deadly.”
“Their bite is certainly deadly!” rapped Nayland Smith. “An attack by two or more evidently results in death within three minutes—also a characteristic vivid scarlet rash. You knew, now, what was in the cardboard box which James Richet opened in the taxi-cab! No doubt he had orders to open it at the moment that he reached the hotel. One of the Doctor’s jests. I take it they are tropical?”
“Beyond doubt.”
“Once exposed to the frosty air, and their deadly work done, they would die. You know, now, why I provided myself with that”—he pointed to the syringe. “I have met other servants of Fu-Manchu to whom a stone-faced building was a grand staircase.”
“Good God!” Mark Hepburn said hoarsely. “This man is a fiend—a sadistic madman—”
“Or a genius, Hepburn! If you will glance at the receptacle which our late visitor deposited on my pillow, you will notice that it is made from a common cigar box. One side lifts shutterwise: there is a small spring. It was controlled, you see, by this length of fine twine, one end of which still rests on the window ledge. This hook on top was intended to enable the Doctor’s servant to lift it into the room on the end of the telescopic rod. The box is lightly lined with hay. You may safely examine it. I have satisfied myself that there is nothing alive inside…”
“This man is the most awful creature who has ever appeared in American history,” said Hepburn. “The situation was tough enough, anyway. Where does he get these horrors? He must have agents all over the world.”
Nayland Smith began to walk up and down, twitching at the lobe of his ear.
“Undoubtedly he has. In my experience I have never felt called upon to step more warily. Also, I begin to think that my powers are failing me.”
‘“What do you mean?”
“For years, Hepburn, for many years, a palpable fact has escaped me. There is a certain very old Chinaman whose records I have come across in all parts of the world; in London, in Liverpool, in Shanghai, in Port Said, Rangoon and Calcutta. Only now, when he is in New York (and God knows how he got here!), have I realized that this dirty old bar-keeper is Dr. Fu-Manchu’s chief of staff!”
Mark Hepburn stared hard at the speaker, and then:
“This accounts for all the men at work in Chinatown,” he said slowly. “The man you mean is Sam Pak?”
“Sam Pak—none other,” snapped Nayland Smith. “And the truth respecting this ancient reprobate”—he indicated the writing-table—“reached me in its entirety only a few hours ago. If you could see him you would understand my amazement. He is incredibly old, and—so much for my knowledge of the East—I had always set him down as one step above the mendicant class. Yet, in the days of the empress, he was governor of a great province; in fact, he was Dr. Fu-Manchu’s political senior! He was one of the first Chinamen to graduate at Cambridge, and he holds a science degree of Heidelberg.”
“Yet in your knowledge of him he has worked in slums in Chinatown—been a bar-keeper?”
“It might occur in Russia tomorrow, Hepburn. There are princes, grand dukes—I am not speaking of gigolos or soi-disant noblemen—spread about the world who, the right man giving the word, would work as scavengers, if called upon, to restore the Tsars.”
“That’s true enough.”
“And so, you see, we have got to find this aged Chinaman. I suspect that he has brought with him an arsenal of these unpleasant weapons which the Doctor employs so successfully—Hullo! there’s the phone. We are wanted to identify the climber…”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SCARLET BRIDES (CONCLUDED)
O ld Sam Pak was performing his nightly rounds of Base 3. Two Chinese boys were in attendance.
Up above, political warfare raged; the newspapers gave prominence to the Washington situation in preference to love, murder, or divorce. Dr. Orwin Prescott was reported to be “resting up before the battle.”
“Their bite is certainly deadly!” rapped Nayland Smith. “An attack by two or more evidently results in death within three minutes—also a characteristic vivid scarlet rash. You knew, now, what was in the cardboard box which James Richet opened in the taxi-cab! No doubt he had orders to open it at the moment that he reached the hotel. One of the Doctor’s jests. I take it they are tropical?”
“Beyond doubt.”
“Once exposed to the frosty air, and their deadly work done, they would die. You know, now, why I provided myself with that”—he pointed to the syringe. “I have met other servants of Fu-Manchu to whom a stone-faced building was a grand staircase.”
“Good God!” Mark Hepburn said hoarsely. “This man is a fiend—a sadistic madman—”
“Or a genius, Hepburn! If you will glance at the receptacle which our late visitor deposited on my pillow, you will notice that it is made from a common cigar box. One side lifts shutterwise: there is a small spring. It was controlled, you see, by this length of fine twine, one end of which still rests on the window ledge. This hook on top was intended to enable the Doctor’s servant to lift it into the room on the end of the telescopic rod. The box is lightly lined with hay. You may safely examine it. I have satisfied myself that there is nothing alive inside…”
“This man is the most awful creature who has ever appeared in American history,” said Hepburn. “The situation was tough enough, anyway. Where does he get these horrors? He must have agents all over the world.”
Nayland Smith began to walk up and down, twitching at the lobe of his ear.
“Undoubtedly he has. In my experience I have never felt called upon to step more warily. Also, I begin to think that my powers are failing me.”
‘“What do you mean?”
“For years, Hepburn, for many years, a palpable fact has escaped me. There is a certain very old Chinaman whose records I have come across in all parts of the world; in London, in Liverpool, in Shanghai, in Port Said, Rangoon and Calcutta. Only now, when he is in New York (and God knows how he got here!), have I realized that this dirty old bar-keeper is Dr. Fu-Manchu’s chief of staff!”
Mark Hepburn stared hard at the speaker, and then:
“This accounts for all the men at work in Chinatown,” he said slowly. “The man you mean is Sam Pak?”
“Sam Pak—none other,” snapped Nayland Smith. “And the truth respecting this ancient reprobate”—he indicated the writing-table—“reached me in its entirety only a few hours ago. If you could see him you would understand my amazement. He is incredibly old, and—so much for my knowledge of the East—I had always set him down as one step above the mendicant class. Yet, in the days of the empress, he was governor of a great province; in fact, he was Dr. Fu-Manchu’s political senior! He was one of the first Chinamen to graduate at Cambridge, and he holds a science degree of Heidelberg.”
“Yet in your knowledge of him he has worked in slums in Chinatown—been a bar-keeper?”
“It might occur in Russia tomorrow, Hepburn. There are princes, grand dukes—I am not speaking of gigolos or soi-disant noblemen—spread about the world who, the right man giving the word, would work as scavengers, if called upon, to restore the Tsars.”
“That’s true enough.”
“And so, you see, we have got to find this aged Chinaman. I suspect that he has brought with him an arsenal of these unpleasant weapons which the Doctor employs so successfully—Hullo! there’s the phone. We are wanted to identify the climber…”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SCARLET BRIDES (CONCLUDED)
O ld Sam Pak was performing his nightly rounds of Base 3. Two Chinese boys were in attendance.
Up above, political warfare raged; the newspapers gave prominence to the Washington situation in preference to love, murder, or divorce. Dr. Orwin Prescott was reported to be “resting up before the battle.”
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