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

shrubbery when she interrupted him in her fathers room. He and whomever he had with him doubtless slipped in during the daytime⁠—whilst Eltham was absent in London⁠—bringing the prepared cask and all necessary implements with them. They concealed themselves somewhere⁠—probably in the shrubbery⁠—and during the night made the cache. The excavated earth would be disposed of on the flowerbeds; the dummy bush they probably had ready. You see, the problem of getting in was never a big one. But owing to the ‘defenses’ it was impossible (whilst Eltham was in residence at any rate) to get out after dark. For Fu-Manchu’s purposes, then, a working-base inside Redmoat was essential. His servant⁠—for he needed assistance⁠—must have been in hiding somewhere outside; Heaven knows where! During the day they could come or go by the gates, as we have already noted.”

“You think it was the Doctor himself?”

“It seems possible. Who else has eyes like the eyes Miss Eltham saw from the window last night?”

Then remains to tell the nature of the outrage whereby Fu-Manchu had planned to prevent Eltham’s leaving England for China. This we learned from Denby. For Denby was not dead.

It was easy to divine that he had stumbled upon the fiendish visitor at the very entrance to his burrow; had been stunned (judging from the evidence, with a sandbag), and dragged down into the cache⁠—to which he must have lain in such dangerous proximity as to render detection of the dummy bush possible in removing him. The quickest expedient, then, had been to draw him beneath. When the search of the shrubbery was concluded, his body had been borne to the edge of the bushes and laid where we found it.

Why his life had been spared, I cannot conjecture, but provision had been made against his recovering consciousness and revealing the secret of the shrubbery. The ruse of releasing the mastiff alone had terminated the visit of the unbidden guest within Redmoat.

Denby made a very slow recovery; and, even when convalescent, consciously added not one fact to those we already had collated; his memory had completely deserted him!

This, in my opinion, as in those of the several specialists consulted, was due, not to the blow on the head, but to the presence, slightly below and to the right of the first cervical curve of the spine, of a minute puncture⁠—undoubtedly caused by a hypodermic syringe. Then, unconsciously, poor Denby furnished the last link in the chain; for undoubtedly, by means of this operation, Fu-Manchu had designed to efface from Eltham’s mind his plans of return to Ho-Nan.

The nature of the fluid which could produce such mental symptoms was a mystery⁠—a mystery which defied Western science: one of the many strange secrets of Dr. Fu-Manchu.

X

Since Nayland Smith’s return from Burma I had rarely taken up a paper without coming upon evidences of that seething which had cast up Dr. Fu-Manchu. Whether, hitherto, such items had escaped my attention or had seemed to demand no particular notice, or whether they now became increasingly numerous, I was unable to determine.

One evening, some little time after our sojourn in Norfolk, in glancing through a number of papers which I had brought in with me, I chanced upon no fewer than four items of news bearing more or less directly upon the grim business which engaged my friend and I.

No white man, I honestly believe, appreciates the unemotional cruelty of the Chinese. Throughout the time that Dr. Fu-Manchu remained in England, the press preserved a uniform silence upon the subject of his existence. This was due to Nayland Smith. But, as a result, I feel assured that my account of the Chinaman’s deeds will, in many quarters, meet with an incredulous reception.

I had been at work, earlier in the evening, upon the opening chapters of this chronicle, and I had realized how difficult it would be for my reader, amid secure and cozy surroundings, to credit any human being with a callous villainy great enough to conceive and to put into execution such a death pest as that directed against Sir Crichton Davey.

One would expect God’s worst man to shrink from employing⁠—against however vile an enemy⁠—such an instrument as the Zayat Kiss. So thinking, my eye was caught by the following:⁠—

“Express Correspondent

“New York.

“Secret service men of the United States Government are searching the South Sea Islands for a certain Hawaiian from the island of Maui, who, it is believed, has been selling poisonous scorpions to Chinese in Honolulu anxious to get rid of their children.

“Infanticide, by scorpion and otherwise, among the Chinese, has increased so terribly that the authorities have started a searching inquiry, which has led to the hunt for the scorpion dealer of Maui.

“Practically all the babies that die mysteriously are unwanted girls, and in nearly every case the parents promptly ascribe the death to the bite of a scorpion, and are ready to produce some more or less poisonous insect in support of the statement.

“The authorities have no doubt that infanticide by scorpion bite is a growing practice, and orders have been given to hunt down the scorpion dealer at any cost.”

Is it any matter for wonder that such a people had produced a Fu-Manchu? I pasted the cutting into a scrapbook, determined that, if I lived to publish my account of those days, I would quote it therein as casting a sidelight upon Chinese character.

A Reuter message to the Globe and a paragraph in the Star also furnished work for my scissors. Here were evidences of the deep-seated unrest, the secret turmoil, which manifested itself so far from its center as peaceful England in the person of the sinister Doctor.

“Hong Kong, Friday.

“Li Hon Hung, the Chinaman who fired at the Governor yesterday, was charged before the magistrate with shooting at him with intent to kill, which is equivalent to attempted murder. The prisoner, who was not defended, pleaded guilty. The Assistant Crown Solicitor, who prosecuted, asked for a remand until Monday, which was granted.

“Snapshots taken