The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, Sax Rohmer [knowledgeable books to read TXT] 📗

What does it all mean? Vernon has been explaining to me that some awful Chinaman is seeking the life of Mr. Nayland Smith. But if the same man wants to kill my father, why has he not done so?”

“I am afraid you puzzle me.”

“Of course, I must do so. But⁠—the man in the train. He could have killed us both quite easily! And⁠—last night someone was in father’s room.”

“In his room!”

“I could not sleep, and I heard something moving. My room is the next one. I knocked on the wall and woke father. There was nothing; so I said it was the howling of the dog that had frightened me.”

“How could anyone get into his room?”

“I cannot imagine. But I am not sure it was a man.”

“Miss Eltham, you alarm me. What do you suspect?”

“You must think me hysterical and silly, but whilst father and I have been away from Redmoat perhaps the usual precautions have been neglected. Is there any creature, any large creature, which could climb up the wall to the window? Do you know of anything with a long, thin body?”

For a moment I offered no reply, studying the girl’s pretty face, her eager, blue-gray eyes widely opened and fixed upon mine. She was not of the neurotic type, with her clear complexion and sun-kissed neck; her arms, healthily toned by exposure to the country airs, were rounded and firm, and she had the agile shape of a young Diana with none of the anaemic languor which breeds morbid dreams. She was frightened; yes, who would not have been? But the mere idea of this thing which she believed to be in Redmoat, without the apparition of the green eyes, must have prostrated a victim of “nerves.”

“Have you seen such a creature, Miss Eltham?”

She hesitated again, glancing down and pressing her fingertips together.

“As father awoke and called out to know why I knocked, I glanced from my window. The moonlight threw half the lawn into shadow, and just disappearing in this shadow was something⁠—something of a brown color, marked with sections!”

“What size and shape?”

“It moved so quickly I could form no idea of its shape; but I saw quite six feet of it flash across the grass!”

“Did you hear anything?”

“A swishing sound in the shrubbery, then nothing more.”

She met my eyes expectantly. Her confidence in my powers of understanding and sympathy was gratifying, though I knew that I but occupied the position of a father-confessor.

“Have you any idea,” I said, “how it came about that you awoke in the train yesterday whilst your father did not?”

“We had coffee at a refreshment-room; it must have been drugged in some way. I scarcely tasted mine, the flavor was so awful; but father is an old traveler and drank the whole of his cupful!”

Mr. Eltham’s voice called from below.

“Dr. Petrie,” said the girl quickly, “what do you think they want to do to him?”

“Ah!” I replied, “I wish I knew that.”

“Will you think over what I have told you? For I do assure you there is something here in Redmoat⁠—something that comes and goes in spite of father’s ‘fortifications’? Caesar knows there is. Listen to him. He drags at his chain so that I wonder he does not break it.”

As we passed downstairs the howling of the mastiff sounded eerily through the house, as did the clank-clank of the tightening chain as he threw the weight of his big body upon it.

I sat in Smith’s room that night for some time, he pacing the floor smoking and talking.

“Eltham has influential Chinese friends,” he said; “but they dare not have him in Nan-Yang at present. He knows the country as he knows Norfolk; he would see things!

“His precautions here have baffled the enemy, I think. The attempt in the train points to an anxiety to waste no opportunity. But whilst Eltham was absent (he was getting his outfit in London, by the way) they have been fixing some second string to their fiddle here. In case no opportunity offered before he returned, they provided for getting at him here!”

“But how, Smith?”

“That’s the mystery. But the dead dog in the shrubbery is significant.”

“Do you think some emissary of Fu-Manchu is actually inside the moat?”

“It’s impossible, Petrie. You are thinking of secret passages, and so forth. There are none. Eltham has measured up every foot of the place. There isn’t a rathole left unaccounted for; and as for a tunnel under the moat, the house stands on a solid mass of Roman masonry, a former camp of Hadrian’s time. I have seen a very old plan of the Round Moat Priory as it was called. There is no entrance and no exit save by the steps. So how was the dog killed?”

I knocked out my pipe on a bar of the grate.

“We are in the thick of it here,” I said.

“We are always in the thick of it,” replied Smith. “Our danger is no greater in Norfolk than in London. But what do they want to do? That man in the train with the case of instruments⁠—what instruments? Then the apparition of the green eyes tonight. Can they have been the eyes of Fu-Manchu? Is some peculiarly unique outrage contemplated⁠—something calling for the presence of the master?”

“He may have to prevent Eltham’s leaving England without killing him.”

“Quite so. He probably has instructions to be merciful. But God help the victim of Chinese mercy!”

I went to my own room then. But I did not even undress, refilling my pipe and seating myself at the open window. Having looked upon the awful Chinese doctor, the memory of his face, with its filmed green eyes, could never leave me. The idea that he might be near at that moment was a poor narcotic.

The howling and baying of the mastiff was almost continuous.

When all else in Redmoat was still the dog’s mournful note yet rose on the night with something menacing in it. I sat looking out across the sloping turf to where the shrubbery showed as a black island