“There are two points—yes,” replied the Scotland Yard man, whilst Smith paused, egg-spoon in hand, and fixed3 his keen eyes upon the speaker. “The first is this: the headquarters of the Yellow group is no longer in the East End.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“For two reasons. In the first place, that district must now be too hot to hold Dr. Fu-Manchu; in the second place, we have just completed a house-to-house inquiry4 which has scarcely overlooked a rathole or a rat. That place where you say Fu-Manchu was visited by some Chinese mandarin5; where you, Mr. Smith,” and—glancing in my direction—“you, Doctor, were confined for a time—”
“Yes?” snapped Smith, attacking his egg.
“Well,” continued the inspector, “it is all deserted6, now. There is not the slightest doubt that the Chinaman has fled to some other abode7. I am certain of it. My second piece of news will interest you very much, I am sure. You were taken to the establishment of the Chinaman, Shen-Yan, by a certain ex-officer of New York Police—Burke...”
“Good God!” cried Smith, looking up with a start; “I thought they had him!”
“So did I,” replied Weymouth grimly; “but they haven’t! He got away in the confusion following the raid, and has been hiding ever since with a cousin, a nurseryman out Upminster way...”
“Hiding?” snapped Smith.
“Exactly—hiding. He has been afraid to stir ever since, and has scarcely shown his nose outside the door. He says he is watched night and day.”
“Then how...”
“He realized that something must be done,” continued the inspector, “and made a break this morning. He is so convinced of this constant surveillance that he came away secretly, hidden under the boxes of a market-wagon8. He landed at Covent Garden in the early hours of this morning and came straight away to the Yard.”
“What is he afraid of exactly?”
“He knows something,” he said in a low voice, “and they are aware that he knows it!”
“And what is this he knows?”
Nayland Smith stared eagerly at the detective.
“Every man has his price,” replied Weymouth with a smile, “and Burke seems to think that you are a more likely market than the police authorities.”
“I see,” snapped Smith. “He wants to see me?”
“He wants you to go and see him,” was the reply. “I think he anticipates that you may make a capture of the person or persons spying upon him.”
“Did he give you any particulars?”
“Several. He spoke10 of a sort of gipsy girl with whom he had a short conversation one day, over the fence which divides his cousin’s flower plantations11 from the lane adjoining.”
“Gipsy girl!” I whispered, glancing rapidly at Smith.
“I think you are right, Doctor,” said Weymouth with his slow smile; “it was Karamaneh. She asked him the way to somewhere or other and got him to write it upon a loose page of his notebook, so that she should not forget it.”
“You hear that, Petrie?” rapped Smith.
“I hear it,” I replied, “but I don’t see any special significance in the fact.”
“I do!” rapped Smith; “I didn’t sit up the greater part of last night thrashing my weary brains for nothing! But I am going to the British Museum to-day, to confirm a certain suspicion.” He turned to Weymouth. “Did Burke go back?” he demanded abruptly12.
“He returned hidden under the empty boxes,” was the reply. “Oh! you never saw a man in such a funk in all your life!”
“He may have good reasons,” I said.
“He has good reasons!” replied Nayland Smith grimly; “if that man really possesses information inimical to the safety of Fu-Manchu, he can only escape doom13 by means of a miracle similar to that which has hitherto protected you and me.”
“Burke insists,” said Weymouth at this point, “that something comes almost every night after dusk, slinking about the house—it’s an old farmhouse14, I understand; and on two or three occasions he has been awakened15 (fortunately for him he is a light sleeper) by sounds of coughing immediately outside his window. He is a man who sleeps with a pistol under his pillow, and more than once, on running to the window, he has had a vague glimpse of some creature leaping down from the tiles of the roof, which slopes up to his room, into the flower beds below...”
“I used the word deliberately,” replied Weymouth, “because Burke seems to have the idea that it goes on all fours.”
There was a short and rather strained silence. Then:
“In descending17 a sloping roof,” I suggested, “a human being would probably employ his hands as well as his feet.”
“Quite so,” agreed the inspector. “I am merely reporting the impression of Burke.”
“Has he heard no other sound?” rapped Smith; “one like the cracking of dry branches, for instance?”
“He made no mention of it,” replied Weymouth, staring.
“And what is the plan?”
“One of his cousin’s vans,” said Weymouth, with his slight smile, “has remained behind at Covent Garden and will return late this afternoon. I propose that you and I, Mr. Smith, imitate Burke and ride down to Upminster under the empty boxes!”
Nayland Smith stood up, leaving his breakfast half finished, and began to wander up and down the room, reflectively tugging18 at his ear. Then he began to fumble19 in the pockets of his dressing-gown and finally produced the inevitable20 pipe, dilapidated pouch21, and box of safety matches. He began to load the much-charred agent of reflection.
“Do I understand that Burke is actually too afraid to go out openly even in daylight?” he asked suddenly.
“He has not hitherto left his cousin’s plantations at all,” replied Weymouth. “He seems to think that openly to communicate with the authorities, or with you, would be to seal his death warrant.”
“He’s right,” snapped Smith.
“Therefore he came and returned secretly,” continued the inspector; “and if we are to do any good, obviously we must adopt similar precautions. The market wagon, loaded in such a way as to leave ample space in the interior for us, will be drawn22 up outside the office of Messrs. Pike and Pike, in Covent Garden, until about five o’clock this afternoon. At, say, half past four, I propose that we meet there and embark23 upon the journey.”
The speaker glanced in my direction interrogatively.
“Include me in the program,” I said. “Will there be room in the wagon?”
“Certainly,” was the reply; “it is most commodious24, but I cannot guarantee its comfort.”
Nayland Smith promenaded25 the room, unceasingly, and presently he walked out altogether, only to return ere the inspector and I had had time to exchange more than a glance of surprise, carrying a brass26 ash-tray. He placed this on a corner of the breakfast table before Weymouth.
“Ever seen anything like that?” he inquired.
The inspector examined the gruesome relic27 with obvious curiosity, turning it over with the tip of his little finger and manifesting considerable repugnance—in touching28 it at all. Smith and I watched him in silence, and, finally, placing the tray again upon the table, he looked up in a puzzled way.
“It’s something like the skin of a water rat,” he said.
“A water rat? Now that you come to mention it, I perceive a certain resemblance—yes. But”—he had been wearing a silk scarf about his throat and now he unwrapped it—“did you ever see a water rat that could make marks like these?”
Weymouth started to his feet with some muttered exclamation30.
“What is this?” he cried. “When did it happen, and how?”
In his own terse31 fashion, Nayland Smith related the happenings of the night. At the conclusion of the story:
“By heaven!” whispered Weymouth, “the thing on the roof—the coughing thing that goes on all fours, seen by Burke...”
“My own idea exactly!” cried Smith...
“Fu-Manchu,” I said excitedly, “has brought some new, some dreadful creature, from Burma...”
“No, Petrie,” snapped Smith, turning upon me suddenly. “Not from Burma—from Abyssinia.”
That day was destined32 to be an eventful one; a day never to be forgotten by any of us concerned in those happenings which I have to record. Early in the morning Nayland Smith set off for the British Museum to pursue his mysterious investigations33, and having performed my brief professional round (for, as Nayland Smith had remarked on one occasion, this was a beastly healthy district), I found, having made the necessary arrangements, that, with over three hours to spare, I had nothing to occupy my time until the appointment in Covent Garden Market. My lonely lunch completed, a restless fit seized me, and I felt unable to remain longer in the house. Inspired by this restlessness, I attired34 myself for the adventure of the evening, not neglecting to place a pistol in my pocket, and, walking to the neighboring Tube station, I booked to Charing35 Cross, and presently found myself rambling36 aimlessly along the crowded streets. Led on by what link of memory I know not, I presently drifted into New Oxford37 Street, and looked up with a start—to learn that I stood before the shop of a second-hand38 book-seller where once two years before I had met Karamaneh.
The thoughts conjured39 up at that moment were almost too bitter to be borne, and without so much as glancing at the books displayed for sale, I crossed the roadway, entered Museum Street, and, rather in order to distract my mind than because I contemplated40 any purchase, began to examine the Oriental Pottery41, Egyptian statuettes, Indian armor, and other curios, displayed in the window of an antique dealer42.
But, strive as I would to concentrate my mind upon the objects in the window, my memories persistently43 haunted me, and haunted me to the exclusion44 even of the actualities. The crowds thronging45 the Pavement, the traffic in New Oxford Street, swept past unheeded; my eyes saw nothing of pot nor statuette, but only met, in a misty46 imaginative world, the glance of two other eyes—the dark and beautiful eyes of Karamaneh. In the exquisite47 tinting48 of a Chinese vase dimly perceptible in the background of the shop, I perceived only the blushing cheeks of Karamaneh; her face rose up, a taunting49 phantom50, from out of the darkness between a hideous51, gilded52 idol53 and an Indian sandalwood screen.
I strove to dispel54 this obsessing55 thought, resolutely56 fixing my attention upon a tall Etruscan vase in the corner of the window, near to the shop door. Was I losing my senses indeed? A doubt of my own sanity57 momentarily possessed58 me. For, struggle as I would to dispel the illusion—there, looking out at me over that ancient piece of pottery, was the bewitching face of the slave-girl!
Probably I was glaring madly, and possibly I attracted the notice of the passers-by; but of this I cannot be certain, for all my attention was centered upon that phantasmal face, with the cloudy hair, slightly parted red lips, and the brilliant dark eyes which looked into mine out of the shadows of the shop.
It was bewildering—it was uncanny; for, delusion59 or verity60, the glamour61 prevailed. I exerted a great mental effort, stepped to the door, turned the handle, and entered the shop with as great a show of composure as I could muster62.
A curtain draped in a little door at the back of one counter swayed slightly, with no greater violence than may have been occasioned by the draught63. But I fixed my eyes upon this swaying curtain almost fiercely... as an impassive half-caste of some kind who appeared to be a strange cross between a Graeco-Hebrew and a Japanese, entered and quite unemotionally faced me, with a slight bow.
So wholly unexpected was this apparition64 that I started back.
“Can I show you anything, sir?” inquired the new arrival, with a second slight inclination65 of the head.
I looked at him for a moment in silence. Then:
“I thought I saw a lady of my acquaintance here a moment ago,” I said. “Was I mistaken?”
“Quite mistaken, sir,” replied the shopman, raising his black eyebrows66 ever so slightly; “a mistake possibly due to a reflection in the window. Will you take a look around now that you are here?”
“Thank you,” I replied, staring him hard in the face; “at some other time.”
I turned and quitted the shop abruptly. Either I was mad, or Karamaneh was concealed67 somewhere therein.
However, realizing my helplessness in the matter, I contented68 myself with making a mental note of the name which appeared above the establishment—J. Salaman—and walked on, my mind in a chaotic69 condition and my heart beating with unusual rapidity.
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1
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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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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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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Mandarin
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| n.中国官话，国语，满清官吏；adj.华丽辞藻的 | |
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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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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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16
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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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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fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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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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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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commodious
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| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
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promenaded
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| v.兜风( promenade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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terse
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| adj.(说话，文笔)精炼的，简明的 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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34
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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36
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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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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40
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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41
pottery
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| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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44
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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45
thronging
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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47
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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48
tinting
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| 着色，染色（的阶段或过程） | |
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49
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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50
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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51
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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52
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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53
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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54
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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55
obsessing
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| v.时刻困扰( obsess的现在分词 )；缠住；使痴迷；使迷恋 | |
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56
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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57
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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59
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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60
verity
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| n.真实性 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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62
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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63
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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64
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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65
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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66
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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67
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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68
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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