The Hand of Fu-Manchu

Smith grasped my outstretched, questing hand, grasped it firmly, warmly; and I saw his gray eyes to be dim in the light of the several lanterns around us.

'Am I alive?' he said. 'Dear old Petrie! Thanks to you, I am not only alive, but free!'

My head was buzzing like a hive of bees, but I managed, aided by Weymouth, to struggle to my feet. Muffled sounds of shouting and scuffling reached me. Two men in the uniform of the Thames Police were carrying a limp body in at the low doorway communicating with the infernal Joy-Shop.

'It's Fletcher,' said Weymouth, noting the anxiety expressed in my face. 'His missing lady friend has given him a nasty wound, but he'll pull round all right.'

'Thank God for that,' I replied, clutched my aching head. 'I don't know what weapon she employed in my case, but it narrowly missed achieving her purpose.'

My eyes, throughout, were turned upon Smith, for his presence there, still seemed to me miraculous.

'Smith,' I said, 'for Heaven's sake enlighten me! I never doubted that you were … '

'In the wooden chest!' concluded Smith grimly, 'Look!'

He pointed to something that lay behind me. I turned, and saw the box which had occasioned me such anguish. The top had been wrenched off and the contents exposed to view. It was filled with a variety of gold ornaments, cups, vases, silks, and barbaric brocaded raiment; it might well have contained the loot of a cathedral. Inspector Weymouth laughed gruffly at my surprise.

'What is it?' I asked, in a voice of amazement.

'It's the treasure of the Si-Fan, I presume,' rapped Smith. 'Where it has come from and where it was going to, it must be my immediate business to ascertain.'

'Then you … '

'I was lying, bound and gagged, upon one of the upper shelves in the opium-den! I heard you and Fletcher arrive. I saw you pass through later with that she-devil who drove the cab to-day … '

'Then the cab … '

'The windows were fastened, unopenable, and some anaesthetic was injected into the interior through a tube—that speaking-tube. I know nothing further, except that our plans must have leaked out in some mysterious fashion. Petrie, my suspicions point to high quarters. The Si-Fan score thus far, for unless the search now in progress brings it to light, we must conclude that they have the brass coffer.'

He was interrupted by a sudden loud crying of his name.

'Mr. Nayland Smith!' came from somewhere within the Joy-Shop. 'This way, sir!'

Off he went, in his quick, impetuous manner, whilst I stood there, none too steadily, wondering what discovery this outcry portended. I had not long to wait. Out by the low doorway come Smith, a grimly triumphant smile upon his face, carrying the missing brass coffer!

He set it down upon the planking before me.

'John Ki,' he said, 'who was also on the missing list, had dragged the thing out of the cellar where it was hidden, and in another minute must have slipped away with it. Detective Deacon saw the light shining through a crack in the floor. I shall never forget the look John gave us when we came upon him, as, lamp in hand, he bent over the precious chest.'

'Shall you open it now?'

'No.' He glanced at me oddly. 'I shall have it valued in the morning by Messrs. Meyerstein.'

He was keeping something back; I was sure of it.

'Smith,' I said suddenly, 'the man with the limp! I heard him in the place where you were confined! Did you … '

Nayland Smith clicked his teeth together sharply, looking straightly and grimly into my eyes.

'I saw him!' he replied slowly; 'and unless the effects of the anaesthetic had not wholly worn off … '

'Well!' I cried.

'The man with the limp is Dr. Fu-Manchu!'

Chapter 10 THE TULUN-NUR CHEST

'This box,' said Mr. Meyerstein, bending attentively over the carven brass coffer upon the table, 'is certainly of considerable value, and possibly almost unique.'

Nayland Smith glanced across at me with a slight smile. Mr. Meyerstein ran one fat finger tenderly across the heavily embossed figures, which, like barnacles, encrusted the sides and lid of the weird curio which we had summoned him to appraise.

'What do you think, Lewison?' he added, glancing over his shoulder at the clerk who accompanied him.

Lewison, whose flaxen hair and light blue eyes almost served to mask his Semitic origin, shrugged his shoulders in a fashion incongruous in one of his complexion, though characteristic in one of his name.

'It is as you say, Mr. Meyerstein, an example of early Tulun-Nur work,' he said. 'It may be sixteenth century or even earlier. The Kuren treasure-chest in the Hague Collection has points of similarity, but the workmanship of this specimen is infinitely finer.'

'In a word, gentlemen,' snapped Nayland Smith, rising from the arm-chair in which he had been sitting, and beginning restlessly to pace the room, 'in a word, you would be prepared to make me a substantial offer for this box?'

Mr. Meyerstein, his shrewd eyes twinkling behind the pebbles of his pince-nez, straightened himself slowly, turned in the ponderous manner of a fat man, and readjusted the pince-nez upon his nose. He cleared his throat.

'I have not yet seen the interior of the box, Mr. Smith,' he said.

Smith paused in his perambulation of the carpet and stared hard at the celebrated art dealer.

'Unfortunately,' he replied, 'the key is missing.'

'Ah!' cried the assistant, Lewison, excitedly, 'you are mistaken, sir! Coffers of this description and workmanship are nearly always complicated conjuring tricks; they rarely open by any such rational means as lock and key. For instance, the Kuren treasure-chest to which I referred, opens by an intricate process involving the pressing of certain knobs in the design, and the turning of others.'

'It was ultimately opened,' said Mr. Meyerstein, with a faint note of professional envy in his voice, 'by one of Christie's experts.'

'Does my memory mislead me,' I interrupted, 'or was it not regarding the possession of the chest to which you refer, that the celebrated case of 'Hague versus Jacobs' arose?'

'You are quite right, Dr. Petrie,' said Meyerstein, turning to me. 'The original owner, a member of the Younghusband Expedition, had been unable to open the chest. When opened at Christie's it proved to contain jewels and other valuables. It was a curious case, wasn't it, Lewison?' turning to his clerk.

'Very,' agreed the other absently; then—'Have you endeavored to open this box, Mr. Smith?'

Nayland Smith shook his head grimly.

'From its weight,' said Meyerstein, 'I am inclined to think that the contents might prove of interest. With your permission I will endeavor to open it.'

Nayland Smith, tugging reflectively at the lobe of his left ear, stood looking at the expert. Then—

'I do not care to attempt it at present,' he said.

Meyerstein and his clerk stared at the speaker in surprise.

'But you would be mad,' cried the former, 'if you accepted an offer for the box, whilst ignorant of the nature of its contents.'

'But I have invited no offer,' said Smith. 'I do not propose to sell.'

Meyerstein adjusted his pince-nez again.

'I am a business man,' he said, 'and I will make a business proposal: A hundred guineas for the box, cash down, and our commission to be ten per cent on the proceeds of the contents. You must remember,' raising a fat forefinger to check Smith, who was about to interrupt him, 'that it may be necessary to force the box in order to open it, thereby decreasing its market value and making it a bad bargain at a hundred guineas.'

Nayland Smith met my gaze across the room; again a slight smile crossed the lean, tanned face.