certain Dr. Fu-Manchu for his own ends, and, since he was (I admit it) a high official, a schism has been created in our ranks. Exactly a month ago, sentence of death was passed upon him by the Sublime Prince, and since I myself must return immediately to China, I look to Mr. Nayland Smith to carry out that sentence.'
I said nothing; I remained bereft of the power of speech.
'The Si-Fan,' he added, repeating the gesture with his hand, 'disown Dr. Fu-Manchu and his servants; do with them what you will. In this envelope'—he held up a sealed package—'is information which should prove helpful to Mr. Smith. I have now a request to make. You were conveyed here in the garments which your wore at the time that my servants called upon you.' (I was hatless and wore red leathern slippers.) 'An overcoat and a hat can doubtless be found to suit you, temporarily, and my request is that you close your eyes until permission is given to open them.'
Is there any one of my readers in doubt respecting my reception of this proposal? Remember my situation, remember the bizarre happening that had led up to it; remember, too, ere judging me, that whilst I could not doubt the unseen presence of Chinamen unnumbered surrounding that strange apartment with the golden door, I had not the remotest clue to guide me in determining where it was situated. Since the duration of my unconsciousness was immeasurable, the place in which I found myself might have been anywhere, within say, thirty miles of Fleet Street!
'I agree,' I said.
The mandarin bowed composedly.
'Kindly close your eyes, Dr. Petrie,' he requested, 'and fear nothing. No danger threatens you.'
I obeyed. Instantly sounded the note of a gong, and I became aware that the golden door was open. A soft voice, evidently that of a cultured Chinaman, spoke quite close to my ear—
'Keep your eyes tightly closed, please, and I will help you on with this coat. The envelope you will find in the pocket and here is a tweed cap. Now take my hand.'
Wearing the borrowed garments, I was led from the room, along a passage, down a flight of thickly carpeted stairs, and so out of the house into the street. Faint evidences of remote traffic reached my ears as I was assisted into a car and placed in a cushioned corner. The car moved off, proceeded for some distance; then—
'Allow me to help you to descend,' said the soft voice. 'You may open your eyes in thirty seconds.'
I was assisted from the step on to the pavement—and I heard the car being driven back. Having slowly counted thirty I opened my eyes, and looked about me. This, and not the fevered moment when first I had looked upon the room with the golden door, seemed to be my true awakening, for about me was comprehensible world, the homely streets of London, with deserted Portland Place stretching away on the one hand and a glimpse of midnight Regent Street obtainable on the other! The clock of the neighboring church struck one.
My mind yet dull with wonder of it all, I walked on to Oxford Circus and there obtained a taxicab, in which I drove to Fleet Street. Discharging the man, I passed quickly under the time worn archway into the court and approached our stair. Indeed, I was about to ascend when some one came racing down and almost knocked me over.
'Petrie! Petrie! Thank God you're safe!'
It was Nayland Smith, his eyes blazing with excitement, as I could see by the dim light of the lamp near the archway, and his hands, as he clapped them upon my shoulders, quivering tensely.
'Petrie!' he ran on impulsively, and speaking with extraordinary rapidly, 'I was detained by a most ingenious trick and arrived only five minutes ago, to find you missing, the window wide open, and signs of hooks, evidently to support a rope ladder, having been attached to the ledge.'
'But where were you going?'
'Weymouth has just rung up. We have indisputable proof that the mandarin Ki-Ming, whom I had believed to be dead, and whom I know for a high official of the Si-Fan, is actually in London! It's neck or nothing this time, Petrie! I'm going straight to Portland Place!'
'To the Chinese Legation?'
'Exactly!'
'Perhaps I can save you a journey,' I said slowly. 'I have just come from there!'
Chapter 28 THE MANDARIN KI-MING
Nayland Smith strode up and down the little sitting-room, tugging almost savagely at the lobe of his left ear. To-night his increasing grayness was very perceptible, and with his feverishly bright eyes staring straightly before him, he looked haggard and ill, despite the deceptive tan of his skin.
'Petrie,' he began in his abrupt fashion, 'I am losing confidence in myself.'
'Why?' I asked in surprise.
'I hardly know; but for some occult reason I feel afraid.'
'Afraid?'
'Exactly; afraid. There is some deep mystery here that I cannot fathom. In the first place, if they had really meant you to remain ignorant of the place at which the episodes described by you occurred, they would scarcely have dropped you at the end of Portland Place.'
'You mean … ?'
'I mean that I don't believe you were taken to the Chinese Legation at all. Undoubtedly you saw the mandarin Ki-Ming; I recognize him from your description.'
'You have met him, then?'
'No; but I know those who have. He is undoubtedly a very dangerous man, and it is just possible——'
He hesitated, glancing at me strangely.
'It is just possible,' he continued musingly, 'that his presence marks the beginning of the end. Fu-Manchu's health may be permanently impaired, and Ki-Ming may have superceded him.'
'But, if what you suspect, Smith, be only partly true, with what object was I seized and carried to that singular interview? What was the meaning of the whole solemn farce?'
'Its meaning remains to be discovered,' he answered; 'but that the mandarin is amicably disposed I refuse to believe. You may dismiss the idea. In dealing with Ki-Ming we are to all intents and purposes dealing with Fu- Manchu. To me, this man's presence means one thing: we are about to be subjected to attempts along slightly different lines.'
I was completely puzzled by Smith's tone.
'You evidently know more of this man, Ki-Ming, than you have yet explained to me,' I said.
Nayland Smith pulled out the blackened briar and began rapidly to load it.
'He is a graduate,' he replied, 'of the Lama College, or monastery, of Rache-Churan.
'This does not enlighten me.'
Having got his pipe going well—
'What do you know of animal magnetism?' snapped Smith.
The question seemed so wildly irrelevant that I stared at him in silence for some moments. Then—
'Certain powers sometimes grouped under that head are recognized in every hospital to-day,' I answered shortly.
'Quite so. And the monastery of Rache-Churan is entirely devoted to the study of the subject.'
'Do you mean that that gentle old man——'
'Petrie, a certain M. Sokoloff, a Russian gentleman whose acquaintance I made in Mandalay, related to me an episode that took place at the house of the mandarin Ki-Ming in Canton. It actually occurrd in the presence of M. Sokoloff, and therefore is worthy of your close attention.
'He had had certain transactions with Ki-Ming, and at their conclusion received an invitation to dine with the mandarin. The entertainment took place in a sort of loggia or open pavilion, immediately in front of which was an ornamental lake, with numerous waterlilies growing upon its surface. One of the servants, I think his name was Li, dropped a silver bowl containing orange-flower water for pouring upon the hands, and some of the contents lightly sprinkled M. Sokoloff's garments.
'Ki-Ming spoke no word of rebuke, Petrie; he merely
