CHAPTER XXVII
ROOM WITH THE GOLDEN DOOR
One night early in the following week I sat at work upon my notesdealing with our almost miraculous escape from the blazing hashishhouse when the clock of St. Paul's began to strike midnight.
I paused in my work, leaning back wearily and wondering what detainedNayland Smith so late. Some friends from Burma had carried him off toa theater, and in their good company I had thought him safe enough;yet, with the omnipresent menace of Fu-Manchu hanging over our heads,always I doubted, always I feared, if my friend should chance to bedelayed abroad at night.
What a world of unreality was mine, in those days! Jostling, as I did,commonplace folk in commonplace surroundings, I yet knew myself removedfrom them, knew myself all but alone in my knowledge of the great andevil man, whose presence in England had diverted my life into thesestrange channels.
But, despite of all my knowledge, and despite the infinitely greaterknowledge and wider experience of Nayland Smith, what did I know, whatdid he know, of the strange organization called the Si-Fan, and of itsmost formidable member, Dr. Fu-Manchu?
Where did the dreadful Chinaman hide, with his murderers, his poisons,and his nameless death agents? What roof in broad England shelteredKaramaneh, the companion of my dreams, the desire of every waking hour?
I uttered a sigh of despair, when, to my unbounded astonishment, therecame a loud rap upon the window pane!
Leaping up, I crossed to the window, threw it widely open and leant out,looking down into the court below. It was deserted. In no other windowvisible to me was any light to be seen, and no living thing moved inthe shadows beneath. The clamor of Fleet Street's diminishing trafficcame dimly to my ears; the last stroke from St. Paul's quivered throughthe night.
What was the meaning of the sound which had disturbed me? Surely Icould not have imagined it? Yet, right, left, above and below, from thecloisteresque shadows on the east of the court to the blank wall of thebuilding on the west, no living thing stirred.
Quietly, I reclosed the window, and stood by it for a moment listening.Nothing occurred, and I returned to the writing-table, puzzled but inno sense alarmed. I resumed the seemingly interminable record of theSi-Fan mysteries, and I had just taken up my pen, when ... two loudraps sounded upon the pane behind me.
In a trice I was at the window, had thrown it open, and was craningout. Practical joking was not characteristic of Nayland Smith, and Iknew of none other likely to take such a liberty. As before, the courtbelow proved to be empty....
Some one was softly rapping at the door of the chambers!
I turned swiftly from the open window; and now, came _fear_.Momentarily, the icy finger of panic touched me, for I thought myselfinvested upon all sides. Who could this late caller be, this midnightvisitor who rapped, ghostly, in preference to ringing the bell?
From the table drawer I took out a Browning pistol, slipped it into mypocket and crossed to the narrow hallway. It was in darkness, but Idepressed the switch, lighting the lamp. Toward the closed door I looked--as the soft rapping was repeated.
I advanced; then hesitated, and, strung up to a keen pitch of fearfulanticipation, stood there in doubt. The silence remained unbroken forthe space, perhaps of half a minute. Then again came the ghostly rapping.
"Who's there?" I cried loudly.
Nothing stirred outside the door, and still I hesitated. To some whoread, my hesitancy may brand me childishly timid; but I, who had metmany of the dreadful creatures of Dr. Fu-Manchu, had good reason tofear whomsoever or whatsoever rapped at midnight upon my door. Was Ilikely to forget the great half-human ape, with the strength of fourlusty men, which once he had loosed upon us?--had I not cause toremember his Burmese dacoits and Chinese stranglers?
No, I had just cause for dread, as I fully recognized when, snatchingthe pistol from my pocket, I strode forward, flung wide the door, andstood peering out into the black gulf of the stairhead.
Nothing, no one, appeared!
Conscious of a longing to cry out--if only that the sound of my ownvoice might reassure me--I stood listening. The silence was complete.
"Who's there?" I cried again, and loudly enough to arrest the attentionof the occupant of the chambers opposite if he chanced to be at home.
None replied; and finding this phantom silence more nerve-racking thanany clamor, I stepped outside the door--and my heart gave a great leap,then seemed to remain inert, in my breast....
Right and left of me, upon either side of the doorway, stood a dimfigure: I had walked deliberately into a trap!
The shock of the discovery paralyzed my mind for one instant. In thenext, and with the sinister pair closing swiftly upon me, I steppedback--I stepped into the arms of some third assailant, who must haveentered the chambers by way of the open window and silently crept upbehind me!
So much I realized, and no more. A bag, reeking of some hashish-likeperfume, was clapped over my head and pressed firmly against mouthand nostrils. I felt myself to be stifling--dying--and dropping intoa bottomless pit.
When I opened my eyes I failed for some time to realize that I wasconscious in the true sense of the word, that I was really awake.
I sat upon a bench covered with a red carpet, in a fair-sized room,very simply furnished, in the Chinese manner, but having a two-leaved,gilded door, which was shut. At the further end of this apartment wasa dais some three feet high, also carpeted with red, and upon it wasplaced a very large cushion covered with a tiger skin.
Seated cross-legged upon the cushion was a Chinaman of most majesticappearance. His countenance was truly noble and gracious and he wasdressed in a yellow robe lined with marten-fur. His hair, which wasthickly splashed with gray, was confined upon the top of his head bythree golden combs, and a large diamond was suspended from his leftear. A pearl-embroidered black cap, surmounted by the red coral balldenoting the mandarin's rank, lay upon a second smaller cushionbeside him.
Leaning back against the wall, I stared at his personage with adreadful fixity, for I counted him the figment of a disarranged mind.But palpably he remained before me, fanning himself complacently, andwatching me with every mark of kindly interest. Evidently perceivingthat I was fully alive to my surroundings, the Chinaman addressed aremark to me in a tongue quite unfamiliar.
I shook my head dazedly.
"Ah," he commented in French, "you do not speak my language."
"I do not," I answered, also in French, "but since it seems we haveone common tongue, what is the meaning of the outrage to which I havebeen subjected, and who are you?"
As I spoke the words I rose to my feet, but was immediately attackedby vertigo, which compelled me to resume my seat upon the bench.
"Compose yourself," said the Chinaman, taking a pinch of snuff from asilver vase which stood convenient to his hand. "I have been compelledto adopt certain measures in order to bring about this interview. InChina, such measures are not unusual, but I recognize that they areout of accordance with your English ideas."
"Emphatically they are!" I replied.
The placid manner of this singularly imposing old man rendered properresentment difficult. A sense of futility, and of unreality, claimedme; I felt that this was a dream-world, governed by dream-laws.
"You have good reason," he continued, calmly raising the pinch ofsnuff to his nostrils, "good reason to distrust all that is Chinese.Therefore, when I despatched my servants to your abode (knowing youto be alone) I instructed them to observe every law of courtesy,compatible with the Sure Invitation. Hence, I pray you, absolve me,for I intended no offense."
Words failed me altogether; wonder succeeded wonder! What was coming?What did it all mean?
"I have selected you, rather than Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith,"continued the mandarin, "as the recipient of those secrets which I amabout to impart, for the reason that your friend might possibly beacquainted with my appearance. I will confess there was a time when Imust have regarded you with animosity, as one who sought thedestructio
n of the most ancient and potent organization in the world--the Si-Fan."
As he uttered the words he raised his right hand and touched hisforehead, his mouth, and finally his breast--a gesture reminiscent ofthat employed by Moslems.
"But my first task is to assure you," he resumed, "that the activitiesof that Order are in no way inimical to yourself, your country or yourKing. The extensive ramifications of the Order have recently beenemployed by a certain Dr. Fu-Manchu for his own ends, and, since hewas (I admit it) a high official, a schism has been created in ourranks. Exactly a month ago, sentence of death was passed upon him bythe Sublime Prince, and since I myself must return immediately to China,I look to Mr. Nayland Smith to carry out that sentence."
I said nothing; I remained bereft of the power of speech.
"The Si-Fan," he added, repeating the gesture with his hand, "disownDr. Fu-Manchu and his servants; do with them what you will. In thisenvelope"--he held up a sealed package--"is information which shouldprove helpful to Mr. Smith. I have now a request to make. You wereconveyed here in the garments which your wore at the time that myservants called upon you." (I was hatless and wore red leathernslippers.) "An overcoat and a hat can doubtless be found to suit you,temporarily, and my request is that you close your eyes untilpermission is given to open them."
Is there any one of my readers in doubt respecting my reception ofthis proposal? Remember my situation, remember the bizarre happeningthat had led up to it; remember, too, ere judging me, that whilst Icould not doubt the unseen presence of Chinamen unnumbered surroundingthat strange apartment with the golden door, I had not the remotestclue to guide me in determining where it was situated. Since theduration of my unconsciousness was immeasurable, the place in which Ifound myself might have been anywhere, within say, thirty miles ofFleet Street!
"I agree," I said.
The mandarin bowed composedly.
"Kindly close your eyes, Dr. Petrie," he requested, "and fear nothing.No danger threatens you."
I obeyed. Instantly sounded the note of a gong, and I became awarethat the golden door was open. A soft voice, evidently that of acultured Chinaman, spoke quite close to my ear--
"Keep your eyes tightly closed, please, and I will help you on withthis coat. The envelope you will find in the pocket and here is atweed cap. Now take my hand."
Wearing the borrowed garments, I was led from the room, along apassage, down a flight of thickly carpeted stairs, and so out of thehouse into the street. Faint evidences of remote traffic reached myears as I was assisted into a car and placed in a cushioned corner.The car moved off, proceeded for some distance; then--
"Allow me to help you to descend," said the soft voice. "You may openyour eyes in thirty seconds."
I was assisted from the step on to the pavement--and I heard the carbeing driven back. Having slowly counted thirty I opened my eyes, andlooked about me. This, and not the fevered moment when first I hadlooked upon the room with the golden door, seemed to be my trueawakening, for about me was comprehensible world, the homely streetsof London, with deserted Portland Place stretching away on the onehand and a glimpse of midnight Regent Street obtainable on the other!The clock of the neighboring church struck one.
My mind yet dull with wonder of it all, I walked on to Oxford Circusand there obtained a taxicab, in which I drove to Fleet Street.Discharging the man, I passed quickly under the time worn archwayinto the court and approached our stair. Indeed, I was about to ascendwhen some one came racing down and almost knocked me over.
"Petrie! Petrie! Thank God you're safe!"
It was Nayland Smith, his eyes blazing with excitement, as I couldsee by the dim light of the lamp near the archway, and his hands, ashe clapped them upon my shoulders, quivering tensely.
"Petrie!" he ran on impulsively, and speaking with extraordinaryrapidly, "I was detained by a most ingenious trick and arrived onlyfive minutes ago, to find you missing, the window wide open, and signsof hooks, evidently to support a rope ladder, having been attachedto the ledge."
"But where were you going?"
"Weymouth has just rung up. We have indisputable proof that themandarin Ki-Ming, whom I had believed to be dead, and whom I know fora high official of the Si-Fan, is actually in London! It's neck ornothing this time, Petrie! I'm going straight to Portland Place!"
"To the Chinese Legation?"
"Exactly!"
"Perhaps I can save you a journey," I said slowly. "I have just comefrom there!"