“Good work by me!”
Nayland Smith rested his hand upon the shoulder of the man in the bows and mounted to the wooden platform. Another tugboat went by as Corrigan joined him. Her starboard light transformed the launch party below into a crew of demons and gleamed evilly on the barrel of a gun which Corrigan carried.
“It was the same two men who brought the fourth passenger?” Smith asked.
“Can’t confirm that until we check up with Eastman, who’s in charge above. But the other three were brought down by a pair of Chinks, and one of the Chinks rang a bell—which I guess I can locate: I was watching through binoculars. How many times he rang—except it was more than once—is another story.”
“I know how many times he rang, Corrigan.
“Got my hand on it!”
The spar, raised upon the shoulders of the launch party, now rested on the rail of the platform. Slowly, quietly it was moved forward. Corrigan snapped his fingers as a signal when it all but touched the door.
“We don’t know which way it opens,” he whispered— “always supposing it
The spar separated the two men.
“That doesn’t matter. Ring seven times.”
Police Captain Corrigan raised his hand to a sunken bell-push and pressed it seven times. Almost immediately the door opened. Beyond was cavernous darkness.
“Go to it, boys!” Corrigan shouted.
Lustily the spar was plunged through the opening. Nayland Smith and Corrigan shot rays of light into the black gap. Somewhere above a whistle blew. There came a rush of hurrying footsteps upon planking, a subdued uproar of excitement.
“Come on, Corrigan!” snapped Nayland Smith.
Corrigan leaped over the spar and followed his leader into black darkness now partly dispersed by the light of two torches. It was a brick tunnel in which they found themselves, illimitable so far as the power of the lights was concerned. Corrigan paused, turned, and:
“This way, boys!” he shouted.
The patter of feet echoed eerily in that narrow passage. Vaguely, against reflection from the river, the spar could be seen jammed across the doorway. Nayland Smith’s light was already far ahead.
“Wait for me, Chief!” Corrigan yelled urgently.
The officer in charge of the hidden party which secretly had been assembled for many hours appeared, a silhouette against a background of shimmering water, leading his men as Corrigan sprang along the tunnel behind Nayland Smith.
Five paces Corrigan had taken when Nayland Smith turned.
“Wait for the men, Corrigan,” he cried, his snappy instructions echoing weirdly.
Corrigan paused, turned, and looking back. A line of figures, ant-like, streamed in from the river opening. Then:
“My God! what’s this?” Corrigan groaned.
Something, something which created a shattering crash, had blotted out the scene. Corrigan turned his light back. Nayland Smith was running to join him.
An iron door, resembling a sluice-gate, had been dropped between them and the river. . . . They were cut off!
Chapter 24
SEIGE OF CHINATOWN
The temple of the seven-eyed goddess was illuminated by light which shone out from its surrounding alcoves. Since each of these was draped by a curtain of different colour, the effect was very curious. These curtains were slightly drawn aside so that from the point occupied by the seven-eyed idol it would have become apparent that many cells were occupied.
There were shadowy movements depicted upon the curtains. At the sound of a gong these movements ceased.
The brazen note was still humming around the vault-like place when Dr. Fu Manchu came in. He wore his yellow robe, and a mandarin’s cap was set upon his high skull. He took his seat at a table near the pedestal of the carved figure. He glanced at some notes which lay there.
“Greeting,” he said gutturally.
A confused murmur of voices from his hidden audience responded.
“I may speak in English,” he continued, his precise voice giving its exact value to every syllable which he uttered, “for I am informed that this language is common to all of us present to-night. Those of the Seven not here in person are represented by their accredited nominees, approved by the council. But in accordance with our custom whereby only one of all the Seven shall know the other six, it has been necessary, owing to the presence of such nominees, to hold this meeting in the manner arranged.”
A murmur which might have been one of assent greeted his words.
“I have succeeded in placing the chief executive we have selected in a position from which no human agency can throw him down. You may take it for granted that he will enjoy the support of the League of Good Americans. The voice of the priest, Patrick Donegal, I have not yet contrived wholly to control. . . . Because of a protective robe
