CHAPTER XXVIII. THE SAMURAI'S SWORD
The muffled drumming of sleepless London seemed very remote from us,as side by side we crept up the narrow path to the studio. This was astarry but moonless night, and the little dingy white building with asolitary tree peeping, in silhouette, above the glazed roof, bore an oddresemblance to one of those tombs which form a city of the dead so nearto the city of feverish life on the slopes of the Mokattam Hills. Thisline of reflection proved unpleasant, and I dismissed it sternly from mymind.
The shriek of a train-whistle reached me, a sound which breaks thestillness of the most silent London night, telling of the ceaseless,febrile life of the great world-capital whose activity ceases not withthe coming of darkness. Around and about us a very great stillnessreigned, however, and the velvet dusk which, with the star-jeweled sky,was strongly suggestive of an Eastern night--gave up no sign to showthat it masked the presence of more than twenty men. Some distance awayon our right was the Gables, that sinister and deserted mansion whichwe assumed, and with good reason, to be nothing less than the gatewayto the subterranean abode of Dr. Fu-Manchu; before us was the studio,which, if Nayland Smith's deductions were accurate, concealed a secondentrance to the same mysterious dwelling.
As my friend, glancing cautiously all about him, inserted the key inthe lock, an owl hooted dismally almost immediately above our heads. Icaught my breath sharply, for it might be a signal; but, looking upward,I saw a great black shape float slantingly from the tree beyond thestudio into the coppice on the right which hemmed in the Gables.Silently the owl winged its uncanny flight into the greater darkness ofthe trees, and was gone. Smith opened the door and we stepped intothe studio. Our plans had been well considered, and in accordance withthese, I now moved up beside my friend, who was dimly perceptible to mein the starlight which found access through the glass roof, and pressedthe catch of my electric pocket-lamp...
I suppose that by virtue of my self-imposed duty as chronicler of thedeeds of Dr. Fu-Manchu--the greatest and most evil genius whom thelater centuries have produced, the man who dreamt of an universal YellowEmpire--I should have acquired a certain facility in describing bizarrehappenings. But I confess that it fails me now as I attempt in coldEnglish to portray my emotions when the white beam from the littlelamp cut through the darkness of the studio, and shone fully upon thebeautiful face of Karamaneh!
Less than six feet away from me she stood, arrayed in the gauzy dress ofthe harem, her fingers and slim white arms laden with barbaric jewelry!The light wavered in my suddenly nerveless hand, gleaming momentarilyupon bare ankles and golden anklets, upon little red leather shoes.
I spoke no word, and Smith was as silent as I; both of us, I think, werespeechless rather from amazement than in obedience to the evident wishesof Fu-Manchu's slave-girl. Yet I have only to close my eyes at thismoment to see her as she stood, one finger raised to her lips, enjoiningus to silence. She looked ghastly pale in the light of the lamp, but solovely that my rebellious heart threatened already, to make a fool ofme.
So we stood in that untidy studio, with canvases and easels heapedagainst the wall and with all sorts of litter about us, a trio strangelymet, and one to have amused the high gods watching through the windowsof the stars.
"Go back!" came in a whisper from Karamaneh.
I saw the red lips moving and read a dreadful horror in the widelyopened eyes, in those eyes like pools of mystery to taunt the thirstysoul. The world of realities was slipping past me; I seemed to be losingmy hold on things actual; I had built up an Eastern palace about myselfand Karamaneh wherein, the world shut out, I might pass the hours inreading the mystery of those dark eyes. Nayland Smith brought me sharplyto my senses.
"Steady with the light, Petrie!" he hissed in my ear. "My skepticism hasbeen shaken, to-night, but I am taking no chances."
He moved from my side and forward toward that lovely, unreal figurewhich stood immediately before the model's throne and its backgroundof plush curtains. Karamaneh started forward to meet him, suppressing alittle cry, whose real anguish could not have been simulated.
"Go back! go back!" she whispered urgently, and thrust out her handsagainst Smith's breast. "For God's sake, go back! I have risked my lifeto come here to-night. He knows, and is ready!"...
The words were spoken with passionate intensity, and Nayland Smithhesitated. To my nostrils was wafted that faint, delightful perfumewhich, since one night, two years ago, it had come to disturb my senses,had taunted me many times as the mirage taunts the parched Saharatraveler. I took a step forward.
"Don't move!" snapped Smith.
Karamaneh clutched frenziedly at the lapels of his coat.
"Listen to me!" she said, beseechingly and stamped one little foot uponthe floor--"listen to me! You are a clever man, but you know nothing ofa woman's heart--nothing--nothing--if seeing me, hearing me, knowing,as you do know, I risk, you can doubt that I speak the truth. And I tellyou that it is death to go behind those curtains--that he..."
"That's what I wanted to know!" snapped Smith. His voice quivered withexcitement.
Suddenly grasping Karamaneh by the waist, he lifted her and set heraside; then in three bounds he was on to the model's throne and had tornthe Plush curtains bodily from their fastenings.
How it occurred I cannot hope to make dear, for here my recollectionsmerge into a chaos. I know that Smith seemed to topple forward amid thepurple billows of velvet, and his muffled cry came to me:
"Petrie! My God, Petrie!"...
The pale face of Karamaneh looked up into mine and her hands wereclutching me, but the glamour of her personality had lost its hold,for I knew--heavens, how poignantly it struck home to me!--that NaylandSmith was gone to his death. What I hoped to achieve, I know not, buthurling the trembling girl aside, I snatched the Browning pistol from mycoat pocket, and with the ray of the lamp directed upon the purple moundof velvet, I leaped forward.
I think I realized that the curtains had masked a collapsible trap, asheer pit of blackness, an instant before I was precipitated into it,but certainly the knowledge came too late. With the sound of a soft,shuddering cry in my ears, I fell, dropping lamp and pistol, andclutching at the fallen hangings. But they offered me no support. Myhead seemed to be bursting; I could utter only a hoarse groan, as Ifell--fell--fell...
When my mind began to work again, in returning consciousness, I found itto be laden with reproach. How often in the past had we blindly hurledourselves into just such a trap as this? Should we never learn thatwhere Fu-Manchu was, impetuosity must prove fatal? On two distinctoccasions in the past we had been made the victims of this device,yet even although we had had practically conclusive evidence that thisstudio was used by Dr. Fu-Manchu, we had relied upon its floor being assecure as that of any other studio, we had failed to sound every foot ofit ere trusting our weight to its support....
"There is such a divine simplicity in the English mind that one maylay one's plans with mathematical precision, and rely upon the NaylandSmiths and Dr. Petries to play their allotted parts. Excepting twofaithful followers, my friends are long since departed. But here, inthese vaults which time has overlooked and which are as secret and asserviceable to-day as they were two hundred years ago, I wait patiently,with my trap set, like the spider for the fly!..."
To the sound of that taunting voice, I opened my eyes. As I did so Istrove to spring upright--only to realize that I was tied fast to aheavy ebony chair inlaid with ivory, and attached by means of two ironbrackets to the floor.
"Even children learn from experience," continued the unforgettablevoice, alternately guttural and sibilant, but always as deliberate asthough the speaker were choosing with care words which should perfectlyclothe his thoughts. "For 'a burnt child fears the fire,' says yourEnglish adage. But Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith, who enjoys theconfidence of the India Office, and who is empowered to control themovements of the Criminal Investigation Department, learns nothingfrom experience. He is less than a child, since he has twice ras
hlyprecipitated himself into a chamber charged with an anesthetic prepared,by a process of my own, from the lycoperdon or Common Puff-ball."
I became fully master of my senses, and I became fully alive to astupendous fact. At last it was ended; we were utterly in the power ofDr. Fu-Manchu; our race was run.
I sat in a low vaulted room. The roof was of ancient brickwork, but thewalls were draped with exquisite Chinese fabric having a green groundwhereon was a design representing a grotesque procession of whitepeacocks. A green carpet covered the floor, and the whole of thefurniture was of the same material as the chair to which I was strapped,viz:--ebony inlaid with ivory. This furniture was scanty. There was aheavy table in one corner of the dungeonesque place, on which were anumber of books and papers. Before this table was a high-backed, heavilycarven chair. A smaller table stood upon the right of the only visibleopening, a low door partially draped with bead work curtains, abovewhich hung a silver lamp. On this smaller table, a stick of incense, ina silver holder, sent up a pencil of vapor into the air, and thechamber was loaded with the sickly sweet fumes. A faint haze from theincense-stick hovered up under the roof.
In the high-backed chair sat Dr. Fu-Manchu, wearing a green robe uponwhich was embroidered a design, the subject of which at first glancewas not perceptible, but which presently I made out to be a huge whitepeacock. He wore a little cap perched upon the dome of his amazingskull, and with one clawish hand resting upon the ebony of the table, hesat slightly turned toward me, his emotionless face a mask of incredibleevil. In spite of, or because of, the high intellect written upon it,the face of Dr. Fu-Manchu was more utterly repellent than any I haveever known, and the green eyes, eyes green as those of a cat in thedarkness, which sometimes burned like witch lamps, and sometimes werehorribly filmed like nothing human or imaginable, might have mirrorednot a soul, but an emanation of hell, incarnate in this gaunt,high-shouldered body.
Stretched flat upon the floor lay Nayland Smith, partially stripped, hisarms thrown back over his head and his wrists chained to a stout ironstaple attached to the wall; he was fully conscious and staring intentlyat the Chinese doctor. His bare ankles also were manacled, and fixed toa second chain, which quivered tautly across the green carpet and passedout through the doorway, being attached to something beyond the curtain,and invisible to me from where I sat.
Fu-Manchu was now silent. I could hear Smith's heavy breathing and hearmy watch ticking in my pocket. I suddenly realized that although mybody was lashed to the ebony chair, my hands and arms were free. Next,looking dazedly about me, my attention was drawn to a heavy sword whichstood hilt upward against the wall within reach of my hand. It was amagnificent piece, of Japanese workmanship; a long, curved Damascenedblade having a double-handed hilt of steel, inlaid with gold, andresembling fine Kuft work. A host of possibilities swept through mymind. Then I perceived that the sword was attached to the wall by a thinsteel chain some five feet in length.
"Even if you had the dexterity of a Mexican knife-thrower," came theguttural voice of Fu-Manchu, "you would be unable to reach me, dear Dr.Petrie."
The Chinaman had read my thoughts.
Smith turned his eyes upon me momentarily, only to look away again inthe direction of Fu-Manchu. My friend's face was slightly pale beneaththe tan, and his jaw muscles stood out with unusual prominence. By thisfact alone did he reveal his knowledge that he lay at the mercy ofthis enemy of the white race, of this inhuman being who himself knewno mercy, of this man whose very genius was inspired by the cool,calculated cruelty of his race, of that race which to this day disposesof hundreds, nay! thousands, of its unwanted girl-children by the simplemeasure of throwing them down a well specially dedicated to the purpose.
"The weapon near your hand," continued the Chinaman, imperturbably, "isa product of the civilization of our near neighbors, the Japanese, arace to whose courage I prostrate myself in meekness. It is the swordof a samurai, Dr. Petrie. It is of very great age, and was, until anunfortunate misunderstanding with myself led to the extinction of thefamily, a treasured possession of a noble Japanese house..."
The soft voice, into which an occasional sibilance crept, but whichnever rose above a cool monotone, gradually was lashing me into fury,and I could see the muscles moving in Smith's jaws as he convulsivelyclenched his teeth; whereby I knew that, impotent, he burned with a rageat least as great as mine. But I did not speak, and did not move.
"The ancient tradition of seppuku," continued the Chinaman, "orhara-kiri, still rules, as you know, in the great families of Japan.There is a sacred ritual, and the samurai who dedicates himself to thishonorable end, must follow strictly the ritual. As a physician, theexact nature of the ceremony might possibly interest you, Dr. Petrie,but a technical account of the two incisions which the sacrificantemploys in his self-dismissal, might, on the other hand, bore Mr.Nayland Smith. Therefore I will merely enlighten you upon one littlepoint, a minor one, but interesting to the student of human nature.In short, even a samurai--and no braver race has ever honored theworld--sometimes hesitates to complete the operation. The weapon near toyour hand, my dear Dr. Petrie, is known as the Friend's Sword. On suchoccasions as we are discussing, a trusty friend is given the post--anhonored one of standing behind the brave man who offers himself to hisgods, and should the latter's courage momentarily fail him, the friendwith the trusty blade (to which now I especially direct your attention)diverts the hierophant's mind from his digression, and rectifies histemporary breach of etiquette by severing the cervical vertebrae of thespinal column with the friendly blade--which you can reach quite easily,Dr. Petrie, if you care to extend your hand."
Some dim perceptions of the truth was beginning to creep into my mind.When I say a perception of the truth, I mean rather of some part of thepurpose of Dr. Fu-Manchu; of the whole horrible truth, of the schemewhich had been conceived by that mighty, evil man, I had no glimmering,but I foresaw that a frightful ordeal was before us both.
"That I hold you in high esteem," continued Fu-Manchu, "is a fact whichmust be apparent to you by this time, but in regard to your companion, Ientertain very different sentiments...."
Always underlying the deliberate calm of the speaker, sometimesshowing itself in an unusually deep guttural, sometimes in an unusuallyserpentine sibilance, lurked the frenzy of hatred which in the past hadrevealed itself occasionally in wild outbursts. Momentarily I expectedsuch an outburst now, but it did not come.
"One quality possessed by Mr. Nayland Smith," resumed the Chinaman, "Iadmire; I refer to his courage. I would wish that so courageous a manshould seek his own end, should voluntarily efface himself from the pathof that world-movement which he is powerless to check. In short, I wouldhave him show himself a samurai. Always his friend, you shall remain soto the end, Dr. Petrie. I have arranged for this."
He struck lightly a little silver gong, dependent from the corner ofthe table, whereupon, from the curtained doorway, there entered a short,thickly built Burman whom I recognized for a dacoit. He wore a shoddyblue suit, which had been made for a much larger man; but these thingsclaimed little of my attention, which automatically was directed to theload beneath which the Burman labored.
Upon his back he carried a sort of wire box rather less than six feetlong, some two feet high, and about two feet wide. In short, it was astout framework covered with fine wire-netting on the top, sidesand ends, but being open at the bottom. It seemed to be made in fivesections or to contain four sliding partitions which could be raised orlowered at will. These were of wood, and in the bottom of each was cuta little arch. The arches in the four partitions varied in size, so thatwhereas the first was not more than five inches high, the fourth openedalmost to the wire roof of the box or cage; and a fifth, which wasbut little higher than the first, was cut in the actual end of thecontrivance.
So intent was I upon this device, the purpose of which I was whollyunable to divine, that I directed the whole of my attention upon it.Then, as the Burman paused in the doorway, resting a corner of the cageupon t
he brilliant carpet, I glanced toward Fu-Manchu. He was watchingNayland Smith, and revealing his irregular yellow teeth--the teeth of anopium smoker--in the awful mirthless smile which I knew.
"God!" whispered Smith--"the Six Gates!"
"The knowledge of my beautiful country serves you well," repliedFu-Manchu gently.
Instantly I looked to my friend... and every drop of blood seemed torecede from my heart, leaving it cold in my breast. If I did not knowthe purpose of the cage, obviously Smith knew it all too well. Hispallor had grown more marked, and although his gray eyes stareddefiantly at the Chinaman, I, who knew him, could read a deathly horrorin their depths.
The dacoit, in obedience to a guttural order from Dr. Fu-Manchu, placedthe cage upon the carpet, completely covering Smith's body, but leavinghis neck and head exposed. The seared and pock-marked face set in a sortof placid leer, the dacoit adjusted the sliding partitions to Smith'srecumbent form, and I saw the purpose of the graduated arches. Theywere intended to divide a human body in just such fashion, and, as Irealized, were most cunningly shaped to that end. The whole of Smith'sbody lay now in the wire cage, each of the five compartments whereof wasshut off from its neighbor.
The Burman stepped back and stood waiting in the doorway. Dr. Fu-Manchu,removing his gaze from the face of my friend, directed it now upon me.
"Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith shall have the honor of acting ashierophant, admitting himself to the Mysteries," said Fu-Manchu softly,"and you, Dr. Petrie, shall be the Friend."