locked.
Complete silence descended upon the laboratory, which was not more than twenty feet square. I found it necessary to keep reminding myself of the fact that in the eyes of those surrounding me, including the formidable Dr. Fu Manchu himself, I had become a Companion of the Si-Fan, a devotee of the cause, a blind slave of the Chinese doctor.
The more I considered the situation, the more obvious it became that I had only one person to fear—Fah Lo Suee! Fah Lo Suee alone knew that I was still the captain of my soul.
She counted on my interest in Fleurette to ensure my complicity. She thought—and she was right—that I would hesitate at nothing to save the lovely Rose-petal from that unimaginable fate mapped out for her by the insane master of so many destinies.
And as I paced up and down that silent room I tried to work out where my duty lay.
Fah Lo Suee clearly took it for granted that I could not escape from the place: this remained to be seen! But assuming that I did escape, and my absence be noted, this would precipitate some catastrophe, at the nature of which I could little more than guess.
Fleurette would be lost to me forever! Sir Frank Narcomb and the rest—what would be their fate?
Moreover, recognising the imminence of his danger, Fu Manchu might open his war on the world!
Yet, now that I knew myself to be not in China, but in Ste Claire de la Roche, my determination to endeavour to get in touch with Nayland Smith was firmly established: the route alone remained doubtful.
And upon this point I formed a sudden resolution.
I had noted that in one of the houses—the first which I had entered with Dr. Fu Manchu, and the loftiest; that in which many fantastic species of palms grew—there was a spiral staircase leading to a series of gangways. By means of these presumably the upper foliage of the trees could be inspected.
From up there, I thought, I might obtain a view of whatsoever lay outside, and thus get my bearings. Otherwise, I was just as likely to penetrate farther and farther into this maze of laboratories and workshops, as to find a way out of it.
I had one chance, and I didn’t know what it was worth. But given anything like decent luck, I proposed to risk it.
For a minute or more I looked in through the observation window to the small house flooded with synthetic sunshine, where those queer, flesh-like orchids were clambering up from steaming mud around the contorted mango roots. They seemed to be moving slightly, as is the way with such plants, in a manner suggesting the breathing of a sleeping animal.
I moved on to the door which communicated with the first of the range of forcing houses, or the last in the order in which I had inspected them. It was the one containing the pitcher plants and other fly-catching varieties.
It was dimly lighted within, and the door slid open as I pressed the control button. I closed it, adjusted the gauge, then opened the inner door and went in.
The steamy heat of the place attacked me at once. It was like stepping out of a temperate clime into the heart of a jungle. The air was laden with perfumes—pleasant and otherwise; the predominant smell being that of an ineffable rottenness which characterises swampy vegetation.
I threaded my way along a narrow path. So far, I had met with success—probably all the doors were unfastened.
It proved to be so, nor did I meet a soul on the way.
And when at last I stood in the most imposing house of all, palms towering high above my head, I became conscious of an apprehension against which I must fight...that the note of recall would suddenly sound in my brain.
Yet to discard the metal ring would have been folly.
There was an odd whispering among the dim palm-tops, for the place was but half lighted. It felt and smelled like a tropical forest. Much of the glass comprising the walls was semi-opaque. What lay beyond, I had no means of finding out.
I moved cautiously along until I came to that spiral staircase I had noted. It was situated at no great distance from the doorway through which I had originally entered.
Cautiously I began to ascend, my rubber-soled shoes creating a vague thrumming sound upon the metal steps. I reached the top of the first staircase and saw before me a narrow gangway with a single handrail—not unlike those found in engine rooms.
Palm boles towered about me, and fronds of lower foliage extended across the platform. I advanced, sometimes ducking under them, to where vaguely I had seen a second stair leading higher. I mounted this until I found myself among the tops of wildly unfamiliar trees; narrow galleries branched off in several directions. I selected one which seemed to lead to the glass wall. I saw queer fruit glowing in the crowns of trees unknown. Normally I could not have resisted inspecting it more closely; but to-night my professional enthusiasms must be subdued: a task of intense urgency claimed me.
Then, I had almost come to where one gangway joined another running flat against the glass wall, up very near to the arching roof, when I pulled up, inhaled deeply, and clutched at the hand rail....
Uttering a shrill whistling sound,
My heart was beating rapidly—but I tried to laugh at myself.
It was Fu Manchu’s marmoset!
I had begun to move on again when once more I pulled up.
Surely it was not the doctor’s custom to allow his pet to roam at large in these houses? It had presumably escaped from its usual quarters, and sooner or later the doctor, or someone else, would see it.
I stood still, listening. I could hear nothing save the faint whispering of the leaves.
Moving on to the side gallery, I saw ahead of me through glass windows a rugged slope topped by a ruined wall, and beyond the wall an ancient building. Stepping slightly to the right, I could see more of the place—a narrow street descending in cobbled stops, and another more modem building, from the arched entrance of which light shone out upon the cobbles. Looking higher, I saw a cloudless sky gemmed with stars.
This, beyond doubt was the back of Ste Claire, and these huge forcing houses were built against the slope which ran down from it to the sea.
In other words, as I stood, the sea was behind me. I must seek an exit in that direction. I walked back along the gangways to the head of the spiral staircase, seeing nothing of Peko, the marmoset, on my way.
I descended; proceeded along the second gallery to the lower stair, and so reached the rubber covered floor again.
Instantly, I noticed something which pulled me up dead in my tracks...an unmistakable smell of
I turned slowly, fists clenched, looking towards those doors which I knew to communicate with the study of Dr. Fu Manchu.
Good heavens! what did this mean?
Both doors, the inner and the outer, were open!
From where I stood I could see the farther wall of the room—I could see a silk lantern suspended from the ceiling;
some of the books in their barbaric bindings; the thick carpet;
and even that Chinese stool upon which I had sat.
Not a sound reached me.
Something, perhaps a natural cowardice, was urging me to go back—to go back, but I conquered it, and went forward— very cautiously.
I believe I had rarely done anything so truly praiseworthy as when I crossed the space between those two doors, and, craning forward inch by inch, peeped into the study.
chapter twenty-eighth
EVIL INCARNATE
