“Yes!” she turned to him. I saw that her hands were clenched. “I promised.” She glanced down at the motionless, high-shouldered figure seated before her. “It was
Describing a wide circle around the sinister Chinaman, she ran to me, and I had her in my arms. I could feel her heart beating wildly. I held her close, stroking her hair: she was overwrought, on the verge of collapse. She was whispering rapidly—incoherently—other fears for my safety, other happiness to be with me again, when those low even tones came:
“I have performed what I promised. Sir Denis. It is now your turn....”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIRST
THE TRAP IS LAID
My last recollection as I stopped and went out must always remain vivid in my mind.
Those golden records of the Masked Prophet, one of the unique finds in the history of archaeology, lay glittering upon the narrow table under the light of that strange globular lamp. Dr. Fu Manchu, his long pointed chin resting upon his crossed hands, his elbows upon the table, watched us unfalteringly.
One grave anxiety was set at rest. In reply to a pointed question of Nayland Smith’s, he had assured us that Rima had not been subjected to “damnable drugs or Lama tricks” (Sir Denis’s own words). And, fearing and loathing Dr. Fu Manchu as I did, yet, incredible though it may seem, I never thought of doubting his word. A hundred and one questions I was dying to ask Rima, but first and foremost I wanted to find the sky above by head again.
The Great Corridor was empty from end to end. And, I leading and Nayland Smith bringing up the rear, we stumbled down to the point where it communicates with the narrower passage. Here I turned, and looked back as far as the light of my lamp could reach.
Nothing was visible. I could only think that Dr. Fu Manchu remained alone in the King’s Chamber....
I glanced at Rima. She was clenching her teeth bravely, and even summoned up a pallid smile. But I could see that she was close to the edge of her resources.
“Hurry!” snapped Nayland Smith. “Remember—ten minutes!”
But even when, passing the lowest point, we began to mount towards open air, somehow, I could not credit the idea that Dr. Fu Manchu had carried out this business unaided. I paused again.
“It was here that we heard,” I began——
As though my words had been a cue, from somewhere utterly impossible in those circumstances to define, came the dim note of a gong!
Rima clutched me convulsively. In that age-old corridor, in the heart of the strangest building erected by the hands of man, it was as uncanny a sound as imagination could have conjured up.
“Don’t be afraid, Rima,” came Nayland Smith’s voice. “It’s only a signal that we are on the way up!”
“Oh!” she gasped, “but I can’t bear much more. Please get me out, Shan!—get me out...”
I led on as swiftly as possible. Had Rima collapsed, it would have been no easy task to carry her along that cramped passage. But the purpose of those signals, apart from the mystery of the hiding place of whoever gave them, was a problem we were destined never satisfactorily to solve.
As we had arranged, five men with Dr. Petrie were immediately outside the entrance.
“Thank God, Petrie,” said Nayland Smith hoarsely. “We’ve got her! Here she is! Take care other, old man.”
Whereupon, at sight of the Doctor, Rima’s wonderful fortitude deserted her. She threw herself into his arms with a muffled scream and began to sob hysterically.
“Rima, dear,” I exclaimed, “Rima!”
Petrie, supporting her with one arm, waved to me to go on, at the same time nodding reassuringly.
“Come on, Greville,” said Nayland Smith. “She’s in safe hands, and better without you at the moment.”
We had arranged—I confess I had never dared to hope that our arrangements would be carried out—to take her to Mena House. Down on the sands at the foot of the slope Sir Lionel and Hewlett were stationed. And, as I jumped from the last step:
“Have you got her, Greville? Is she safe?” the chief asked hoarsely.
“Yes, she’s with Petrie. She’s broken down, poor little lady—and I don’t wonder,” Nayland Smith replied. “But she’s come to no harm, Barton. Keep out of the way—leave her to Petrie.”
“Where has she been? How did it happen?”
“It’s impossible to ask until the nerve storm has worn itself out. Anything to report, Hewlett?”
Tm staggered. Sir Denis! But thank God you have Miss Barton! There’s only one thing. A few minutes after you went in, as we were closing up on the Pyramid, we heard a most awful wailing sound....”
“A
Nayland Smith glanced aside at me.
“Possibly the opposite number
I saw Hewlett glancing at the dial of an illuminated wrist watch.
“Three minutes to go. Sir Denis,” he announced. “How many are inside?”
“One only,” Nayland Smith replied, in a curiously dull voice.
“Only one!” the chief cried incredulously.
“One, but the biggest
“What! You don’t mean...”
“Exactly what I do mean. Barton. We left Dr. Fu Manchu alone in the King’s Chamber.”
“Good God! Then for all his cunning—”
“He’s trapped!” Hewlett concluded. “How he got in, and how he got Miss Barton in, is entirely beyond me. But that he can never get out, is certain.”
He spoke truly; for other than the Grand Hall or Great Corridor along which we had recently come, there is no entrance to the King’s Chamber—and the two exits from the Pyramid were guarded.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SECOND
I SEE EL MOKANNA
Dr. Petrie gave Rima a sleeping draught and saw her
Whereas, at the time of our arrival, the place had been quiet, with few lights showing, now an air of excitement prevailed. People who seemed to have hastily dressed were standing about in groups. We had smuggled Rima in by a side entrance. But in the lobby and on the terrace outside I met many curious glances.
And there was another, altogether more disturbing circumstance. In the roadway, and by the gate usually haunted by dragomans during the day, a group of some forty natives had assembled, of a type not usually met with there. They were men from the desert villages for the most part, and although all were oddly silent, I overheard
