The Hand of Fu-Manchu

I was almost entirely ignorant upon the subject when the cab pulled up before the surgeon's house in Half-Moon Street.

Here, where all else spoke of a city yet sleeping or but newly awakened, was wild unrest and excitement. Several servants were hovering about the hall eager to glean any scrap of information that might be obtainable; wide-eyed and curious, if not a little fearful. In the somber dining-room with its heavy oak furniture and gleaming silver, Sir Baldwin's secretary awaited us. He was a young man, fair-haired, clean-shaven and alert; but a real and ever-present anxiety could be read in his eyes.

'I am sorry,' he began, 'to have been the cause of disturbing you at so early an hour, particularly since this mysterious affair may prove to have no connection with the matters which I understand are at present engaging your attention.'

Nayland Smith raised his hand deprecatingly.

'We are prepared, Mr. Logan,' he replied, 'to travel to the uttermost ends of the earth at all times, if by doing so we can obtain even a meager clue to the enigma which baffles us.'

'I should not have disturbed Mr. Smith,' said Weymouth, 'if I had not been pretty sure that there was Chinese devilry at work here: nor should I have told you as much as I have, Mr. Logan,' he added, a humorous twinkle creeping into his blue eyes, 'if I had thought you could not be of use to us in unraveling our case!'

'I quite understand that,' said Logan, 'and now, since you have voted for the story first and refreshments afterward, let me tell you what little I know of the matter.'

'Be as brief as you can,' snapped Nayland Smith, starting up from the chair in which he had been seated and beginning restlessly to pace the floor before the open fireplace—'as brief as is consistent with clarity. We have learnt in the past that an hour or less sometimes means the difference between——'

He paused, glancing at Sir Baldwin's secretary.

'Between life and death,' he added.

Mr. Logan started perceptibly.

'You alarm me, Mr. Smith,' he declared; 'for I can conceive of no earthly manner in which this mysterious Eastern organization of which Inspector Weymouth speaks, could profit by the death of Sir Baldwin.'

Nayland Smith suddenly turned and stared grimly at the speaker.

'I call it death,' he said harshly, 'to be carried off to the interior of China, to be made a mere slave, having no will but the great and evil man who already—already, mark you!—has actually accomplished such things.'

'But Sir Baldwin——'

'Sir Baldwin Frazer,' snapped Smith, 'is the undisputed head of his particular branch of surgery. Dr. Fu- Manchu may have what he deems useful employment for such skill as his. But,' glancing at the clock, 'we are wasting time. Your story, Mr. Logan.'

'It was about half-past twelve last night,' began the secretary, closing his eyes as if he were concentrating his mind upon certain past events, 'when a woman came here and inquired for Sir Baldwin. The butler informed her that Sir Baldwin was entertaining friends and that he could receive no professional visitors until the morning. She was so insistent, however, absolutely declining to go away, that I was sent for—I have rooms in the house—and I came down to interview her in the library.'

'Be very accurate, Mr. Logan,' interrupted Smith, 'in your description of this visitor.'

'I shall do my best,' pursued Logan, closing his eyes again in concentrated thought. 'She wore evening dress, of a fantastic kind, markedly Oriental in character, and had large gold rings in her ears. A green embroidered shawl, with raised figures of white birds as a design, took the place of a cloak. It was certainly of Eastern workmanship, possibly Arab; and she wore it about her shoulders with one corner thrown over her head—again, something like a burnous. She was extremely dark, had jet-black, frizzy hair and very remarkable eyes, the finest of their type I have ever seen. She possessed beauty of a sort, of course, but without being exactly vulgar, it was what I may term ostentatious; and as I entered the library I found myself at a loss to define her exact place in society—you understand what I mean?'

We all nodded comprehendingly and awaited with intense interest the resumption of the story. Mr. Logan had vividly described the Eurasian Zarmi, the creature of Dr. Fu-Manchu.

'When the woman addressed me,' he continued, 'my surmise that she was some kind of half-caste, probably a Eurasian, was confirmed by her broken English. I shall not be misunderstood'—a slight embarrassment became perceptible in his manner—'if I say that the visitor quite openly tried to bewitch me; and since we are all human, you will perhaps condone my conduct when I add that she succeeded, in a measure, inasmuch as I consented to speak to Sir Baldwin, although he was actually playing bridge at the time.

'Either my eloquence, or, to put it bluntly, the extraordinary fee which the woman offered, resulted in Sir Baldwin's agreeing to abandon his friends and accompany the visitor in a cab which was waiting to see the patient.'

'And who was the patient?' rapped Smith.

'According to the woman's account, the patient was her mother, who had met with a street accident a week before. She gave the name of the consultant who had been called in, and who, she stated, had advised the opinion of Sir Baldwin. She represented that the matter was urgent, and that it might be necessary to perform an operation immediately in order to save the patient's life.'

'But surely,' I interrupted, in surprise, 'Sir Baldwin did not take his instruments?'

'He took his case with him—yes,' replied Logan; 'for he in turn yielded to the appeals of the visitor. The very last words that I heard him speak as he left the house were to assure her that no such operation could be undertaken at such short notice in that way.'

Logan paused, looking around at us a little wearily.

'And what aroused your suspicions?' said Smith.

'My suspicions were aroused at the very moment of Sir Baldwin's departure, for as I came out onto the steps with him I noticed a singular thing.'

'And that was?' snapped Smith.

'Directly Sir Baldwin had entered the cab the woman got out,' replied Logan with some excitement in his manner, 'and reclosing the door took her seat beside the driver of the vehicle—which immediately moved off.'

Nayland Smith glanced significantly at me.

'The cab trick again, Petrie!' he said; 'scarcely a doubt of it.' Then, to Logan: 'Anything else?'

'This,' replied the secretary: 'I thought, although I could not be sure, that the face of Sir Baldwin peered out of the window for a moment as the cab moved away from the house, and that there was strange expression upon it, almost a look of horror. But of course as there was no light in the cab and the only illumination was that from the open door, I could not be sure.'

'And now tell Mr. Smith,' said Weymouth, 'how you got confirmation of your fears.'

'I felt very uneasy in my mind,' continued Logan, 'for the whole thing was so irregular, and I could not rid my memory of the idea of Sir Baldwin's face looking out from the cab window. Therefore I rang up the consultant whose name our visitor had mentioned.'

'Yes?' cried Smith eagerly.

'He knew nothing whatever of the matter,' said Logan, 'and had no such case upon his books! That of course put me in a dreadful state of mind, but I was naturally anxious to avoid making a fool of myself and therefore I waited for some hours before mentioning my suspicions to any one. But when the morning came and no message was received I determined to communicate with Scotland Yard. The rest of the mystery it is for you, gentlemen, to unravel.'

Chapter 16 I TRACK ZARMI

'What does it mean?' said Nayland Smith wearily, looking at me through the haze of tobacco smoke which lay between us. 'A well-known man like Sir Baldwin Frazer is decoyed away—undoubtedly by the woman Zarmi; and up to the present moment not so much as a trace of him can be found. It is mortifying to think that with all the facilities of New Scotland Yard at our disposal we cannot trace that damnable cab! We cannot find the headquarters of the group—we cannot move! To sit here inactive whilst Sir Baldwin Frazer—God knows for what purpose!— is perhaps being smuggled out of the country, is maddening—maddening!' Then, glancing