It was a square room having no visible opening except the one through which he had come in. The green draperies were carried around all four walls and up to the centre of the ceiling, so that the interior resembled a tent. Its sole furniture consisted of a shaded lamp suspended on a chain over a circular ebony table around which were placed seven ebony chairs. Before each of the chairs a disk with a number stood on the gleaming surface.
Five green-masked, green-robed figures arose as he entered. Nayland Smith clenched his teeth, trying to assure himself that he had not been drugged in some subtle way, that this was not delirium.
Five pairs of eyes stared from five masks as the deputies saluted him by swinging their right hand across so that it rested, palm outward, over the heart. No word was spoken. Reverberations of six gong strokes still haunted the air.
He returned the salute, and sat down in an ebony chair placed before a disk numbered six.
The five masked men resumed their seats in silence.
Was he accepted — or did this ominous and unnatural silence mean that they were waiting for him to carry out some part of the ritual not mentioned in poor Orson's hastily scribbled notes? Furtively, he glanced from mask to mask, trying to detect any signal one to another. No such communion was visible. These men were waiting — but for what? It was a nightmare. Temptation to exchange some word with his neighbours became nearly irresistible. His heart was beating over-fast. Perhaps he wasn't the man he had been. His mental reserves might be failing him. He fixed his gaze on the only vacant place at the circular table. It faced him almost directly.
And it was numbered One.
Nayland Smith reviewed the mumbo-jumbo practised by other secret societies of which he had knowledge, the Fascist and the Nazi ceremonies, hunting for some parallel. In fact, this silence was getting his nerves on edge.
Almost with relief, although it startled him, he heard a deep gong note. One!
The five masked men stood up, and Nayland Smith did the same. Light footsteps became audible beyond the green draperies. The curtain was swept aside and a masked woman entered the room.
Her entrance was a signal for the first human sound to disturb that ghostty company. A wordless murmur swept around the ebony table.
Ignoring it, the woman gave the Si-Fan salute, walking slowly to the vacant chair. The salute was returned. But a new silence had fallen. It was an uneasy silence.
She carried the green cloak on her arm, and now draped it over the back of her chair. Light from the hanging lamp gleamed on white shoulders as she took her seat. The men, imitated by Nayland Smith, slowly sat down. But many glances were exchanged across the table. Her face concealed by the grotesque mask, Fu Manchu's daughter looked like an incarnation of the goddess Ishtar.
Coolly, without hesitation, she began to speak in that bell-like voice which Nayland Smith remembered — bad good reason never to forget.
She greeted the deputies briefly, in French, English, German and Arabic. Unmistakably the French greeting was addressed to him. His deduction, from certain evidence, that Selwyn Or-son had posed as a Frenchman had apparently been correct Greetings over, she continued in English.
"You were expecting the President, my father. This I know, for he has appointed me to act for him in his unavoidable absence. As I am a stranger to all present tonight, he gave me his sealed authority to represent him." She shrugged nonchalantly. "It was stolen from my cabin on the ship by a dangerously clever agent who evidently knows far too much about the SiFan for our safety."
Number Five, who sat next to Nayland Smith, speaking English with a German accent, said that it was well known they had a clever agent somewhere amongst them; for top secrets had already leaked out.
There was a loud murmur of agreement. Unfriendly eyes became focussed on the woman; but:
"A great decision has to be made tonight," she went on coolly. "You are aware that we have brought pressure to bear upon Washington in an effort to induce the United States Government to give support to our president's plan to drive Communism out of the East."
No one spoke. Six pairs of eyes watched her.
"It was decided to implement words by action. Washington was notified that unless our friendly intentions were recognised and our proposals considered, a small demonstration of the powers at our disposal would be made: the gold in one of the vaults at Fort Knox would be destroyed."
"This," (it was the guttural voice again) "is knowledge common to ourselves and also to the United States authorities. I have a question to put… "
There were assenting murmurs.
"Later, if you please." Through the openings in her mask Smith could see those blazing jade-green eyes. "I have more to say."
The musical, imperious voice reduced the meeting to silence.
"What is not common knowledge — a fact known only to a few of us and to a few United States officials — is that the threat was carried out. No one knows, but I am authorised to tell you, how it was done."
Nayland Smith almost literally held his breath. A mystery which had defied scientists and expert investigators, himself among them, was about to be unveiled. Furthermore, he was fascinated, wholly enthralled, by the magnetic personality of this woman, her power to dominate desperate men who doubted her identity, who knew that life or liberty might be the forfeit of accepting an imposter.
"My father," she continued quietly, "has always known that the old alchemists were wrong only in one vital particular. Whilst it is impracticable to transmute base metal to gold, it is practicable to transmute gold to base metal. For many years he carried out experiments with a Runsen beam. The Riinsen beam, as you may be aware, is a kind of super X-ray."
And now — it seemed, against their better judgement — the five men were listening intently as Nayland Smith listened.
"It has the property of penetrating nearly everything, even steel or concrete. It is invisible. But gold resists the beam, which cannot penetrate it. Dr Fu Manchu succeeded in amplifying the Riinsen process, producing a Riinsen Beam II. Gold still resisted it, but, to speak unscientifically, died in the attempt."
"Explain further, if you please."
The request came from Number Two. Nayland Smith had already noted his slim, Arab hands.
"But certainly. The effect is to disturb what my father described as the 'atomic poise* of gold, and to break it down (I quote him again) 'to its primeval elements'."
"But how," (the guttural once more) "was this beam operated upon Fort Knox?"
White shoulders dimpled in a shrug.
"It was not operated upon Fort Knox. A consignment of gold, worth twenty-four million dollars and meant to be stored there, was dealt with on the high seas. A plane circled low over the ship and a Riinsen Beam II was directed upon the bullion-room in which the gold was packed. The sealed cases were never opened until Washington was advised by the president of our council to examine their contents."
Excitement became vibrant, but no word was uttered until a third voice, speaking cultured English (Nayland Smith identified Number Three), asked:
"Assuming, Madame, without prejudice, that what you tell us is true, how are we to proceed, if Washington remains obstinate, to any further demonstration of what you termed *the powers at our disposal'?"
Without hesitation, the bell voice replied:
"Quite simply."
Nayland Smith clenched his teeth, glancing swiftly right and left. A pad and pencil were placed before each delegate, and one of them (number Seven) had already made several notes. Smith's Germanic neighbour seemed to have brought notes with him. A large wallet lay at his elbow and he was fingering a card on which appeared a mass of neat writing.
But, as the silvery voice paused, and jade-green eyes searched each mask in turn, no one spoke.