LITMIR.BIZ

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open hand down on his knee.

      "That pigtail!" he cried. "I have left it behind! We must have it,

      Petrie! Stop! Stop!"

      The cab was pulled up, and Smith alighted.

      "Don't wait for me," he directed hurriedly. "Here, take Weymouth's

      card. Remember where he said the book was? It's all we want. Come

      straight on to Scotland Yard and meet me there."

      "But Smith," I protested, "a few minutes can make no difference!"

      "Can't it!" he snapped. "Do you suppose Fu-Manchu is going to leave

      evidence like that lying about? It's a thousand to one he has it

      already, but there is just a bare chance."

      It was a new aspect of the situation and one that afforded no room for

      comment; and so lost in thought did I become that the cab was outside

      the house for which I was bound ere I realized that we had quitted the

      purlieus of Wapping. Yet I had had leisure to review the whole troop

      of events which had crowded my life since the return of Nayland Smith

      from Burma. Mentally, I had looked again upon the dead Sir Crichton

      Davey, and with Smith had waited in the dark for the dreadful thing

      that had killed him. Now, with those remorseless memories jostling in

      my mind, I was entering the house of Fu-Manchu's last victim, and the

      shadow of that giant evil seemed to be upon it like a palpable cloud.

      Cadby's old landlady greeted me with a queer mixture of fear and

      embarrassment in her manner.

      "I am Dr. Petrie," I said, "and I regret that I bring bad news

      respecting Mr. Cadby."

      "Oh, sir!" she cried. "Don't tell me that anything has happened to

      him!" And divining something of the mission on which I was come, for

      such sad duty often falls to the lot of the medical man: "Oh, the poor,

      brave lad!"

      Indeed, I respected the dead man's memory more than ever from that

      hour, since the sorrow of the worthy old soul was quite pathetic, and

      spoke eloquently for the unhappy cause of it.

      "There was a terrible wailing at the back of the house last night,

      Doctor, and I heard it again to-night, a second before you knocked.

      Poor lad! It was the same when his mother died."

      At the moment I paid little attention to her words, for such beliefs

      are common, unfortunately; but when she was sufficiently composed I

      went on to explain what I thought necessary. And now the old lady's

      embarrassment took precedence of her sorrow, and presently the truth

      came out:

      "There's a--young lady--in his rooms, sir."

      I started. This might mean little or might mean much.

      "She came and waited for him last night, Doctor--from ten until

      half-past--and this morning again. She came the third time about an

      hour ago, and has been upstairs since."

      "Do you know her, Mrs. Dolan?"

      Mrs. Dolan grew embarrassed again.

      "Well, Doctor," she said, wiping her eyes the while, "I DO. And God

      knows he was a good lad, and I like a mother to him; but she is not the

      girl I should have liked a son of mine to take up with."

      At any other time, this would have been amusing; now, it might be

      serious. Mrs. Dolan's account of the wailing became suddenly

      significant, for perhaps it meant that one of Fu-Manchu's dacoit

      followers was watching the house, to give warning of any stranger's

      approach! Warning to whom? It was unlikely that I should forget the

      dark eyes of another of Fu-Manchu's servants. Was that lure of men

      even now in the house, completing her evil work?

      "I should never have allowed her in his rooms--" began Mrs. Dolan

      again. Then there was an interruption.

      A soft rustling reached my ears--intimately feminine. The girl was

      stealing down!

      I leaped out into the hall, and she turned and fled blindly before

      me--back up the stairs! Taking three steps at a time, I followed her,

      bounded into the room above almost at her heels, and stood with my back

      to the door.

      She cowered against the desk by the window, a slim figure in a clinging

      silk gown, which alone explained Mrs. Dolan's distrust. The gaslight

      was turned very low, and her hat shadowed her face, but could not hide

      its startling beauty, could not mar the brilliancy of the skin, nor dim

      the wonderful eyes of this modern Delilah. For it was she!

      "So I came in time," I said grimly, and turned the key in the lock.

      "Oh!" she panted at that, and stood facing me, leaning back with her

      jewel-laden hands clutching the desk edge.

      "Give me whatever you have removed from here," I said sternly, "and

      then prepare to accompany me."

      She took a step forward, her eyes wide with fear, her lips parted.

      "I have taken nothing," she said. Her breast was heaving tumultuously.

      "Oh, let me go! Please, let me go!" And impulsively she threw herself

      forward, pressing clasped hands against my shoulder and looking up into

      my face with passionate, pleading eyes.

      It is with some shame that I confess how her charm enveloped me like a

      magic cloud. Unfamiliar with the complex Oriental temperament, I had

      laughed at Nayland Smith when he had spoken of this girl's infatuation.

      "Love in the East," he had said, "is like the conjurer's mango-tree; it

      is born, grows and flowers at the touch of a hand." Now, in those

      pleading eyes I read confirmation of his words. Her clothes or her

      hair exhaled a faint perfume. Like all Fu-Manchu's servants, she was

      perfectly chosen for her peculiar duties. Her beauty was wholly

      intoxicating.

      But I thrust her away.

      "You have no claim to mercy," I said. "Do not count upon any. What

      have you taken from here?"

      She grasped the lapels of my coat.

      "I will tell you all I can--all I dare," she panted eagerly, fearfully.

      "I

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