And although I heard not the faintest sound, I
Possibly...Dr. Fu Manchu!
I stepped up to the writing desk, upon which the telephone stood—and in doing so noticed that the shutters outside the window had been closed. First and foremost, I must establish contact with Sir Denis. I thought I should by justified in reporting that the enemy had not yet found the formula.
The automatic in my right hand, I took up the receiver in the left. Because of the position of the instrument, I was compelled to turn half away from the open door.
I could get no reply. I depressed the lever; there was no answering ring....
Alight sound, and a change in the illumination of the room, brought me about in a flash.
The door was closed.
And the telephone line was dead—cut....
I leapt to the door, grasped the handle, and turned it fiercely. I remained perfectly cool—which is my way of seeing red. The door was locked.
At which moment the lights went out.
chapter twelfth
MIMOSA
I listened intently, not knowing what to expect. That this was a prelude to an attack on my life, I did not doubt.
The room was now in complete darkness, for, as I had already noted, the outside shutters had been closed. There were two points from which this attack was to be apprehended: the door or the window. There was no chimney, heat being provided by a stove the pipe of which was carried out through an aperture in the wall high up near the ceiling.
At first I could not hear a sound.
Very cautiously I bent and pressed my ear to the thin panelling of the door. Now, I detected movement—and, furthermore, sibilant whispering. I could hear my own heart beating, too.
After a lapse of fully a minute, I became certain that
A murderous rage possessed me.
It was unnecessary to recall Sir Denis’s instructions: “Don’t hesitate to shoot.” I did not intend to hesitate...I was anxious for an opportunity. Petrie’s haggard face was always before my mind’s eye. And ifNayland Smith were correct, Sir Manston Rorke also had been foully done to death by this callous, foul group surrounding the creature called Fu Manchu.
A very slight movement upon the woodwork now enabled me to locate the exact position of the one who listened.
I hesitated no longer.
Standing upright, I clapped the nose of my automatic against the panel at a point about waist high and fired through the door....
The report in that tiny enclosed space was deafening, but the accuracy of my judgment was immediately confirmed. A smothered, choking cry and a groan followed by the sound of a heavy fall immediately outside told me that my shot had not gone astray.
Braced tensely, I stood awaiting what would follow. I anticipated an attempt to rush the room, and I meant to give an account of myself.
What actually happened was utterly unexpected.
Someone was opening the outer door of the villa; then I heard a low voice—and it was a woman’s voice!
I had stepped aside, anticipating that my own method might be imitated, but now headless of risk, I bent and listened again. A faint smell of burning was perceptible where I had fired through the woodwork.
That low, musical voice was speaking rapidly—but not in English, nor in any language with which I was familiar. It was some tongue containing strange gutturals. But even these could not disguise the haunting music of the speaker’s tone.
The woman called Fah Lo Suee was outside in the lobby....
Then I heard a man’s voice, a snarling, hideous voice, replying to her; and, I thought, a second. But of this I could not be sure....
They were dragging a heavy body out onto the verandah. There came a choking cough. Such was my mood that I could have cheered aloud. One of the skulking rats had had his medicine!
As those movements proceeded in accordance with rapidly spoken orders in that unforgettable voice, I turned to considerations of my own safety. Tiptoeing across the room and endeavouring to avoid those obstacles the position of which I could remember, I mounted on to the writing table.
Slipping the automatic into my pocket I felt for the catch of the window, found it, and threw the window open: the shutters, I knew, I could burst with a blow, for they were old, and the fastener was insecure.
I moved farther forward, resting upon one knee, and raised my hands.
As I did so, a ghastly thing happened—a thing unforeseen. I was faced by a weapon against which I had no defence.
Pouring down through the slats of the shutters came a cloud of vapour. I was drenched, saturated, blinded by
and as I threw one arm across my face in a vain attempt to shield myself from the deadly vapour, this hissing sound was repeated.
I fell onto both knees, rolled sideways, and tried to throw myself back.
But the impalpable abomination seemed to follow me. I was enveloped in a cloud of it. I tried to cry out—I couldn’t breathe—I was choking.
A third time I heard the hissing sound, and then I think I must have rolled from the table onto the floor. My impression at the time was of falling—falling into dense yellow banks of idoud, reeking of mimosa....
chapter thirteenth
THE FORMULA
“sterling, Sterling! wake up, man! You’re all right now.”
I opened my eyes as directed, and apart from a feeling of pressure on the temples, I experienced no discomfort.
I was in my own bed at the Villa Jasmin!
Nayland Smith was standing beside me, and a bespectacled, bearded young man whom I recognized as one of Dr. Carrier’s juniors was bending down and watching me anxiously.
Without any of that mental chaos which usually follows unconsciousness, I remembered instantly all that had happened, up to the moment that I had rolled from the table.
“They drugged me. Sir Denis,” I said, “but I can tell you all that happened.”
“The details. Sterling. I have already reconstructed the outline.” He turned to the doctor. “You see, this drug apparently has no after effects.”
The medical man felt my pulse, then turned in amazement to Sir Denis.
“It is truly astounding,” he admitted. “I know of no property in any species of mimosa which could explain this.”
“Nevertheless,” rapped Sir Denis, “the smell of mimosa is still perceptible in the sitting room.”
The French doctor nodded in grave agreement. Then as I sat up—for I felt as well as I had ever felt in my life——
“No, please,” he insisted, and laid his hand upon my shoulder: “I should prefer that you lie quiet for the present.”
“Yes, take it easy. Sterling,” said Nayland Smith. There was another victim here last night.”
“The man in the laboratory?”
