CHAPTER XXIX
LAMA SORCERY
From my post in the chair by the window I could see two sides of thecourt below; that immediately opposite, with the entrance to somechambers situated there, and that on the right, with the cloisteresquearches beyond which lay a maze of old-world passages and stairswhereby one who knew the tortuous navigation might come ultimatelyto the Embankment.
It was this side of the court which lay in deepest shadow. By alteringmy position quite slightly I could command a view of the archedentrance on the left with its pale lamp in an iron bracket above, andof the high blank wall whose otherwise unbroken expanse it interrupted.All was very still; only on occasions the passing of a vehicle alongFleet Street would break the silence.
The nature of the danger that threatened I was wholly unable tosurmise. Since, my pistol on the table beside me, I sat on guard atthe window, and Smith, also armed, watched the outer door, it was notapparent by what agency the shadowy enemy could hope to come at us.
Something strange I had detected in Nayland Smith's manner, however,which had induced me to believe that he suspected, if he did not know,what form of menace hung over us in the darkness. One thing inparticular was puzzling me extremely: if Smith doubted the good faithof the sender of the message, why had he acted upon it?
Thus my mind worked--in endless and profitless cycles--whilst my eyeswere ever searching the shadows below me.
And, as I watched, wondering vaguely why Smith at his post was sosilent, presently I became aware of the presence of a slim figureover by the arches on the right. This discovery did not come suddenly,nor did it surprise me; I merely observed without being conscious ofany great interest in the matter, that some one was standing in thecourt below, looking up at me where I sat.
I cannot hope to explain my state of mind at that moment, to renderunderstandable by contrast with the cold fear which had visited me sorecently, the utter apathy of my mental attitude. To this day I cannotrecapture the mood--and for a very good reason, though one that wasnot apparent to me at the time.
It was the Eurasian girl Zarmi, who was standing there, looking up atthe window! Silently I watched her. Why was I silent?--why did I notwarn Smith of the presence of one of Dr. Fu-Manchu's servants? Icannot explain, although later, the strangeness of my behavior maybecome in some measure understandable.
Zarmi raised her hand, beckoning to me, then stepped back, revealingthe presence of a companion, hitherto masked by the dense shadows thatlay under the arches. This second watcher moved slowly forward, and Iperceived him to be none other than the mandarin Ki-Ming.
This I noted with interest, but with a sort of _impersonal_ interest,as I might have watched the entrance of a character upon the stage ofa theater. Despite the feeble light, I could see his benigncountenance very clearly; but, far from being excited, a dreamycontentment possessed me; I actually found myself hoping that Smithwould not intrude upon my reverie!
What a fascinating pageant it had been--the Fu-Manchu drama--from themoment that I had first set eyes upon the Yellow doctor. Again I seemedto be enacting my part in that scene, two years ago and more, when Ihad burst into the bare room above Shen-Yan's opium den and had stoodface to face with Dr. Fu-Manchu. He wore a plain yellow robe, its huealmost identical with that of his gaunt, hairless face; his elbowsrested upon the dirty table and his pointed chin upon his long,bony hands.
Into those uncanny eyes I stared, those eyes, long, narrow, andslightly oblique, their brilliant, catlike greenness sometimes horriblyfilmed, like the eyes of some grotesque bird....
Thus it began; and from this point I was carried on, step by stepthrough every episode, great and small. It was such a retrospect aspasses through the mind of one drowning.
With a vividness that was terrible yet exquisite, I saw Karamaneh, mylost love; I saw her first wrapped in a hooded opera-cloak, with herflower-like face and glorious dark eyes raised to me; I saw her in thegauzy Eastern raiment of a slave-girl, and I saw her in the dress ofa gipsy.
Through moments sweet and bitter I lived again, through hours ofsuspense and days of ceaseless watching; through the long months ofthat first summer when my unhappy love came to me, and on, on,interminably on. For years I lived again beneath that ghastly Yellowcloud. I searched throughout the land of Egypt for Karamaneh and knewonce more the sorrow of losing her. Time ceased to exist for me.
Then, at the end of these strenuous years, I came at last to mymeeting with Ki-Ming in the room with the golden door. At this pointmy visionary adventures took a new turn. I sat again upon thered-covered couch and listened, half stupefied, to the placid speechof the mandarin. Again I came under the spell of his singularpersonality, and again, closing my eyes, I consented to be led fromthe room.
But, having crossed the threshold, a sudden awful doubt passed throughmy mind, arrow-like. The hand that held my arm was bony and clawish;I could detect the presence of incredibly long finger nails--nailslong as those of some buried vampire of the black ages!
Choking down a cry of horror, I opened my eyes--heedless of thepromise given but a few moments earlier--and looked into the face ofmy guide.
It was Dr. Fu-Manchu!...
Never, dreaming or waking, have I known a sensation identical withthat which now clutched my heart; I thought that it must be death.For ages, untold ages--aeons longer than the world has known--I lookedinto that still, awful face, into those unnatural green eyes. I jerkedmy hand free from the Chinaman's clutch and sprang back.
As I did so, I became miraculously translated from the threshold ofthe room with the golden door to our chambers in the court adjoiningFleet Street; I came into full possession of my faculties (or believedso at the time); I realized that I had nodded at my post, that I haddreamed a strange dream ... but I realized something else. A ghoulishpresence was in the room.
Snatching up my pistol from the table I turned. Like some evil jinn ofArabian lore, Dr. Fu-Manchu, surrounded by a slight mist, stoodlooking at me!
Instantly I raised the pistol, leveled it steadily at the high,dome-like brow--and fired! There could be no possibility of missing atsuch short range, no possibility whatever ... and in the very instantof pulling the trigger the mist cleared, the lineaments of Dr.Fu-Manchu melted magically. This was not the Chinese doctor who stoodbefore me, at whose skull I still was pointing the deadly littleweapon, into whose brain I had fired the bullet; _it was NaylandSmith!_
Ki-Ming, by means of the unholy arts of the Lamas of Rache-Churan,had caused my to murder my best friend!
"Smith!" I whispered huskily--"God forgive me, what have I done? Whathave I done?"
I stepped forward to support him ere he fell; but utter oblivionclosed down upon me, and I knew no more.
* * * * * * *
"He will do quite well now." said a voice that seemed to come from avast distance. "The effects of the drug will have entirely worn offwhen he wakes, except that there may be nausea, and possibly muscularpain for a time."
I opened my eyes; they were throbbing agonizingly. I lay in bed, andbeside me stood Murdoch McCabe, the famous toxicological expert fromCharing Cross Hospital--and Nayland Smith!
"Ah, that's better!" cried McCabe cheerily. "Here--drink this."
I drank from the glass which he raised to my lips. I was too weak forspeech, too weak for wonder. Nayland Smith, his face gray and drawn inthe cold light of early morning, watched me anxiously. McCabe in amatter of fact way that acted upon me like a welcome tonic, put severalpurely medical questions, which at first by dint of a great effort,but, with ever-increasing ease, I answered.
"Yes," he said musingly at last. "Of course it is all but impossibleto speak with certainty, but I am disposed to think that you have beendrugged with some preparation of hashish. The most likely is thatknown in Eastern countries as _maagun_ or _barsh_, composed of equalparts of _cannabis indica_ and opium, with hellebore and two otherconstituents, which vary according to the purpose which the _maagun_is
intended to serve. This renders the subject particularly open tosubjective hallucination, and a pliable instrument in the hands of ahypnotic operator, for instance."
"You see, old man?" cried Smith eagerly. "You see?"
But I shook my head weakly.
"I shot you," I said. "It is impossible that I could have missed."
"Mr. Smith has placed me in possession of the facts," interruptedMcCabe, "and I can outline with reasonable certainty what took place.Of course, it's all very amazing, utterly fantastic in fact, but Ihave met with almost parallel cases in Egypt, in India, and elsewherein the East: never in London, I'll confess. You see, Dr. Petrie, youwere taken into the presence of a very accomplished hypnotist, havingbeen previously prepared by a stiff administration of _maagun_.You are doubtless familiar with the remarkable experiments inpsycho-therapeutics conducted at the Salpetrier in Paris, and youwill readily understand me when I say that, prior to your recoveringconsciousness in the presence of the mandarin Ki-Ming, you hadreceived your hypnotic instructions.
"These were to be put into execution either at a certain time (dulyimpressed upon your drugged mind) or at a given signal...."
"It was a signal," snapped Smith. "Ki-Ming stood in the court belowand looked up at the window," I objected.
"In that event," snapped Smith, "he would have spoken softly, throughthe letter-box of the door!"
"You immediately resumed your interrupted trance," continued McCabe,"and by hypnotic suggestion impressed upon you earlier in the evening,you were ingeniously led up to a point at which, under what delusionI know not, you fired at Mr. Smith. I had the privilege of studying analmost parallel case in Simla, where an officer was fatally stabbed byhis _khitmatgar_ (a most faithful servant) acting under the hypnoticprompting of a certain _fakir_ whom the officer had been unwiseenough to chastise. The _fakir_ paid for the crime with his life, Imay add. The _khitmatgar_ shot him, ten minutes later."
"I had no chance at Ki-Ming," snapped Smith. "He vanished like ashadow. But has has played his big card and lost! Henceforth he is ahunted man; and he knows it! Oh!" he cried, seeing me watching him inbewilderment, "I suspected some Lama trickery, old man, and I stuckclosely to the arrangements proposed by the mandarin, but kept youunder careful observation!"
"But, Smith--I shot you! It was impossible to miss!"
"I agree. But do you recall the _report?_"
"The report? I was too dazed, too horrified, by the discovery of whatI had done...."
"There was no report, Petrie. I am not entirely a stranger toIndo-Chinese jugglery, and you had a very strange look in your eyes.Therefore I took the precaution of unloading your Browning!"