The Hand of Fu-Manchu

'I can only reply, Mr. Meyerstein,' he said, 'in this way: if I desire to place the box on the market, you shall have first refusal, and the same applies to the contents, if any. For the moment if you will send me a note of your fee, I shall be obliged.' He raised his hand with a conclusive gesture. 'I am not prepared to discuss the question of sale any further at present, Mr. Meyerstein.'

At that the dealer bowed, took up his hat from the table, and prepared to depart. Lewison opened the door and stood aside.

'Good morning, gentlemen,' said Meyerstein.

As Lewison was about to follow him—

'Since you do not intend to open the box,' he said, turning, his hand upon the door knob, 'have you any idea of its contents?'

'None,' replied Smith; 'but with my present inadequate knowledge of its history, I do not care to open it.'

Lewison smiled skeptically.

'Probably you know best,' he said, bowed to us both, and retired.

When the door was closed—

'You see, Petrie,' said Smith, beginning to stuff tobacco into his briar, 'if we are ever short of funds, here's something'—pointing to the Tulun-Nur box upon the table—'which would retrieve our fallen fortunes.'

He uttered one of his rare, boyish laughs, and began to pace the carpet again, his gaze always set upon our strange treasure. What did it contain?

The manner in which it had come into our possession suggested that it might contain something of the utmost value to the Yellow group. For we knew the house of John Ki to be, if not the head-quarters, certainly a meeting-place of the mysterious organization the Si-Fan; we knew that Dr. Fu-Manchu used the place—Dr. Fu- Manchu, the uncanny being whose existence seemingly proved him immune from natural laws, a deathless incarnation of evil.

My gaze set upon the box, I wondered anew what strange, dark secrets it held; I wondered how many murders and crimes greater than murder blackened its history.

'Smith,' I said suddenly, 'now that the mystery of the absence of a key-hole is explained, I am sorely tempted to essay the task of opening the coffer. I think it might help us to a solution of the whole mystery.'

'And I think otherwise!' interrupted my friend grimly. 'In a word, Petrie, I look upon this box as a sort of hostage by means of which— who knows—we might one day buy our lives from the enemy. I have a sort of fancy, call it superstition if you will, that nothing—not even our miraculous good luck—could save us if once we ravished its secret.'

I stared at him amazedly; this was a new phase in his character.

'I am conscious of something almost like a spiritual unrest,' he continued. 'Formerly you were endowed with a capacity for divining the presence of Fu-Manchu or his agents. Some such second-sight would appear to have visited me now, and it directs me forcibly to avoid opening the box.'

His steps as he paced the floor grew more and more rapid. He relighted his pipe, which had gone out as usual, and tossed the match-end into the hearth.

'To-morrow,' he said, 'I shall lodge the coffer in a place of greater security. Come along, Petrie, Weymouth is expecting us at Scotland Yard.'

Chapter 11 IN THE FOG

'But, Smith,' I began, as my friend hurried me along the corridor, 'you are not going to leave the box unguarded?'

Nayland Smith tugged at my arm, and, glancing at him, I saw him frowningly shake his head. Utterly mystified, I nevertheless understood that for some reason he desired me to preserve silence for the present. Accordingly I said no more until the lift brought us down into the lobby and we had passed out from the New Louvre Hotel, crossed the busy thoroughfare and entered the buffet of an establishment not far distant. My friend having ordered cocktails—

'And now perhaps you will explain to me the reason for your mysterious behavior?' said I.

Smith, placing my glass before me, glanced about him to right and left, and having satisfied himself that his words could not be overheard—

'Petrie,' he whispered, 'I believe we are spied upon at the New Louvre.'

'What!'

'There are spies of the Si-Fan—of Fu-Manchu—amongst the hotel servants! We have good reason to believe that Dr. Fu-Manchu at one time was actually in the building, and we have been compelled to draw attention to the state of the electric fitting in our apartments, which enables any one in the corridor above to spy upon us.'

'Then why do you stay?'

'For a very good reason, Petrie, and the same that prompts me to retain the Tulun-Nur box in my own possession rather than to deposit it in the strong-room of my bank.'

'I begin to understand.'

'I trust you do, Petrie; it is fairly obvious. Probably the plan is a perilous one, but I hope, by laying myself open to attack, to apprehend the enemy—perhaps to make an important capture.'

Setting down my glass, I stared in silence at Smith.

'I will anticipate your remark,' he said, smiling dryly. 'I am aware that I am not entitled to expose you to these dangers. It is my duty and I must perform it as best I can; you, as a volunteer, are perfectly entitled to withdraw.'

As I continued silently to stare at him, his expression changed; the gray eyes grew less steely, and presently, clapping his hand upon my shoulder in his impulsive way—

'Petrie!' he cried, 'you know I had no intention of hurting your feelings, but in the circumstances it was impossible for me to say less.'

'You have said enough, Smith,' I replied shortly. 'I beg of you to say no more.'

He gripped my shoulder hard, then plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out the blackened pipe.

'We see it through together, then, though God knows whither it will lead us.'

'In the first place,' I interrupted, 'since you have left the chest unguarded——'

'I locked the door.'

'What is a mere lock where Fu-Manchu is concerned?'

Nayland Smith laughed almost gaily.

'Really, Petrie,' he cried, 'sometimes I cannot believe that you mean me to take you seriously. Inspector Weymouth has engaged the room immediately facing our door, and no one can enter or leave the suite unseen by him.'

'Inspector Weymouth?'

'Oh! for once he has stooped to a disguise: spectacles, and a muffler which covers his face right up to the tip of his nose. Add to this a prodigious overcoat and an asthmatic cough, and you have a picture of Mr. Jonathan Martin, the occupant of room No. 239.'

I could not repress a smile upon hearing this description.

'No. 239,' continued Smith, 'contains two beds, and Mr. Martin's friend will be joining him there this evening.'

Meeting my friend's questioning glance, I nodded comprehendingly.

'Then what part do I play?'

'Ostensibly we both leave town this evening,' he explained; 'but I have a scheme whereby you will be enabled to remain behind. We shall thus have one watcher inside and two out.'

'It seems almost absurd,' I said incredulously, 'to expect any member of the Yellow group to attempt anything in a huge hotel like the New Louvre, here in the heart of London!'

Nayland Smith, having lighted his pipe, stretched his arms and stared me straight in the face.

'Has Fu-Manchu never attempted outrage, murder, in the heart of London before?' he snapped.

The words were sufficient. Remembering black episodes of the past (one at least of them had occurred not a