CHAPTER XXVII
WE quitted the wrecked launch but a few seconds before her sternsettled down into the river. Where the mud-bank upon which we foundourselves was situated we had no idea. But at least it was terra firmaand we were free from Dr. Fu-Manchu.
Smith stood looking out towards the river.
"My God!" he groaned. "My God!"
He was thinking, as I was, of Weymouth.
And when, an hour later, the police boat located us (on the mud-flatsbelow Greenwich) and we heard that the toll of the poison cellars waseight men, we also heard news of our brave companion.
"Back there in the fog, sir," reported Inspector Ryman, who was incharge, and his voice was under poor command, "there was an uncannyhowling, and peals of laughter that I'm going to dream about forweeks--"
Karamaneh, who nestled beside me like a frightened child, shivered; andI knew that the needle had done its work, despite Weymouth's giantstrength.
Smith swallowed noisily.
"Pray God the river has that yellow Satan," he said. "I wouldsacrifice a year of my life to see his rat's body on the end of agrappling-iron!"
We were a sad party that steamed through the fog homeward that night.It seemed almost like deserting a staunch comrade to leave the spot--sonearly as we could locate it--where Weymouth had put up that lastgallant fight. Our helplessness was pathetic, and although, had thenight been clear as crystal, I doubt if we could have acted otherwise,it came to me that this stinking murk was a new enemy which drove usback in coward retreat.
But so many were the calls upon our activity, and so numerous thestimulants to our initiative in those times, that soon we had matter torelieve our minds from this stress of sorrow.
There was Karamaneh to be considered--Karamaneh and her brother. Abrief counsel was held, whereat it was decided that for the presentthey should be lodged at a hotel.
"I shall arrange," Smith whispered to me, for the girl was watching us,"to have the place patrolled night and day."
"You cannot suppose--"
"Petrie! I cannot and dare not suppose Fu-Manchu dead until with myown eyes I have seen him so!"
Accordingly we conveyed the beautiful Oriental girl and her brotheraway from that luxurious abode in its sordid setting. I will not dwellupon the final scene in the poison cellars lest I be accused ofaccumulating horror for horror's sake. Members of the fire brigade,helmed against contagion, brought out the bodies of the victims wrappedin their living shrouds. . . .
From Karamaneh we learned much of Fu-Manchu, little of herself.
"What am I? Does my poor history matter--to anyone?" was her answer toquestions respecting herself.
And she would droop her lashes over her dark eyes.
The dacoits whom the Chinaman had brought to England originallynumbered seven, we learned. As you, having followed me thus far, willbe aware, we had thinned the ranks of the Burmans. Probably only onenow remained in England. They had lived in a camp in the grounds ofthe house near Windsor (which, as we had learned at the time of itsdestruction, the Doctor had bought outright). The Thames had been hishighway.
Other members of the group had occupied quarters in various parts ofthe East End, where sailormen of all nationalities congregate.Shen-Yan's had been the East End headquarters. He had employed thehulk from the time of his arrival, as a laboratory for a certain classof experiments undesirable in proximity to a place of residence.
Nayland Smith asked the girl on one occasion if the Chinaman had had aprivate sea-going vessel, and she replied in the affirmative. She hadnever been on board, however, had never even set eyes upon it, andcould give us no information respecting its character. It had sailedfor China.
"You are sure," asked Smith keenly, "that it has actually left?"
"I understood so, and that we were to follow by another route."
"It would have been difficult for Fu-Manchu to travel by a passengerboat?"
"I cannot say what were his plans."
In a state of singular uncertainty, then, readily to be understood, wepassed the days following the tragedy which had deprived us of ourfellow-worker.
Vividly I recall the scene at poor Weymouth's home, on the day that wevisited it. I then made the acquaintance of the Inspector's brother.Nayland Smith gave him a detailed account of the last scene.
"Out there in the mist," he concluded wearily, "it all seemed veryunreal."
"I wish to God it had been!"
"Amen to that, Mr. Weymouth. But your brother made a gallant finish.If ridding the world of Fu-Manchu were the only good deed to hiscredit, his life had been well spent."
James Weymouth smoked awhile in thoughtful silence. Though but fourand a half miles S.S.E. of St. Paul's the quaint little cottage, withits rustic garden, shadowed by the tall trees which had so lined thevillage street before motor 'buses were, was a spot as peaceful andsecluded as any in broad England. But another shadow lay upon itto-day--chilling, fearful. An incarnate evil had come out of the dimEast and in its dying malevolence had touched this home.
"There are two things I don't understand about it, sir," continuedWeymouth. "What was the meaning of the horrible laughter which theriver police heard in the fog? And where are the bodies?"
Karamaneh, seated beside me, shuddered at the words. Smith, whoserestless spirit granted him little repose, paused in his aimlesswanderings about the room and looked at her.
In these latter days of his Augean labors to purge England of theunclean thing which had fastened upon her, my friend was more lean andnervous-looking than I had ever known him. His long residence in Burmahad rendered him spare and had burned his naturally dark skin to acoppery hue; but now his gray eyes had grown feverishly bright and hisface so lean as at times to appear positively emaciated. But I knewthat he was as fit as ever.
"This lady may be able to answer your first question," he said. "Sheand her brother were for some time in the household of Dr. Fu-Manchu.In fact, Mr. Weymouth, Karamaneh, as her name implies, was a slave."
Weymouth glanced at the beautiful, troubled face with scarcely veileddistrust. "You don't look as though you had come from China, miss," hesaid, with a sort of unwilling admiration.
"I do not come from China," replied Karamaneh. "My father was a pureBedawee. But my history does not matter." (At times there wassomething imperious in her manner; and to this her musical accent addedforce.) "When your brave brother, Inspector Weymouth, and Dr.Fu-Manchu, were swallowed up by the river, Fu-Manchu held a poisonedneedle in his hand. The laughter meant that the needle had done itswork. Your brother had become mad!"
Weymouth turned aside to hide his emotion. "What was on the needle?"he asked huskily.
"It was something which he prepared from the venom of a kind of swampadder," she answered. "It produces madness, but not always death."
"He would have had a poor chance," said Smith, "even had he been incomplete possession of his senses. At the time of the encounter wemust have been some considerable distance from shore, and the fog wasimpenetrable."
"But how do you account for the fact that neither of the bodies havebeen recovered?"
"Ryman of the river police tells me that persons lost at that point arenot always recovered--or not until a considerable time later."
There was a faint sound from the room above. The news of that tragichappening out in the mist upon the Thames had prostrated poor Mrs.Weymouth.
"She hasn't been told half the truth," said her brother-in-law. "Shedoesn't know about--the poisoned needle. What kind of fiend was thisDr. Fu-Manchu?" He burst out into a sudden blaze of furious resentment."John never told me much, and you have let mighty little leak into thepapers. What was he? Who was he?"
Half he addressed the words to Smith, half to Karamaneh.
"Dr. Fu-Manchu," replied the former, "was the ultimate expression ofChinese cunning; a phenomenon such as occurs but once in manygenerations. He was a superman of incredible genius, who, had hewilled, could have revolution
ized science. There is a superstition insome parts of China according to which, under certain peculiarconditions (one of which is proximity to a deserted burial-ground) anevil spirit of incredible age may enter unto the body of a new-borninfant. All my efforts thus far have not availed me to trace thegenealogy of the man called Dr. Fu-Manchu. Even Karamaneh cannot helpme in this. But I have sometimes thought that he was a member of acertain very old Kiangsu family--and that the peculiar conditions Ihave mentioned prevailed at his birth!"
Smith, observing our looks of amazement, laughed shortly, and quitemirthlessly.
"Poor old Weymouth!" he jerked. "I suppose my labors are finished; butI am far from triumphant. Is there any improvement in Mrs. Weymouth'scondition?"
"Very little," was the reply; "she has lain in a semi-conscious statesince the news came. No one had any idea she would take it so. At onetime we were afraid her brain was going. She seemed to have delusions."
Smith spun round upon Weymouth.
"Of what nature?" he asked rapidly.
The other pulled nervously at his mustache.
"My wife has been staying with her," he explained, "since--it happened;and for the last three nights poor John's widow has cried out at thesame time--half-past two--that someone was knocking on the door."
"What door?"
"That door yonder--the street door."
All our eyes turned in the direction indicated.
"John often came home at half-past two from the Yard," continuedWeymouth; "so we naturally thought poor Mary was wandering in her mind.But last night--and it's not to be wondered at--my wife couldn't sleep,and she was wide awake at half-past two."
"Well?"
Nayland Smith was standing before him, alert, bright-eyed.
"She heard it, too!"
The sun was streaming into the cozy little sitting-room; but I willconfess that Weymouth's words chilled me uncannily. Karamaneh laid herhand upon mine, in a quaint, childish fashion peculiarly her own. Herhand was cold, but its touch thrilled me. For Karamaneh was not achild, but a rarely beautiful girl--a pearl of the East such as many amonarch has fought for.
"What then?" asked Smith.
"She was afraid to move--afraid to look from the window!"
My friend turned and stared hard at me.
"A subjective hallucination, Petrie?"
"In all probability," I replied. "You should arrange that your wife berelieved in her trying duties, Mr. Weymouth. It is too great a strainfor an inexperienced nurse."