Daughter of Fu-Manchu (9 page)

“No,” Petrie replied, bluntly, “I don’t.”

Nayland Smith stared at him for a while longer and then turned to me.

“How much do you know of the facts, Mr. Greville?” he snapped.

“I have heard something of the history of Dr. Fu-Manchu,” I replied, “if that’s what you mean! But Fu-Manchu is dead.”

“Possibly,” he agreed, and began to walk up and down again— “quite possibly. But”—he turned to the doctor—“you recognize his methods, Petrie?”

“Undoubtedly. So did poor Barton! By sheer luck, as you know, I had a spot of the antidote. But whilst it has worked the old miracle, there are complications in this case.”

“There are,” said Smith. And stepping to the writing table he began to load a large and very charred briar with coarse-cut mixture from a tin. “It may be that the stuff has lost some of its potency in years—who knows? But one thing is certain, Petrie. I address you also, Mr. Greville.”

He broke two matches in succession, so viciously did he attempt to strike them, but he succeeded with a third.

“All that fiendish armament is about to be loosed on the world again—perhaps reinforced, brought up to date… And that’s why I’m here.”

Neither Petrie nor I made any comment. Nayland Smith, his pipe fuming between his teeth, resumed that restless promenade; and:

“You must know all the facts, Greville,” he said rapidly. “Then we must form a plan of campaign. If only we can strike swiftly enough, the peril may be averted. It seems to be Fate, Petrie, but again I’m too late. Reports reached me from China, then from nearer home; from Cairo; from Moscow; from Paris and finally from London. Doubting everybody, I took personal action. And I definitely crossed swords with her for the first time at a popular supper restaurant in Coventry Street.”

“Crossed swords with whom?” Petrie demanded, voicing a question which I myself had been about to ask.

But Nayland Smith, ignoring Petrie’s question, continued to stride up and down, seemingly thinking aloud.

“New evidence respecting the sudden death of Professor Zeitland, the German Egyptologist, came to hand. I was satisfied that she was concerned. I sent Fletcher to interview her…

“She had disappeared. We lost track of her for more than a week. All inquiries drew blank; until, by a great strike of luck, the French police identified her at Marseilles. She had sailed for Egypt.

“Good enough for me! I set out at once with Fletcher! Perhaps I shall be better understood if I say that the chief commissioner
sent
me. Since our one and only meeting, further advices from China had opened my eyes to the truth.

“I arrived in Port Said two weeks ago today. I had nothing to go upon—no evidence to justify summary action; only one fact and a theory…”

His pipe went out. He paused to relight it.

“Do I understand, Sir Denis,” I said, “that you’re speaking of Madame Ingomar?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder.

“Madame Ingomar? Yes. That’s a nom-de-guerre. Her dossier is filed at Scotland Yard under the name of Fah Lo Suee. You’ll recognize her when you see her, Petrie!”

“What!”

“You met her once, some years ago. She was about seventeen in those days; she’s under thirty, now—and the most dangerous woman living.”

“But who is she?” cried Petrie.

Nayland Smith turned, a lighted match held between finger and thumb.

“Dr. Fu-Manchu’s daughter,”
he replied.

CHAPTER FIVE

“T
he trail led me from Cairo to Luxor,” said Nayland Smith.

“Information with which I was supplied from day to day clearly pointed to some attempt on Sir Lionel Barton.

“Professor Zeitland, I had learned, from facts brought to light after his sudden and mysterious death, had been studying the problem presented to Egyptologists by Lafleur’s Tomb, or the Tomb of the Black Ape. He had contemplated excavations. He deeply resented what he looked upon as Sir Lionel’s intrusion. Did you know this?”

He turned to me suddenly. His skin, as I now realized, had been artificially darkened. Looking out from that brown mask, his eyes were unnaturally piercing.

“Perfectly well.”

Superintendent Weymouth, whose unexpected meeting with Sir Denis had reduced him to an astounded silence, now spoke for the first time since he had entered the room.

“Probably some of the professor’s notes were stolen,” he said.

“They were!” rapped Nayland Smith: “which brings us to Barton. Are his notes intact?”

He shot the question at me with startling rapidity.

“He made few notes,” I replied. “He had a most astounding memory.”

“In short, his memory was his notebook! This explains much…”

He paused for a moment, and then:

“I immediately adopted the device which you know,” he went on. “Fletcher installed himself here, and I used these rooms as my base of operations. I had first to track Fah Lo Suee to her lair. I use the term advisedly, for she is the most dangerous beast of prey which this century has known.”

“I simply cannot understand,” cried Petrie, “why Sir Lionel never suspected this woman!”

Nayland Smith shook his head irritably.

“I think he did—but too late. However—naturally I distrusted everybody, but I decided to take Barton into my confidence. It was on that occasion, Greville, that we met for the first time. I bear you no ill will, but I could have strangled you cheerfully. Short of revealing my identity, I was helpless… and I decided to stick to my disguise…”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I was wrong. The enemy struck. Forthright action might have saved him. I must have failed to do even what little I did do, for all the odds were against me, were it not that that very night I made up my mind to try to get to Sir Lionel secretly whilst the camp was sleeping.

“In one of your workmen, Greville—Said by name—I recognized an old friend! Said was once my groom in Rangoon! I dug him out of his quarters at Kûrna and appointed him my liaison officer.

“Then, with Said in touch, I started. I had found one man I could trust…

“I reached Barton’s tent three minutes too late. He had just scrawled that last message—”

“What!” Weymouth interrupted excitedly. “You actually saw the message?”

“I read it,” Nayland Smith replied quietly. “Barton, awakened by the needle, miraculously realized what had happened. I am prepared to learn that he expected it… that, at last, he had begun to distrust ‘Madame Ingomar.’ It had just dropped from his hand as I entered.

“It was
my
voice, Greville, not his—that awakened you…”

Nayland Smith ceased speaking, and stepping up to the table, began to knock ash from the steaming bowl of his briar, whilst I watched him in a sort of stupefaction. Petrie and Weymouth were watching him too. Truly, here was a remarkable man.

“I slipped away as quietly as I had come. I watched for developments… then I set out for the head of the wâdi, where Said was watching. And Said had news for me. Someone had passed his hiding place ten minutes before—someone who slipped by rapidly. Said had not dared to follow. His orders were to wait… but I guessed that he had seen the agent of Fah Lo Suee who had entered Barton’s tent ahead of me, and who had done his appointed work…

“‘He was
Burmese,’
Said assured me, ‘and I saw the mark of
kâli
on his brow!’

“In a deep hollow, by the light of my torch, I wrote a message to Fletcher. Said set out for Luxor. I was taking no chances. The result of that message, Petrie, you know—you also, Weymouth. Fletcher despatched two telegrams.

“Then I returned, and from the slope above Sir Lionel’s tent, overheard the conference. I still distrusted everybody. As early as Lafleur’s time, a certain person was interested in the Tomb of the Black Ape. Of this I am confident. The nature of his interest it remains for us to find out. In the meantime, a member of the family of that great but evil man has penetrated to the Tomb—”

“Smith!” Petrie interrupted. “Some age-old secret—probably a ghastly weapon of destruction—has lain there, for thousands of years!”

Nayland Smith stared hard at the speaker; then:

“Right,” he snapped—“as regards the first part. Wrong as regards the second.”

Giving us no chance to ask him what he meant:

“My point of vantage regained,” he went on rapidly, “I saw all that took place. I saw the hut opened and two lanterns placed inside. I realized that it was proposed to carry Sir Lionel there. I saw the body placed in the hut, and the door locked. I could do no more—for Barton.”

“Since it seemed fairly certain that the objective of these mysterious crimes was the Tomb of the Black Ape, I now made my way round to the enclosure. The door was locked, but I managed to find a spot where I could climb up the fencing and look over. I stared down into the pit and listened intently. In that silence, any movement below must have been clearly audible. But I could not hear a sound.

“I was mystified—utterly mystified. I began to wonder if poor Barton had been mistaken in his own symptoms. I began to think he might really be dead! Perhaps the man whom Said had seen had had no connection with the matter. For I confess I could imagine no object in inducing that form of artificial catalepsy of which we know Dr. Fu-Manchu to have been a master.

“Crawling above the camp like a jackal, I taxed my brain to discover some line of action.

“None of you slept much that night, and I had to watch my steps. It was a nerve-racking business, especially as I suspected that a trained assassin was prowling about somewhere—and possibly covering my movements.

“Failure seemed to threaten me again. I had failed in London. I had failed here. But I was expecting the return of Said at any moment, now, and presently I heard our prearranged signal: the howling of a dog.

“He, at least, had done his job. I replied.

“Perhaps my imitation was a poor one. All I know is that you, Greville, and others, came out into, wâdi with lanterns, and began to search all about the camp.”

“We did,” I interrupted. “That howling was unnatural. Dogs never came as near to the camp at such an hour.”

“You found nothing,” Nayland Smith went on; “and when all was quiet again, I crept round and rejoined Said. He had more news. As he had pulled across from Luxor to Kûrna, and in sight of the landing place, a motor-boat had passed, heading
upstream.
Note that, Weymouth. Standing in the bows was the Burman whom Said had seen near Sir Lionel’s camp!

“This set me thinking. I came back here and turned up some recent reports. I discovered, Weymouth, that a certain Sheikh Ismail—who once slipped through our fingers in London—was living in the Oasis of Khârga. This venerable gentleman, for he must be well past eighty, I believe to be the present holder of the title of Sheikh al-Jébal, or head of the murderous sect of the
Hashishîn!”

“A member of the old group!” said Weymouth excitedly.

“Exactly! And an associate of Dr. Fu-Manchu! As a result, after a few hours’ rest, I started for Esna. And I spent a very profitable day there.”

“Esna!” I exclaimed. “Why Esna?”

“Because the old caravan road to the oasis starts from there, and because Esna is
upstream.
But whilst I was so employed, there’s little doubt, I think, that Fah Lo Suee and her party, operating from Lafleur’s Shaft, were completing the work begun by Barton…”

“Amazing,” I interrupted, “but fate, I suppose, that not a soul went down all day. The men, of course, were given a holiday.”

“I know,” Smith said. “Said was with
me.
However, I got back just before dusk and went straight to the camp to see how the land lay. Everything seemed to be quiet, and I was following the edge of the wâdi and had reached a point just above the hut in which Sir Lionel’s body lay, when I pulled up…

“It must have been inaudible from the tents. It came from directly below me—a soft, wailing cry. But I knew it! Good God, how well I knew it!…

“The call of a
Dacoit!

“Over these dangerous madmen, Greville, as well as the Thugs and the
Hashishîn,
the late Dr. Fu-Manchu had acquired a mysterious control. I dropped flat on the ground, wriggled to the edge and looked down. Nothing moved—the place was dark and silent. But I continued to watch and presently I saw a seeming miracle.

“The door of the hut was open! I clenched my fists and stared. It was as though the gate of a tomb had opened. I did not know
what
to expect. But what I saw was this:

“A thickset brown man, naked except for his loincloth, came out, bending double in the manner of a laden Eastern porter, and carrying on his shoulders the body of Sir Lionel Barton wrapped in a gray blanket!

“On the threshold, he laid him down. He locked the door with a key he carried, shouldered the body again, and set off up the wâdi… How had he got into the hut and where had he obtained the key?”

“Weymouth has solved that mystery,” Petrie interrupted. “The key was on Sir Lionel’s chain. He had only partially undressed on the previous night, and the Dacoit must have slipped in between the time that the hut was open and the time that Sir Lionel was carried there.”