressed,” explained Eltham; “and the house is quite near to here, I understand.”
I looked at him a little blankly. Was this another effort of the unknown jester?
“I have been fooled once,” I said. “That ‘phone call was a hoax—”
“But I feel certain,” declared Eltham, earnestly, “that this is genuine! The poor girl was dreadfully agitated36; her master has broken his leg and is lying helpless: number 280, Rectory Grove37.”
“Where is the girl?” I asked, sharply.
“She ran back directly she had given me her message.”
“Was she a servant?”
“I should imagine so: French, I think. But she was so wrapped up I had little more than a glimpse of her. I am sorry to hear that some one has played a silly joke on you, but believe me—” he was very earnest—“this is no jest. The poor girl could scarcely speak for sobs38. She mistook me for you, of course.”
“Oh!” said I grimly, “well, I suppose I must go. Broken leg, you said?—and my surgical39 bag, splints and so forth40, are at home!”
“My dear Petrie!” cried Eltham, in his enthusiastic way—“you no doubt can do something to alleviate41 the poor man’s suffering immediately. I will run back to your rooms for the bag and rejoin you at 280, Rectory Grove.”
He held up his hand.
“The call of suffering humanity, Petrie, is one which I may no more refuse to hear than you.”
I made no further protest after that, for his point of view was evident and his determination adamant43, but told him where he would find the bag and once more set out across the moonbright common, he pursuing a westerly direction and I going east.
Some three hundred yards I had gone, I suppose, and my brain had been very active the while, when something occurred to me which placed a new complexion44 upon this second summons. I thought of the falsity of the first, of the improbability of even the most hardened practical joker practising his wiles45 at one o’clock in the morning. I thought of our recent conversation; above all I thought of the girl who had delivered the message to Eltham, the girl whom he had described as a French maid—whose personal charm had so completely enlisted46 his sympathies. Now, to this train of thought came a new one, and, adding it, my suspicion became almost a certainty.
I remembered (as, knowing the district, I should have remembered before) that there was no number 280 in Rectory Grove.
Pulling up sharply I stood looking about me. Not a living soul was in sight; not even a policeman. Where the lamps marked the main paths across the common nothing moved; in the shadows about me nothing stirred. But something stirred within me—a warning voice which for long had lain dormant47.
What was afoot?
A breeze caressed48 the leaves overhead, breaking the silence with mysterious whisperings. Some portentous49 truth was seeking for admittance to my brain. I strove to reassure50 myself, but the sense of impending51 evil and of mystery became heavier. At last I could combat my strange fears no longer. I turned and began to run toward the south side of the common—toward my rooms—and after Eltham.
I had hoped to head him off, but came upon no sign of him. An all-night tramcar passed at the moment that I reached the high road, and as I ran around behind it I saw that my windows were lighted and that there was a light in the hall.
My key was yet in the lock when my housekeeper52 opened the door.
“There’s a gentleman just come, Doctor,” she began—
I thrust past her and raced up the stairs into my study.
Standing53 by the writing-table was a tall, thin man, his gaunt face brown as a coffee-berry and his steely gray eyes fixed54 upon me. My heart gave a great leap—and seemed to stand still.
It was Nayland Smith!
“Smith,” I cried. “Smith, old man, by God, I’m glad to see you!”
He wrung55 my hand hard, looking at me with his searching eyes; but there was little enough of gladness in his face. He was altogether grayer than when last I had seen him—grayer and sterner.
“Where is Eltham?” I asked.
Smith started back as though I had struck him.
“Eltham!” he whispered—“Eltham! is Eltham here?”
“I left him ten minutes ago on the common—”
Smith dashed his right fist into the palm of his left hand and his eyes gleamed almost wildly.
“My God, Petrie!” he said, “am I fated always to come too late?”
“Smith, you don’t mean—”
“I do, Petrie!” His voice sounded very far away. “Fu-Manchu is here; and Eltham, God help him... is his first victim!”
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1
reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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boxer
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| n.制箱者，拳击手 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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complexities
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| 复杂性(complexity的名词复数)； 复杂的事物 | |
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11
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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12
abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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13
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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14
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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15
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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feline
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| adj.猫科的 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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intruding
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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atrocities
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| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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morbidly
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| adv.病态地 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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scantily
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| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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32
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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33
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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34
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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35
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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38
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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alleviate
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| v.减轻，缓和，缓解(痛苦等) | |
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42
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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adamant
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| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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45
wiles
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| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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46
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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47
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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48
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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50
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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51
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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52
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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53
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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54
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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55
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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56
totter
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| v.蹒跚， 摇摇欲坠；n.蹒跚的步子 | |
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