let out, that from the opposite direction being held.
Last but one, I got through.
I was lucky on the rest of the way, too, and having hastily disposed of my car I went racing into the station. I knew that (a) I must take care not to be seen; that (b) I must find out what trains were about to depart and swiftly make up my mind for which I wanted a platform ticket.
A Continental boat train was due to leave in five minutes.
This struck me as being quite the likeliest bet. The next departure, seven minutes later, was for Brighton, and somehow I felt disposed to wash this out as a possibility. Turning up the collar of my topcoat and pulling my hat well forward, I took a platform ticket and strolled among departing passengers and friends, porters, refreshment wagons and news vendors.
I glanced at the luggage van, but doubted if I should recognize the particular baggage I had seen upon the tail of the car. Then, time being short, I walked along the platform. I could see no sign of two women, and I began to wonder if I had made a mistake. I started back again, scrutinising all the compartments and staring into the Pullman cars.
But never a glimpse did I obtain of Ardatha or her companion. I was almost in despair and was standing looking right and left when a conversation taking place near by arrested my attention.
“I’ve got an old lady going through to Venice. I noticed you had a party of two for Venice, so I wondered if you could arrange to give them adjoining places in the car. They might strike up an acquaintance—see what I mean?”
“You mean the two good-lookers—the red head and the dark one—in D? Yes, they’re booked for Venice but I don’t know if they’re going direct. Where’s your passenger?”
“D. Number eleven. Do what you can, Jack.”
“Right-o!”
I glanced quickly at the speakers. One was a Cook’s man and the other the chief Pullman attendant. It was perhaps a forlorn hope, but I had known equally unlikely things to come off. I turned back and went to look at coach D.
One glance was enough!
Ardatha was seated in a corner reading. Her companion was standing up and placing something upon the rack, for I had a momentary impression of a tall, slender, almost serpentine figure. I turned away quickly and hurried back to the barrier.
The beautiful dark mystery was undoubtedly the woman associated with the death of General Quinto—with the death of Osaki! The woman who had drugged Constable Isles and who had escaped with the model and plans of the vacuum charger! Although perhaps not blood guilty, Ardatha was her accomplice. It was an unhappy, a wildly disturbing thought. Yet, I must confess, so profound was my dread of the Chinese doctor, that I rejoiced to know she lived! His words about retribution had haunted me . . . But one thing I must do and do quickly:
I must advise Nayland Smith.
Here were two known accomplices of Dr Fu Manchu. My duty to my friend—to the world—demanded that steps should be taken to apprehend them at Folkestone. There was no room for sentiment; my conscience pointed the straight road to duty.
The Brain Is Dr Fu Manchu”
“Dinner’s off, Kerrigan! We shall have to get what we can on the way.”
“What!”
“Accident has thrown the first clue of many weary days and nights in your way Kerrigan, and you handled it very cleverly.”
“Thank you.”
“My latest information, just to hand, explains why Doctor Fu Manchu’s attention has become directed upon Rudolf Adion. Adion is on his way to Venice for a secret meeting with his brother dictator, Monaghani!”
“But that’s impossible. Smith!” I exclaimed. I was still figuratively breathless from my dash to Victoria. “It’s in the evening papers than Adion is reviewing troops tomorrow morning.”
Smith was pacing up and down in an old silk dressing gown and smoking his pipe. He paused, turned, and stared at me with raised eyebrows. His glance was challenging.
“I thought it was common knowledge, Kerrigan,” he said quietly “that Adion has a double.”
“A double!”
“Certainly. I assumed you knew; almost everybody else knows. Stalin of Russia has three.”
“Three doubles?”
“Three. He knows that he is likely to be assassinated at almost any moment and in this way the odds are three to one in his favour. On such occasions as that which you have mentioned, when the director of his country stands rigidly at the salute for forty minutes or so while troops march by with mechanical accuracy, it is not Rudolf Adion the First who stands in that painful position. Oh no, Kerrigan: It is Rudolf Adion the Second! The Second will be there tomorrow, but the First, the original, the real Rudolf Adion, is already on his way to Venice.”
“Then you think that the fact of these two women proceeding to Venice means—, ,
“It means that Doctor Fu Manchu is in Venice, or shortly will be! Throughout his career he has used the weapon of feminine beauty, and many times that weapon has proved to be double-edged. However, we know what to look for.”
“Surely you will take steps to have them arrested at Folkestone?”
“Not at all.”
“Why?”
He smiled, paused.
“Do you recall Fu Manchu’s words on striking at the heart, the brain? Very well. The heart is the Council of Seven—the brain is Doctor Fu Manchu. It is at the brain I mean to strike, therefore we are leaving for Venice immediately.”
He had pressed the bell and now the door opened and Fey came in.
“Advise Wing Commander Roxburgh that I shall want the plane to leave for Venice in an hour. He is to notify Paris and Rome and to arrange for a night landing.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Stand by with the car.”
Fey went out.
“You are sure, Kerrigan, you are sure”—Nayland Smith spoke excitedly—”that you were not recognized?”
“Sure as it is possible to be. Ardatha was reading. I am practically certain that she could not have seen me. The other woman doesn’t know me.”
Nayland Smith laughed aloud and then stared in an amused way.
“You have much to learn yet,” he said,”about Doctor Fu Manchu.”
Venice
Of those peculiar powers possessed by Nayland Smith, I mean the facilities with which he was accredited, I had a glimpse on this journey. And if confirmation had been needed of the gravity of the menace represented by Dr Fu Manchu and the Council of Seven, I should have recognized from the way in which his lightest wishes were respected that this was a very grave menace indeed.
We had travelled by a Royal Air Force plane which had performed the journey in little more than half the time of the commercial service!
As we entered the sitting room allotted to us in the Venice hotel, we found Colonel Correnti, chief of police, waiting.
Smith, dismissing an obsequious manager with a smile and wave of the hand, turned to the police officer.
He presented me.
“You may speak with complete confidence in Mr. Kerrigan’s presence. Has Rudolf Adion arrived?”
“Yes.”
