“We are very sorry to disturb you,” Tony began. “But—”
The Chinese woman’s expressionless features melted in a smile. “I am so glad to see you, Mr. Chi Foh! The doctor has been very anxious. Where is the dear young Miss?”
Tony assured her that the young Miss was very well, and they went in and up to their old quarters. Nayland Smith made a dash to the writing-desk in the living-room, took out the two radio equipments which they had left there. He strapped one to his wrist, adjusting the tiny dial.
“Calling the lama,” he said; and a moment later, “Nayland Smith here. Regret disturbing you so early . . . Good . . .Yes, back at your cousin’s house. Just one thing. It’s urgent. What is the call number of the instrument you got through to von Wehmer?” He grabbed a pencil from the desk; listened and scribbled. “Good! Now I can move. See you later.”
Tony had listened breathlessly. “These things are magic. Sir Denis!”
“Yes!” Nayland Smith smiled grimly. “We pinched the secret from Fu Manchu—and now it’s working in his own interests! For mercy’s sake get me a drink. There’s still something in the locker.
He found his pipe and pouch where he had left them, filled and lighted his old briar. Tony opened the closet which they used as a wine cellar.
“Beer or whiskey Sir Denis? Beer a trifle warm.”
“Beer. I’m thirsty.” He drank a glass of frothy, imported beer, then: “Now for von Wehmer,” he muttered.
Tony watched anxiously while Sir Denis twirled the tiny dial, the figures on which only a keen eye could distinguish. There was a nerve-racking interval . . . but no reply.
Nayland Smith’s lean face assumed an expression Tony had never seen there before. “He can’t surely have left already! “ Sir Denis muttered.
Even as he spoke, came a faint voice.
“Von Wehmer?” Tony whispered.
Nayland Smith nodded, signaled him to come nearer to listen.
“Nayland Smith here! Your delay worried me.”
“I keep my radio hidden.” Von Wehrner spoke English with a German accent. “I was engaged, and so—”
“Everything is ready, von Wehmer. When do you leave?”
“My Russian successor is due tomorrow.”
“Then we must act tonight!”
“I fear so. Is it possible?”
“Yes!” Nayland Smith rapped. “It has to be. How long will it take to make your arrangements?”
“I have already installed the necessary equipment in each of the buildings. No one can detect it. I have only to connect them with the power house and make contact and all will be over.”
“From the time you make contact, how long will you have to get clear?”
“It is a simple device which controls the contact. I can set it for no longer than thirty minutes. But this should be enough.”
“What time would suit you best? Give me as long as you can.” “Between fifteen minutes after midnight and one a.m. would be best.”
“Good enough. Have your radio handy. We must keep in constant touch. . . “
Tony stared at Nayland Smith. “Does this mean that after getting the manuscript from the Lama we are not going to rush it to Fu Manchu?”
Nayland Smith relighted his pipe, which had gone out.
“It seems unavoidable to me, if I’m to carry out my promise to von Wehmer.”
“But, Sir Denis!” Tony blazed, “what will become of Moon Flower and her father if things happen to go wrong?”
Nayland Smith smoked furiously. “That problem has been bothering me, McKay. But there’s a way out. We must drop off here tonight when we return from Niu-fo-Tu and leave the thing in your charge. I’ll go on to the research station and—”
“Stop! That’s plain nonsense. Sir Denis. I won’t do it!”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t,” Nayland Smith remarked dryly “There is another way: To leave the manuscript, packed and sealed, with our good friend the doctor. If we don’t claim it before daylight tomorrow, he must undertake to have it delivered at once to General Huan.”
Tony began to walk up and down in agitated thought, then: “I have another idea,” he said. “If you think it’s crazy, say so. We shall have to leave the Buick in some place well away from the germ plant. That’s clear. Neither of us knows the route there. The doctor has a car, and a driver who possibly does know the way—”
“I rather warm to your idea,” Nayland Smith rapped. “We take the manuscript with us? Having parked the car, we leave our driver with instructions to wait for us for an agreed time, and then to hurry back to the General’s house and deliver the package. This means delaying here until our host is awake and his chauffeur reports for duty.”
“I think it’s worth it. Sir Denis, on both counts.”
And, almost as he spoke, their host the doctor, whom they saw rarely, knocked on the door and came in. He wore a brown dressing robe over his pajamas, an attire which increased his resemblance to his cousin the Lama. Like his cousin, he spoke perfect English.
“How glad I am to see you. Sir Denis—and you. Captain McKay! Your absence began to disturb me.”
Nayland Smith apologized for arousing him so early, and then broached the subject of the driver for their midnight journey . . . “We should, of course, pay him handsomely for his services. He would be in no danger, and this will see the last of us; you can sleep in peace!”
“You may rest assured that Tung will be waiting for you. Sir Denis. He knows the road to Hua-Tzu perfectly. It is a difficult road at night. I formerly had a patient in that village . . .”
Half an hour later they were on their way to Niu-fo-Tu . . .
* * *
Nayland Smith knew this route well; so did Tony. They had traveled it recently with the Lama. They were stopped once only, at Jung. But their papers, issued by the governor of the province, produced polite bows and instant permission to proceed. Sir Denis drove the Buick as though competing in an overland race, and they reached Niu-fo-Tu in just under three hours.
He pulled up in sight of the gate.
“I have been thinking, McKay. Openly to visit the Lama might be dangerous—for the Lama. We still wear Chinese dress. But our visit, coming in an automobile, might reach the ears of Fu Manchu and result in inquiries. You know the way from here to the back entrance. Off you go! I’ll call him to expect you.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“Tinker with the engine until you come back!”
Tony grinned and set out at a steady trot for the path he remembered so well, the path on which he had found the abandoned Ford and been attacked in the dark by Nayland Smith who mistook him for an enemy. He found it easily enough and turned in
off the road.
The Ford had disappeared, as he had expected. He passed the spot, and a run of a few hundred yards brought him out in sight of that stretch of wasteland upon which the rear windows of the Lama’s house looked out. Although no one was in sight, he dropped to a walk as he crossed to the door. It was wide open, and he entered without hesitation and went on to the door of the Lama’s study. That also was open.
“Come in. Captain McKay.” Dr. Li Wu Chang, the Lama, stood up to greet him. “You are indeed welcome!”
“It’s good to see you again. Sir Denis has told you what I’ve come for?”
The Lama held up a sealed package. “Here is the cipher manuscript. And here”—he indicated a long envelope which lay before him—”is the result of many hours of labor I have held it deliberately until it was complete.”
“What is it?” Tony wanted to know.