cigarettes, and a pot of coffee stood between them. In type, they were unfamiliar; unfamiliar in the sense that one didn't expect to come across them in an outpost of Egypt. In Cairo, they might have passed unnoticed, but their presence in el- Kharga was extraordinary. I turned to Nayland Smith, who was glancing in the same direction; and: 'What are they?' I asked.
'Afghans,' he replied. 'The great broth- erhood of Kali is well represented here. '
'Remarkable,' I said, 'There can be few relations between Afghanistan and this obscure spot. '
'None whatever!' Weymouth broke in. 'And now, Greville, follow the direction in which my cigarette is pointing.'
Endeavouring not to betray myself, I did as he suggested.
'A group of three,' he added for my guid- ance.
I saw the group. I might have failed to identify them, but my memory was painfully fresh in regard to that dead man in the Tomb of the Black Ape. They wore their turbans in such a manner that the mark on the brow could not be distinguished. But I knew them for Burmans; and I did not doubt that they belonged to the mysterious fraternity of the dacoits! At which moment:
'Don't turn around until I give the signal,' Nayland Smith rapped--'but just behind us.'
I watched him as he glanced about, appar- ently in search of a waiter, then caught his signal. I looked swiftly into an alcove under the stairs... and then turned aside, as the gaze of a pair of fierce, wild-animal eyes became focused upon mine. The waiter arrived and Nayland Smith ordered more coffee. As the man departed to execute the order:
Thugs!' he whispered. He bent over the table. 'There are representatives of at least three religious fanatical sects in this place to- night. Dacoity is represented, also Thugee. The two gentlemen from Kandahar are phan- sigars, or religious stran-glers!' He stared at Weymouth. 'Does this suggest anything to you?'
Weymouth's blue eyes were fixed on me and:
'I confess, Greville,' he said, 'that I feel as you do.... And I can see that you're puzzled. '
'I am,' I agreed.
Nayland Smith raised his hand irritably and tugged at the lobe of his left ear; then: 'You understand, Petrie?' he jerked.
I looked at Dr. Petrie and it was unneces- sary for him to reply. I saw that he did under- stand.
'Any doubt I may have had, Smith,' he said, 'regarding the purpose of this expedi- tion, is washed out. In some miraculous way you have brought us to what seems to be the focus of all the dangerous fanatics of the Eastern world!'
'I don't claim all the credit,' Smith replied; 'but I admit that the facts confirm my theory. '
'And what was your theory?' I asked.
'My theory,' Smith replied, 'based on the latest information to hand, and, as Weymouth here knows, almost hourly reports from police headquarters as widely divided as Pekin and Berlin, was this: That some attempt was being made to co-ordinate the dangerous religious sects of the East together with their sympathisers in the West. In short that the organisation once known as the Si Fan--you, alone, Greville,' he turned to me, 'fail to appreciate the significance of this--is in process otreconstruction! Some- thing vital to the scheme was hidden in the Tomb of the Black Ape. This--and I can only blame myself--was removed under my very nose. The centre of the conspiracy is Fah Lo Suee--Dr. Fu Manchu's daughter, whose temporary headquarters I know to be here. To-night, at least, I am justified. Look around.'
He bent over the table and we all did like- wise, so that our four heads came very closely together; then:
'We are not too late,' he said earnestly. 'A meeting has been called... and we must be present!'
5
The two Indians in the alcove stood up and went towards the door. As the pair disap- peared: 'They lead, and we follow!' said Nayland Smith.
'Go ahead, Weymouth, and act as connecting link.'
He stood up, clasping his hands for the waiter. Weymouth had his meaning in a moment, nodded, and went out.
'Follow him, Greville!'
I grasped the scheme and went out behind the superintendent. The spirit of the thing was beginning to get me. Truly this was a desperate adventure... for the stakes were life or death!
We were dealing with savagely dangerous characters who were, moreover, expert assas- sins to a man. Possibly those we had actually identified in the cafe represented only a small proportion of the murderous fanatics assem- bled that night in el-Kharga....
Weymouth led and I followed. I had grasped Nayland Smith's routine--and I knew that Petrie would be behind me. The score discharged. Smith would track Petrie.
I saw the bulky form of the superinten- dent at the far side of the square. By a narrow street he paused, peered ahead, and then glanced back.
I raised my hand. Weymouth disappeared.
Reaching the street in turn, I looked along it. I saw a sheer tunnel, but recognized it for that by which we had reached the square. There was an open space at the further end; and I saw Weymouth standing there in the moonlight and knew that I must be visible to him--as a silhouette.
He raised his arm. I replied. Then I looked back.
Dr. Petrie was crossing the square! We exchanged signals and I followed Weymouth. The chain was complete.
For a time I thought that the house of the Sheikh Ismail might be somewhere on the road we had pursued from the palm grove to the town; But it was not so. Weymouth, ahead of me, paused, and gave the signal: left.
A narrow path through rice fields, with scanty cover other than that of an occasional tree, proved to be the route. If the men walking a few hundred yards ahead of Weymouth looked around, they could scarcely fail to see him! I only prayed, should they do so, that they would take it for granted he was bound upon business similar to their own.
Where an acacia drooped over a dome, very white in the moonlight, which marked the resting place of some holy man, the path seemed to end. So also did the cultivated land. Beyond stretched the desert away to distant hills.
By the shrine Weymouth paused, turned, and signalled. I looked back. Petrie was not in sight, I waited, anxiously... and then I saw him, just entering the rice field.
We exchanged signs and I passed on.
Left of the cultivated land, and invisible from the rice, was a close grove of dom palms. As I cautiously circled around the shrine and saw nothing but desert before me, instinctively I looked to the right and left. And there was Weymouth, not fifty yards away!
I joined him, and:
'The house is just beyond the trees,' he said. 'There's a high wall all around it. The two Indians have gone in.'
We waited for Petrie. Then Nayland Smith joined us. He turned and stared back along the path. Evidently no other party was on the way yet. The track through the rice field was empty as far as the eye could see.
'What next?' said Smith. 'I'm afraid I've left too much to chance. We should have visited the mudir. The thing begins to crystallise. I know, now, what to expect.'
He turned, and:
'Weymouth,' he said, 'do you remember the raid on the house in London in 1917? '
'By God!' cried Weymouth. 'You mean the meeting of the Council of Seven? '
'Exactly!' Smith rapped.
'Probably the last. '
'In England, certainly. '
'The Council of Seven?' I said. 'What is the Council of Seven? '
'It's the Si Fan!' Petrie replied, without adding to my information.
But the tone of his voice turned me cold in spite of the warmth of the night.
