Emperor Fu-Manchu (7 page)

“I’ll take the oar, Yueh Hua.”

“As you say, Chi Foh. But it is still dangerous.”

He took the sweep, and made Yueh Hua rest. She lay down, and almost immediately fell asleep like a child.

F
rom a guest house in the extensive and beautiful grounds of General Huan’s summer residence, Dr. Fu-Manchu, in the gray of dawn, watched the approach of two bearers with a stretcher along a winding flower-bordered path. A third man followed. The stretcher was occupied by a motionless figure covered from head to feet with a white sheet.

The young Japanese doctor who had followed, directed the men to a room where there was a rubber-covered couch and told them to lay the patient on it. This done, the bearers, who appeared to be shivering, went away.

The Japanese removed the sheet from the motionless body. The man on the stretcher was apparently dead. He might have been Burmese, but his normal complexion had become a sort of ghastly gray. The Japanese was feeling for his pulse when Dr. Fu-Manchu came in.

“Have you selected a specimen in good condition, Matsukata?”

Matsukata bowed. “Perfect, Excellency. A former dacoit from the Shan Hills who was drafted into the Cold Corps for insubordination. He can move as silently as a cat and climb better than any cat. He is one of three who escaped recently and reached the town, creating many undesirable rumors. I selected him for his qualities and have prepared him carefully as you see.”

Fu-Manchu examined the seemingly frozen body, using a stethoscope. He lifted an eyelid and peered into the fishlike eye. He nodded.

“You have prepared him well. This one will serve.” He stood upright. “You may return to the clinic.”

Matsukata bowed deeply and went out.

* * *

More than an hour after Yueh Hua had fallen asleep, Tony found a break in the bamboo wall bordering the creek. He had been hailed only twice from the other bank, and they were friendly hails to which he had replied cheerily. He had passed no other craft.

A narrow stream, little more than a brook, joined the creek, its surface choked with wild lilies. The bamboo jungle faded away inland. There was a sort of miniature bay. Further up he saw banyan and cypress trees.

This looked like the very place to hide the sampan until nightfall.

He swung in, tested the depth of the water and the strength of the lily stems, then pushed a way through. He found himself in a shaded pool, the water deep and crystal clear.

Yueh Hua woke up and prepared a meal which included the inevitable rice and tea. As he smoked a cigarette, Tony’s eyes began to close.

“Now
you
must rest awhile,” Yueh Hua insisted. “I will watch until you are ready to go on. There is an early moon tonight. It will help us to find the way.”

He fell fast asleep with her words faintly ringing in his ears.

He had no idea how long he slept, nor what wakened him. But he sat up with a start and looked around.

It was night. The moon hung like a great jewel over the bamboo jungle… and he couldn’t see Yueh Hua!

He got to his feet, listening, staring to right and left about the pool. He could see no one, hear nothing.

A sense of utter desolation crept over him. He was just going to call out her name. But he checked the cry in time. He crouched back under shelter of the plaited roof and stared, enthralled.

He had seen Yueh Hua.

She was swimming across the pool to a shallow bank on which they had cooked their dinner. Part of it was brightly and coldly lighted. The other part lay in shadow.

He saw her walk ashore and stand there, wringing water from her dark hair. Then she stretched her arms above her head and looked up at the sky as he had seen her do before. But that had been Yueh Hua, the river girl. This was Moon Flower, the goddess of night.

Her agility and grace he had noted. But he had never suspected that she had so slimly beautiful a body, such smooth, ivory skin and perfect limbs.

He almost ceased to breathe.

When Yueh Hua came back to the sampan after her bath, he pretended to be asleep, and let her wake him.

But the light touch of her hand affected him strangely…

On the way to Niu-fo-tu he tried to conquer the sense of awkward restraint which had come over him. He felt guilty. He rarely met Yueh Hua’s glance, for he was afraid she would read his secret in his eyes.

No river girl had a body like hers.

He rowed furiously, pushing the sampan ahead as if competing in a race.

The river, when he came to it, gleamed deserted in the moonlight. The current favored him, and he made good going. He passed a tied-up junk but there seemed to be nobody on board or on watch. He couldn’t see if Yueh Hua was asleep but she lay very still. A slight breeze rattled the junk’s sails, making a sound like dry palm fronds in a high wind.

“Chi Foh!”

She was awake.

“Yes, Yueh Hua?”

“We have to look out for lights. Then we have to cross to the other bank and find the creek which will take us behind Niu-fo-tu. We mustn’t miss it.”

“Are there soldiers there, Yueh Hua?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“A jail?”

“No.” She laughed that musical laugh. “Criminals have to be sent up to Chia-Ting.”

“And that, then, is where your father takes care of them?”

He rowed on. He knew Yueh Hua was watching him, and presently she said, “Were you angry with me for being such a liar?” she asked.

“Don’t be silly, Yueh Hua! I never admired you more.”

“Oh.”

He had said too much. Or said it the wrong way. She had spoken the “Oh” like a wondering sigh.

He decided on a policy of silence. And Yueh Hua didn’t speak again. The river swept round in a long, flattened curve. Tony faintly detected a twinkling light ahead.

“Is that Niu-fo-tu, Yueh Hua?”

“No.” She hesitated. “I think it must be another junk.”

So she had been awake all the time!

“I hope they are all asleep.”

“Let me row, Chi Foh. It is better. Don’t risk being seen.”

He wavered for a moment, then gave way and passed the oar over to her.

Navigation called for little but steering. The current carried them along. He crouched out of sight, watching Yueh Hua handle the long sweep with an easy grace he had never acquired. Beyond doubt, she had been born on the river.

She gave the junk as wide a berth as possible. If anybody was awake, it was someone who paid no attention. They passed unchallenged. Yueh Hua stayed at the oar, and Tony sat studying her, a silhouette against the moonlight, as she swayed rhythmically to and fro. They were silent for a long time, until she checked her rowing and stared ahead intently.

“Niu-fo-tu!” she said. “Somewhere here we turn off.”

* * *

General Huan personally conducted André Skobolov to the apartment in his country residence reserved for distinguished guests.

The Russian agent, a native of a Far Eastern province, had marked Mongolian features and spoke almost flawless Chinese. He had requested his host to invite no other guests to meet him as he wished to talk business and to avoid attention. He was traveling by unfrequented roads, he explained, since he had many contacts in out-of-the-way places.

He had been entertained in a manner which recalled the magnificence of pre-Communist days, a fact upon which he congratulated General Huan so warmly that that master of cunning knew that Skobolov suspected his loyalty to the present regime.

The “business” which Skobolov discussed introduced the names of so many members of the Order of the Si-Fan that the old strategist began to wonder if Skobolov might be an expert cryptographer who had already broken the cipher in which the Si-Fan Register was written. He had carefully inspected the visitor’s light baggage and had noted a large briefcase which Skobolov kept with him even during dinner. The Russian had apologized, explaining that it contained dispatches and must never be out of his sight.

General Huan bade André Skobolov good-night, regretting that some other method could not have been found to silence him, for he had a soldier’s respect for brave men.

Skobolov, when the door had closed, placed the briefcase under his pillow and once more, as he had already done on his arrival, checked every item of his baggage, locked the door, examined the window which opened on a balcony overlooking the beautiful gardens, and re-examined every compartment of a large and priceless lacquered cabinet which was set against one wall.

He did this so carefully, with the aid of a flashlamp, that Dr. Fu-Manchu, who was watching his every movement through a spyhole in a part of the cabinet which formed the back of a closet in an adjoining room, was compelled to close the aperture.

When Skobolov, who had dined and wined well, finally retired, the spacious double room became dark except for furtive moonbeams stealing through the windows.

There was a brief silence, presently broken by the snores of the sleeping man.

Fu-Manchu flashed a signal from the next room and returned to his observation post at the back of the closet.

He had watched and listened no longer than half a minute when the shadow of a man swept down past the moon-lighted window and temporarily vanished. A moment later, the shadow reappeared as the man outside stood slowly upright. He had dropped from the roof to the balcony, silent as a panther.

A nearly soundless manipulation, and the window opened. Although the night was warm, a draft of cold air penetrated the room, perceptible even at the spyhole.

The ghostly figure of the Cold Man became visible briefly in the moonlight. His body, as well as his face, had an unearthly gray tinge. He wore only a gray loincloth. His eyes were as lifeless as the eyes of a dead fish. He carried what looked like a small cage covered with gauze. Gliding nearer to the sleeping Skobolov, he removed the gauze.

A high, dim buzzing sound became audible in the suddenly chilly room.

The Cold Man, carrying the cage, crept back to the window, climbed out, and closed it. The keen ears of Dr. Fu-Manchu heard a dull thud far below. The Cold Man had dropped from the balcony to the garden where the Japanese, Matsukata, awaited him.

Dr. Fu-Manchu watched and listened.

The high-pitched droning ceased by degrees… and suddenly the sleeper awoke.

Then came a torrent of Russian curses, a sound of slapping… Skobolov was out of bed, the ray of his flashlamp shining now right, now left, now down below. With a slipper he began to kill flies, of which there seemed to be a number in the room, chasing them wherever that faint, high note led him.

When, at last, he had killed all he could find, shuddering coldly, he opened a bag and took out a tube of ointment which he began to rub onto his face, neck and arms.

* * *

Dr. Fu-Manchu closed the little trap, smiling his mirthless smile.

I
t was a long way up the creek to the canal behind Niu-fo-tu. And having found it, Tony had to go on for another mile or more before finding a suitable mooring where they might safely tie up. Dawn was very near by the time they made fast.

After a scant breakfast, he made Yueh Hua promise not to leave the boat until he returned. Reluctantly, she did so, and Tony set out.

He found a road lined with cypress trees which evidently led to the town. Already the sun was very hot. It promised to be a sweltering day. Soon he found himself in the shadow of one of several memorial arches which spanned the road outside the gate. Not without misgivings, for he was a marked man, he pressed on.

Entering the town, he saw the market place directly on his right, and the stalls of dealers who sold everything from sugar cane, water chestnuts, pork and pumpkins to clothing and millet whiskey.

As he turned in, expecting to get information here, a rickshaw coolie came out and nearly knocked him down.

A fat Chinese woman smoking a cigarette sat in the rickshaw. The wife of some sort of official, he judged.

“Why don’t you look where you’re going?” she snapped at him.

He lowered his head humbly, and passed on.

An old woman selling preserved duck stuck on long sticks and other Chinese hors d’oeuvres, gave him a toothless grin.