He paused.
“Now, I want to make it quite clear, Kerrigan: I have no evidence to show that Ardatha suspected she was being followed. The presence of the woman whom I found in that room may have been accidental, but as I looked in I saw her . . .”
“You saw whom?”
“The zombie!”
“Good God!”
“My theories regarding her identity were confirmed. I had been right. Failing the presence of Doctor Fu Manchu in the case, she could only be a spirit, a creature of another world. For myself, I had seen her consigned to a horrible death. But woman or spirit, I knew now that she had to be silenced. I sprang forward to seize her—”
“I know!” I groaned.
“At that moment, Kerrigan, my usefulness to the world ended.”
He stared down at the smoke arising from the tip of his cigarette.
“You say you recognized her. Who is she?”
“She is Doctor Fu Manchu’s daughter.”
“What!”
“Unchanged from the first moment I set eyes upon her. She is a living miracle, a corpse moving among the living. But—here we are! And frankly, I confess here we deserve to be!”
He paused for a moment as if listening—perhaps for that awe some moaning. But I could detect no sound save a faint drip-drip of water.
“Of course you realize, Smith,” I said in a dull voice, “that Rudolf Adion is in the hands of Doctor Fu Manchu?”
“I realize it fully. I may add that I doubt if he is alive.”
Why I should have felt so about one who was something of a storm centre in Europe I cannot say, but momentarily forgetting my own peril I was chilled by the thought that Rudolf Adion no longer lived, that the power which swayed a nation had ceased to be. We were silent for a long time, sitting there smoking and staring vacantly at each other. At last:
“As I see it,” said Nayland Smith, “we have just one chance.”
“What is that?”
“Ardatha!”
“Why do you think so?”
“Now that I know her Oriental origin, which all along I had suspected, I think if she learns that you are here she will try to save you.”
I shook my head.
“Even if you are right I doubt if she would have the power . . . and I am sorry to say that I believe her to be utterly evil.”
“Let us pray that she is not. She risked perhaps more than you understand to save you once before. If she fails to try again . . .”
That unendurable moaning arose, as if to tell us that Ardatha would fail—that all would fail.
* * *
I don’t know how long I had been sitting there in hopeless dejection when I heard a slow, soft footstep approaching. I glanced across at Nayland Smith. His face was set, expressionless.
A rattling of keys came, and the heavy door swung open. At the same moment a light set somewhere behind that squat pillar sprang up, and I saw as I had suspected a fully equipped torture chamber. Nocturnal insects rustled to cover.
Dr Fu Manchu came in . . .
He wore a plain yellow robe having long sleeves, and upon his feet I saw thick-soled slippers. His phenomenal skull was hidden by a mandarin’s cap, perhaps that which I had found in a hut on the Essex marshes.
I am unable to record my emotions at this moment, for I cannot recall that I had any. When on a previous occasion I had found myself in the power of the Chinese doctor, I had been fortified by the knowledge that Nayland Smith was free, that there was a chance of his coming to my aid. Now we were fellow captives. I was numbly resigned to whatever was to be.
Seated on Dr Fu Manchu’s left shoulder I saw a tiny, wizened marmoset. I thought that it peered at me inquisitively. Fu Manchu crossed nearly to the centre of the cell—he had a queer, catlike gait. There, standing midway between us, he looked long and searchingly, first at Nayland Smith and then at me. I tried to sustain the gaze of his half-closed eyes. I was mortified when I found that I could not do it.
“So you have decided to join me. Sir Denis?” He spoke softly and raising one hand caressed the marmoset. “At last the Si-Fan is to enjoy the benefit of your great ability.”
Nayland Smith said nothing. He watched and listened.
“Later I shall make arrangements for your transport to my temporary headquarters. I shall employ you to save civilization from the madmen who seek to ruin it.”
The meaning of these strange words was not entirely clear to me, but I noted, and drew my own conclusions, that Dr Fu Manchu seemed to have forgotten my presence.
“Tonight, a man who threatens the peace of the world will make a far-reaching decision. To me his life or death are matters of no importance, but I am determined that there shall be peace; the assumption of the West that older races can benefit by your ridiculous culture must be corrected. Your culture!”
His voice sank contemptuously on a guttural note.
“What has it done? What have your aeroplanes—those toys of a childish people—accomplished? Beyond bringing every man’s home into the firing line—nothing! Napoleon had no bombers, no high explosives, nor any other of your modern boons. He conquered a great part of Europe without them. Poor infants, who transfer your prayers from angels to aeroplanes!”
He ceased for a moment and the silence was uncanny. From my point of view in the low wooden chair, Dr Fu Manchu appeared abnormally tall. He possessed a physical repose which was terrifying, because in some way it made more manifest the volcanic activity of his brain. He was like a pylon supporting a blinding light.
The silence was broken by shrill chattering from the marmoset. With a tiny hand it patted the cheek of its master.
Dr Fu Manchu glanced aside at the wizened little creature.
“You have met my marmoset before. Sir Denis, and I think I have mentioned that he is of great age. I shall not tell you his age since you might be tempted to doubt my word, which I could not tolerate.” There was mockery in his voice. “My earliest experiments in arresting senility were carried out on my faithful Peko. As you see, they were successful.”
He removed the marmoset from his shoulder and couched it in a yellow fold covering his left arm. Nayland Smith’s face remained completely expressionless. I counted the paces between the chair in which I sat and the spot upon which Dr Fu Manchu stood.
He was just beyond my reach.
“You have genius. Sir Denis, but it is marred by a streak of that bulldog breed of which the British are so proud. In striving to bolster up the ridiculous pretensions of those who misdirect the West, you have inevitably found yourself opposed to me. Consider what it is that you would preserve, what contentment it has brought in its train. Look around at the happy homes of Europe and America, the laborers singing in your vineyards, the peace and prosperity which your ‘progress’ has showered on mankind.”
His voice rose. I detected a note of repressed but feverish excitement.
“But no matter. There will be ample time in future to direct your philosophy into more suitable channels. I will gratify your natural curiosity regarding my presence in the world, which continues even after my unpleasant experience at Niagara Falls . . .”
Nayland Smith’s hands closed tightly.
“You recovered the body of that brilliant maniac. Professor Morgenstahl, I understand, and also the wreckage of the motorboat. One of my most devoted servants was driving the boat. He was not killed as you supposed and his body lost. He was temporarily stunned in the struggle with Morgenstahl—whom I overcame, however. He recovered in time to deal with the emergency. He succeeded in running the boat against a rock near the head of a rapid. In this he was aided by a Very light contributed by an airman flying over us. This fellow of mine—a sea Dyak—is a magnificent surf swimmer. Carrying a line he swam from point to point and finally reached the Canadian shore.”