The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu

  CHAPTER IV

  "THE body of a lascar, dressed in the manner usual on the P. & O.boats, was recovered from the Thames off Tilbury by the river police atsix A.M. this morning. It is supposed that the man met with anaccident in leaving his ship."

  Nayland Smith passed me the evening paper and pointed to the aboveparagraph.

  "For 'lascar' read 'dacoit,'" he said. "Our visitor, who came by wayof the ivy, fortunately for us, failed to follow his instructions.Also, he lost the centipede and left a clew behind him. Dr. Fu-Manchudoes not overlook such lapses."

  It was a sidelight upon the character of the awful being with whom wehad to deal. My very soul recoiled from bare consideration of the fatethat would be ours if ever we fell into his hands.

  The telephone bell rang. I went out and found that Inspector Weymouthof New Scotland Yard had called us up.

  "Will Mr. Nayland Smith please come to the Wapping River Police Stationat once," was the message.

  Peaceful interludes were few enough throughout that wild pursuit.

  "It is certainly something important," said my friend; "and, ifFu-Manchu is at the bottom of it--as we must presume him tobe--probably something ghastly."

  A brief survey of the time-tables showed us that there were no trainsto serve our haste. We accordingly chartered a cab and proceeded east.

  Smith, throughout the journey, talked entertainingly about his work inBurma. Of intent, I think, he avoided any reference to thecircumstances which first had brought him in contact with the sinistergenius of the Yellow Movement. His talk was rather of the sunshine ofthe East than of its shadows.

  But the drive concluded--and all too soon. In a silence which neitherof us seemed disposed to break, we entered the police depot, andfollowed an officer who received us into the room where Weymouth waited.

  The inspector greeted us briefly, nodding toward the table.

  "Poor Cadby, the most promising lad at the Yard," he said; and hisusually gruff voice had softened strangely.

  Smith struck his right fist into the palm of his left hand and sworeunder his breath, striding up and down the neat little room. No onespoke for a moment, and in the silence I could hear the whispering ofthe Thames outside--of the Thames which had so many strange secrets totell, and now was burdened with another.

  The body lay prone upon the deal table--this latest of the river'sdead--dressed in rough sailor garb, and, to all outward seeming, aseaman of nondescript nationality--such as is no stranger in Wappingand Shadwell. His dark, curly hair clung clammily about the brownforehead; his skin was stained, they told me. He wore a gold ring inone ear, and three fingers of the left hand were missing.

  "It was almost the same with Mason." The river police inspector wasspeaking. "A week ago, on a Wednesday, he went off in his own time onsome funny business down St. George's way--and Thursday night theten-o'clock boat got the grapnel on him off Hanover Hole. His firsttwo fingers on the right hand were clean gone, and his left hand wasmutilated frightfully."

  He paused and glanced at Smith.

  "That lascar, too," he continued, "that you came down to see, sir; youremember his hands?"

  Smith nodded.

  "He was not a lascar," he said shortly. "He was a dacoit."

  Silence fell again.

  I turned to the array of objects lying on the table--those which hadbeen found in Cadby's clothing. None of them were noteworthy, exceptthat which had been found thrust into the loose neck of his shirt.This last it was which had led the police to send for Nayland Smith,for it constituted the first clew which had come to light pointing tothe authors of these mysterious tragedies.

  It was a Chinese pigtail. That alone was sufficiently remarkable; butit was rendered more so by the fact that the plaited queue was a falseone being attached to a most ingenious bald wig.

  "You're sure it wasn't part of a Chinese make-up?" questioned Weymouth,his eye on the strange relic. "Cadby was clever at disguise."

  Smith snatched the wig from my hands with a certain irritation, andtried to fit it on the dead detective.

  "Too small by inches!" he jerked. "And look how it's padded in thecrown. This thing was made for a most abnormal head."

  He threw it down, and fell to pacing the room again.

  "Where did you find him--exactly?" he asked.

  "Limehouse Reach--under Commercial Dock Pier--exactly an hour ago."

  "And you last saw him at eight o'clock last night?"--to Weymouth.

  "Eight to a quarter past."

  "You think he has been dead nearly twenty-four hours, Petrie?"

  "Roughly, twenty-four hours," I replied.

  "Then, we know that he was on the track of the Fu-Manchu group, that hefollowed up some clew which led him to the neighborhood of old RatcliffHighway, and that he died the same night. You are sure that is wherehe was going?"

  "Yes," said Weymouth; "He was jealous of giving anything away, poorchap; it meant a big lift for him if he pulled the case off. But hegave me to understand that he expected to spend last night in thatdistrict. He left the Yard about eight, as I've said, to go to hisrooms, and dress for the job."

  "Did he keep any record of his cases?"

  "Of course! He was most particular. Cadby was a man with ambitions,sir! You'll want to see his book. Wait while I get his address; it'ssomewhere in Brixton."

  He went to the telephone, and Inspector Ryman covered up the dead man'sface.

  Nayland Smith was palpably excited.

  "He almost succeeded where we have failed, Petrie," he said. "There isno doubt in my mind that he was hot on the track of Fu-Manchu! PoorMason had probably blundered on the scent, too, and he met with asimilar fate. Without other evidence, the fact that they both died inthe same way as the dacoit would be conclusive, for we know thatFu-Manchu killed the dacoit!"

  "What is the meaning of the mutilated hands, Smith?"

  "God knows! Cadby's death was from drowning, you say?"

  "There are no other marks of violence."

  "But he was a very strong swimmer, Doctor," interrupted InspectorRyman. "Why, he pulled off the quarter-mile championship at theCrystal Palace last year! Cadby wasn't a man easy to drown. And asfor Mason, he was an R.N.R., and like a fish in the water!"

  Smith shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

  "Let us hope that one day we shall know how they died," he said simply.

  Weymouth returned from the telephone.

  "The address is No.--Cold Harbor Lane," he reported. "I shall not beable to come along, but you can't miss it; it's close by the BrixtonPolice Station. There's no family, fortunately; he was quite alone inthe world. His case-book isn't in the American desk, which you'll findin his sitting-room; it's in the cupboard in the corner--top shelf.Here are his keys, all intact. I think this is the cupboard key."

  Smith nodded.

  "Come on, Petrie," he said. "We haven't a second to waste."

  Our cab was waiting, and in a few seconds we were speeding alongWapping High Street. We had gone no more than a few hundred yards, Ithink, when Smith suddenly slapped his open hand down on his knee.

  "That pigtail!" he cried. "I have left it behind! We must have it,Petrie! Stop! Stop!"

  The cab was pulled up, and Smith alighted.

  "Don't wait for me," he directed hurriedly. "Here, take Weymouth'scard. Remember where he said the book was? It's all we want. Comestraight on to Scotland Yard and meet me there."

  "But Smith," I protested, "a few minutes can make no difference!"

  "Can't it!" he snapped. "Do you suppose Fu-Manchu is going to leaveevidence like that lying about? It's a thousand to one he has italready, but there is just a bare chance."

  It was a new aspect of the situation and one that afforded no room forcomment; and so lost in thought did I become that the cab was outsidethe house for which I was bound ere I realized that we had quitted thepurlieus of Wapping. Yet I had had leisure to review the whole troopof events which had crowded my
life since the return of Nayland Smithfrom Burma. Mentally, I had looked again upon the dead Sir CrichtonDavey, and with Smith had waited in the dark for the dreadful thingthat had killed him. Now, with those remorseless memories jostling inmy mind, I was entering the house of Fu-Manchu's last victim, and theshadow of that giant evil seemed to be upon it like a palpable cloud.

  Cadby's old landlady greeted me with a queer mixture of fear andembarrassment in her manner.

  "I am Dr. Petrie," I said, "and I regret that I bring bad newsrespecting Mr. Cadby."

  "Oh, sir!" she cried. "Don't tell me that anything has happened tohim!" And divining something of the mission on which I was come, forsuch sad duty often falls to the lot of the medical man: "Oh, the poor,brave lad!"

  Indeed, I respected the dead man's memory more than ever from thathour, since the sorrow of the worthy old soul was quite pathetic, andspoke eloquently for the unhappy cause of it.

  "There was a terrible wailing at the back of the house last night,Doctor, and I heard it again to-night, a second before you knocked.Poor lad! It was the same when his mother died."

  At the moment I paid little attention to her words, for such beliefsare common, unfortunately; but when she was sufficiently composed Iwent on to explain what I thought necessary. And now the old lady'sembarrassment took precedence of her sorrow, and presently the truthcame out:

  "There's a--young lady--in his rooms, sir."

  I started. This might mean little or might mean much.

  "She came and waited for him last night, Doctor--from ten untilhalf-past--and this morning again. She came the third time about anhour ago, and has been upstairs since."

  "Do you know her, Mrs. Dolan?"

  Mrs. Dolan grew embarrassed again.

  "Well, Doctor," she said, wiping her eyes the while, "I DO. And Godknows he was a good lad, and I like a mother to him; but she is not thegirl I should have liked a son of mine to take up with."

  At any other time, this would have been amusing; now, it might beserious. Mrs. Dolan's account of the wailing became suddenlysignificant, for perhaps it meant that one of Fu-Manchu's dacoitfollowers was watching the house, to give warning of any stranger'sapproach! Warning to whom? It was unlikely that I should forget thedark eyes of another of Fu-Manchu's servants. Was that lure of meneven now in the house, completing her evil work?

  "I should never have allowed her in his rooms--" began Mrs. Dolanagain. Then there was an interruption.

  A soft rustling reached my ears--intimately feminine. The girl wasstealing down!

  I leaped out into the hall, and she turned and fled blindly beforeme--back up the stairs! Taking three steps at a time, I followed her,bounded into the room above almost at her heels, and stood with my backto the door.

  She cowered against the desk by the window, a slim figure in a clingingsilk gown, which alone explained Mrs. Dolan's distrust. The gaslightwas turned very low, and her hat shadowed her face, but could not hideits startling beauty, could not mar the brilliancy of the skin, nor dimthe wonderful eyes of this modern Delilah. For it was she!

  "So I came in time," I said grimly, and turned the key in the lock.

  "Oh!" she panted at that, and stood facing me, leaning back with herjewel-laden hands clutching the desk edge.

  "Give me whatever you have removed from here," I said sternly, "andthen prepare to accompany me."

  She took a step forward, her eyes wide with fear, her lips parted.

  "I have taken nothing," she said. Her breast was heaving tumultuously."Oh, let me go! Please, let me go!" And impulsively she threw herselfforward, pressing clasped hands against my shoulder and looking up intomy face with passionate, pleading eyes.

  It is with some shame that I confess how her charm enveloped me like amagic cloud. Unfamiliar with the complex Oriental temperament, I hadlaughed at Nayland Smith when he had spoken of this girl's infatuation."Love in the East," he had said, "is like the conjurer's mango-tree; itis born, grows and flowers at the touch of a hand." Now, in thosepleading eyes I read confirmation of his words. Her clothes or herhair exhaled a faint perfume. Like all Fu-Manchu's servants, she wasperfectly chosen for her peculiar duties. Her beauty was whollyintoxicating.

  But I thrust her away.

  "You have no claim to mercy," I said. "Do not count upon any. Whathave you taken from here?"

  She grasped the lapels of my coat.

  "I will tell you all I can--all I dare," she panted eagerly, fearfully."I should know how to deal with your friend, but with you I am lost!If you could only understand you would not be so cruel." Her slightaccent added charm to the musical voice. "I am not free, as yourEnglish women are. What I do I must do, for it is the will of mymaster, and I am only a slave. Ah, you are not a man if you can giveme to the police. You have no heart if you can forget that I tried tosave you once."

  I had feared that plea, for, in her own Oriental fashion, she certainlyhad tried to save me from a deadly peril once--at the expense of myfriend. But I had feared the plea, for I did not know how to meet it.How could I give her up, perhaps to stand her trial for murder? Andnow I fell silent, and she saw why I was silent.

  "I may deserve no mercy; I may be even as bad as you think; but whathave YOU to do with the police? It is not your work to hound a womanto death. Could you ever look another woman in the eyes--one that youloved, and know that she trusted you--if you had done such a thing?Ah, I have no friend in all the world, or I should not be here. Do notbe my enemy, my judge, and make me worse than I am; be my friend, andsave me--from HIM." The tremulous lips were close to mine, her breathfanned my cheek. "Have mercy on me."

  At that moment I honestly would have given half of my worldlypossessions to have been spared the decision which I knew I must cometo. After all, what proof had I that she was a willing accomplice ofDr. Fu-Manchu? Furthermore, she was an Oriental, and her code mustnecessarily be different from mine. Irreconcilable as the thing may bewith Western ideas, Nayland Smith had really told me that he believedthe girl to be a slave. Then there remained that other reason why Iloathed the idea of becoming her captor. It was almost tantamount tobetrayal! Must I soil my hands with such work?

  Thus--I suppose--her seductive beauty argued against my sense of right.The jeweled fingers grasped my shoulders nervously, and her slim bodyquivered against mine as she watched me, with all her soul in her eyes,in an abandonment of pleading despair. Then I remembered the fate ofthe man in whose room we stood.

  "You lured Cadby to his death," I said, and shook her off.

  "No, no!" she cried wildly, clutching at me. "No, I swear by the holyname I did not! I did not! I watched him, spied upon him--yes! But,listen: it was because he would not be warned that he met his death. Icould not save him! Ah, I am not so bad as that. I will tell you. Ihave taken his notebook and torn out the last pages and burnt them.Look! in the grate. The book was too big to steal away. I came twiceand could not find it. There, will you let me go?"

  "If you will tell me where and how to seize Dr. Fu-Manchu--yes."

  Her hands dropped and she took a backward step. A new terror was to beread in her face.

  "I dare not! I dare not!"

  "Then you would--if you dared?"

  She was watching me intently.

  "Not if YOU would go to find him," she said.

  And, with all that I thought her to be, the stern servant of justicethat I would have had myself, I felt the hot blood leap to my cheek atall which the words implied. She grasped my arm.

  "Could you hide me from him if I came to you, and told you all I know?"

  "The authorities--"

  "Ah!" Her expression changed. "They can put me on the rack if theychoose, but never one word would I speak--never one little word."

  She threw up her head scornfully. Then the proud glance softened again.

  "But I will speak for you."

  Closer she came, and closer, until she could whisper in my ear.

  "Hide me from
your police, from HIM, from everybody, and I will nolonger be his slave."

  My heart was beating with painful rapidity. I had not counted on thiswarring with a woman; moreover, it was harder than I could have dreamtof. For some time I had been aware that by the charm of herpersonality and the art of her pleading she had brought me down from myjudgment seat--had made it all but impossible for me to give her up tojustice. Now, I was disarmed--but in a quandary. What should I do?What COULD I do? I turned away from her and walked to the hearth, inwhich some paper ash lay and yet emitted a faint smell.

  Not more than ten seconds elapsed, I am confident, from the time that Istepped across the room until I glanced back. But she had gone!

  As I leapt to the door the key turned gently from the outside.

  "Ma 'alesh!" came her soft whisper; "but I am afraid to trust you--yet.Be comforted, for there is one near who would have killed you had Iwished it. Remember, I will come to you whenever you will take me andhide me."

  Light footsteps pattered down the stairs. I heard a stifled cry fromMrs. Dolan as the mysterious visitor ran past her. The front dooropened and closed.