to communicate a sense of his presence to the majestic newcomer.
Slowly the massive head was turned. Hepburn, through the glass of the window, met the regard of a pair of vivid green eyes which seemed to be looking directly into his own. . . . Never in his life had he seen such eyes. If, under the circumstances, he was actually visible from inside the room he could not be sure:
but of one face, one astounding fact, he was certain:
This was Dr. Fu Manchu!
Chapter 25
SIEGE OF CHINATOWN (concluded)
Mark Hepburn, keyed up by the immensity of the moment, ventured to the very top of the swaying ladder. He clutched a hook on one side of the window, placed there for the convenience of window-cleaners, and crashed his right heel through a pane of glass.
Stooping, he thrust his automatic through the opening, and: “Hands up, Fu Manchu!” he shouted, his voice rising from syllable to syllable upon notes of excitement.
The sea mist continued its insidious invasion of the streets below. One by one it blotted out the lights below. A voice spoke from the leads at the foot of the ladder:
“Go easy, Captain: we can’t catch you if you fall!”
Hepbum scarcely heeded the cry: his entire interest was focussed upon the uncanny being who stood in the curtained opening. The two men straining on the rope were wonderfully trained servants; for at the glass crash and harsh words of command they had not started, had not turned, but had continued to perform mechanically the duty allotted to them!
Slowly, the perturbing regard of those green eyes never wavering, the tall Chinaman raised his hands. If he could not see the speaker, he could see the barrel of the automatic. From below:
“Bear left!” came urgently “We can’t hold the ladder.”
During one irrevocable moment Hepburn tore his attention away. In that moment the room became plunged in darkness!
Clutching at the hook he fired in the direction of the curtained doorway. . . and the flash showed it to be empty. Further shots would be wasted. He craned downward.
“Pass the word there’s a ropeway across the street. This damnable fog has helped them. Have the house opposite covered and searched.”
Now came shouted orders, sounds of running, muffled cries from the police below. . . .
“Arrest everyone in Wu King’s. Search the place from roof to cellar.”
He fired again in the direction of the distant window, aiming over the heads of the Chinamen. Craning forward, he heard scurrying footsteps; then came silence. Perilously, but aided by a high exaltation which had come to him in the moment when he knew that he actually stood in the presence of the all but fabulous Dr. Fu Manchu, he found his foothold on the ladder and descended to the roof. Finney, one arm thrown out, hauled him back from the parapet upon which the ladder was poised, and:
“What’s up there, Captain?” he demanded hoarsely. “I feel glued down here to the ladder.”
“A getaway across the street. Get busy. We must hurry.”
But already, delegating to a competent junior the matter of Wu King’s and of those inside it, Lieutenant Johnson had entered the building indicated.
It consisted of a dry-goods store which had been closed half an hour before, and of apartments above. (Investigations were to prove that the landlord was none other than Wu King.) Employing those methods peculiar to the police responsible for the good conduct of Chinatown, entrance was forced to every apartment and every room right to the top. Here a hitch occurred.
On the top storey was a lodge of the Hip Sing Tong. No key was forthcoming, and the door defied united attack.
As a precautionary measure every man, woman and child found in the building had been arrested. Laden police wagons were taking them to the Tombs when Hepburn came racing up to the landing. The work of the demolition of the door of the Tong temple had commenced. It was proving a tough job when a cry came:
“Make way there!”
A grim-faced policeman appeared from below, holding an elderly Chinaman by the scruff of the neck.
“He’s got the key,” he explained laconically.
A moment later the door was thrown open. Light was searched for and found, and the garishly decorated place revealed.
It was permeated by a curious odour of stale incense wafted in their direction by a draught from a window overhanging the street. Tackle lay upon the floor; a pulley had been rigged to one of the beams which crossed the ceiling. It was to this spot that escape had been made from the top story of Wu King’s building.
The Tong temple was empty from wall to wall. . . .
Chapter 26
THE SILVER BOX
In his tower study Dr. Fu Manchu spoke softly. Two points of light glowed upon the switchboard on the table.
“It was well done, my friend, but the rest is merely a question of time. Base 3 must be vacated. It is regrettable that the representative from Egypt should have been arrested, but steps have been taken to ensure his release. Of Wu Chang’s silence we are certain; other representatives are safe. You are short of helpers, therefore
