What did it mean? That it meant mischief-- and bloody mischief--I felt certain. But what should I do?
I lighted a pipe and stared down into Piccadilly. Inaction was intolerable. What could I do? I couldn't give this man in charge of the police. Apart from the possibility of a mistake, what evidence had I against him? Finally I grabbed my hat and went out into the corridor. I had detected no sound of movement in the neighbouring room.
Walking over to the lift, I rang the bell. The cage had just arrived and I was on the point of stepping in, when I thought someone passed swiftly behind me.
I turned. My nerves were badly over- tuned. The figure had gone, but:
'Who was that?' I said to the lift-boy 'Who do you mean, sir,' he asked. 'I didn't see anyone.'
I thought that he was looking at me rather oddly, and:
'Ground floor,' I said.
Had this thing got me more deeply than I realized? Small wonder if it were so, consid- ering my own experience. But was I begin- ning to imagine creatures of Dr. Fu Manchu, shadows, menaces, where really there was no physical presence? It was a dreadful thought, one to be repelled at all costs by a man who had passed through the nightmare of that month which I had survived.
For I had been dead and I lived again.
Sometimes the horror of it wakened me in the middle of the night. A drug, unknown to Western science, had been pumped into my veins. The skill of an Asiatic physician had brought me back to life. Petrie's experience-- aided by the mysterious 'Dr. Amber'--had done the rest. But there might be an after- math, beyond the control even of this dreadful Chinaman whose shadow again was creeping over Europe.
My present intention was to walk across to Cook's and learn at what time the s. s. Andaman, in which Sir Lionel and Rima were travelling, docked, and when the boat-train arrived. I was in that state of anxiety in which one ceases to trust that high authority, the hotel hall porter.
This purpose was frustrated by the sudden appearance, as I came down the steps, of Dr. Petrie and his wife. I was instantly struck by the fact that something had terrified Mrs. Petrie. The doctor was almost supporting her....
'Hello, Greville,' he said. 'My wife has had rather a shock. Come back with us for a minute.'
The fact was obvious enough. Filled with a sudden new concern, I realized, as I took Mrs. Petrie's arm and walked back up the hotel steps, that she was in a condition bordering on collapse. Well enough I knew that this could mean only one thing. As I had suspected, as Weymouth had suspected--the enemy was near us!
In the lobby she sat down and her husband regarded her anxiously. Normally, she had the most wonderful flower-like complexion--I mean naturally, without artifi- cial aid--of any woman I had ever met. Now she was pale, and her wonderful eyes mirrored a sort of mysterious horror.
'Are you sure, Kara? Are you sure?' Petrie asked with deep concern.
'Could I ever be wrong about him? '
'When you are safely upstairs, dear,' he replied, 'I am going back to confirm your suspicion--or disprove it. '
'But,' I exclaimed, 'whatever is wrong? '
'He is here. '
'What do you mean, Mrs. Petrie? Who is here?'
She looked up at me, and for all her pallor I knew how beautiful she was. I thought that if those strange, wonderful eyes had beckoned to me before I had known Rima, I should have followed wherever they led. She was, indeed, very lovely, and very terrified; and: 'It seems like madness,' she whispered; 'but about this I can never be mistaken. If I had not seen, I should have felt. But I saw. '
'Do you understand, Greville,' Petrie interrupted tersely, 'my wife saw--I can't doubt her; she has never been wrong on this point--someone looking out from a window above a shop in Burlington Arcade. '
'I know it is madness, but I know it is true,' she said.
'When?' I demanded.
'A moment ago. '
'But do you mean--'
Mrs. Petrie nodded.
Her eyes were tragic. She stood up.
'I am going upstairs,' she said. 'No, truly, I'm quite all right again. Go back, or it may be too late. But take Mr. Greville with you.'
She walked towards the lift, whilst Petrie and I watched her. As she entered and the lift went up:
'It seems simply incredible to me,' I declared. 'But do you mean that in a room over a shop in Burlington Arcade-- '
'A dealer in Oriental jewellery, yes!' Petrie took me up quickly. 'I could see nothing--the room above was in darkness-- but Karamaneh saw Dr. Fu Manchu looking down!'
6
I wondered if Nayland Smith would have approved of Petrie's method of inquiry. Personally, I thought it admirable, for as we entered the establishment, oddly reminiscent, as many are in the Arcade, of a shop in an Eastern bazaar:
'My wife came along this afternoon,' said Petrie, 'and noticed a large Chinese figure in the room above. She asked me to call and learn the price.'
The salesman, who would not have been out of place in any jewel market of the Orient, except for the fact that he wore a well-cut morning coat, raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was leaning upon a case containing typical Levantine exhibits, and all sorts of beaded necklaces framed him about. I thought that, saving the presence of civilised London around us, he might, considered alone, have been termed a sinister figure.
'The room above, sir,' he replied 'is not my property. It is used as a store-room by another firm. See'--he turned--'the stair is there, but the door is locked. I have a case upon it as you may observe for yourself. That door is very rarely opened. And I assure you it contains no Chinese figure.'
He made no attempt to sell us anything.
But outside, in the Arcade,we both stared up at the window above the shop. The room to which it belonged appeared to be empty. Petrie shrugged.
'She has never been wrong before,' he said significantly. 'And the gentleman with whom we have been chatting gives one the shudders. '
'I agree, but what can we do? '
'Nothing,' he replied.
Turning, we walked back to the Park Avenue Hotel. The journey was a short one, but long enough for me to tell Petrie of my encounter in the corridor. He stopped as we reached the comer of Berkeley Street, and:
'There's some very black business under- lying all this, Greville,' he said. 'We've lost the best man of the lot already. Now it looks as though the arch-devil had taken personal charge. Where's Weymouth? '
'Gone to Victoria, I expect. Yale was with him.'
Petrie nodded.
'If you weren't mistaken, Greville, it looks as though the danger to Swazi Pasha is here, in London. If my wife isn't mistaken--it's a certainty! We can at least learn the name of the man you saw; because in dealing with Dr. Fu Manchu and his Burmans I don't believe in coincidences!'
We consulted the reception clerk and learned without difficulty that the room, of which I naturally remembered the number, was occupied by a Mr. Solkel, of Smyrna.
'Has he stayed here before?' Petrie asked.
No. It was Mr. Solkel's first visit.
'Thank you,' said Petrie, and as we walked towards the lift:
'Mr. Solkel, of Smyrna,' he mused. 'I don't like the sound of him. '
'I don't like the look of him! '
'Yet it is just possible you were wrong; and so--what can we do?'
We went up to Petrie's sitting-room where his wife, apparently recovered, was waiting to receive us.
She smiled, her gaze set on Petrie's face; and I wondered if Rima would greet me with a smile like that. He simply shook his head and ran his fingers through her beautiful hair.
