Re-enter Dr Fu Manchu

* * *

In the popular but expensive Sunset Room high up in the Babylon-Lido, with its celebrated dance band and star-spangled floor show, Brian found himself transported to Paradise. With Lola in his arms, wearing an alluring dance frock, he was lost to the world, lifted above all its petty troubles—a man rapturously in love.

His frustrations, doubts and fears had dispersed like mist under the morning sun.

“Are you happy, dearest?” he whispered.

“Very happy, Brian.”

He was silent for a long time, living in a dream.

“I often wonder, Lola, in your wanderings about the world, if you ever met someone else who meant more to you than I do.”

“There’s no one who means more to me than you, Brian. But, like you, dear, I have a job to do. We’re both young enough to enjoy ourselves without spoiling it by getting serious, yet awhile.”

Brian drew a long breath, made fragrant by the perfume of her hair.

“You mean you’d rather stay with Michel than cut it out to marry me?”

Lola sighed. “I told you once before, Brian dear, that early marriages, so popular in our country, are often failures.”

“But not always.”

“Brian, we’re happy! Maybe we’ll never capture this wonderful thing again. Please don’t get serious—tonight!”

He swallowed, but found enough discretion to respect her wishes, to surrender himself to the spirit of the dance. As always, Lola was elusive—and all the more maddeningly desirable. He was silent for some time, until:

“There’s a man standing over by the door,” he said, “who

seems to be watching us. Do you know him?” “Which one do you mean, Brian?” “The tall, dark fellow just lighting a cigarette.” Lola laughed. “No, I don’t know him, Brian. But I’m willing to bet he’s the house detective!”

Chapter

12

Brian returned to the suite earlier than he had intended. Lola had been paged just before the star entertainer appeared, and returned, looking very wretched, to tell him that Madame Michel had taken up residence in the Babylon-Lido that night and would remain until her forthcoming dress show there took place. Madame insisted upon an immediate conference in her apartment. ...

He found Nayland Smith at the desk reading what looked like an official document, and smoking as usual, like a factory chimney. The suite was luxuriously furnished, in Babylon-Lido style, and a tall, painted Italian screen enclosed the desk, so that the limited space around it had the quality of a fog. Sir Denis looked up when Brian came in.

“Hullo, Merrick! A rumour reaches me that you were seen in the Sunset Room with a very pretty girl. Don’t apologize! You have had a dull time, I know. Glad you can find agreeable company.”

“Thanks, Dir Denis—though I can’t imagine who told you.”

Nayland Smith smiled. But, again, it wasn’t the happy smile which Brian remembered—a smile which had seemed to sweep the years aside and reveal an eager boy.

“One of the F.B.I, men detailed to keep an eye on you!”

“On me7 Why?”

Sir Denis tossed the typescript aside; stood up.

“Merrick, we’re marked men!” The smile vanished. His face became grim. “If Fu Manchu could trap either of us it would give him a lever with Washington—that he’d know how to use. I have warned you before. Trust nobody—not even a taxi driver you may pick up outside the hotel.”

“But——” A hot protest burned on Brian’s tongue, for he detected an implication that Lola was suspect; checked the words. “You suggest that this man would try to hold us?”

“And could succeed, Merrick. Remember how long I was held! He has not only the Si-Fan behind him, but the Reds as well!” He began to pace up and down. “Dr. Fu Manchu has little time left. Tomorrow night Dr. Hessian has agreed to give a demonstration!”

“Tomorrow night!”

“A committee formed by your father, and approved by the President, will be here. Not one word of this must leak out. Their visit is a top secret. . . . And Fu Manchu would stop at nothing to prevent it!”

* * *

Sleep didn’t come easily to Brian that night. Between uneasy dozes, he found himself trying to figure out if Lola really had been called to attend upon “Madame”, or if she was avoiding being left alone with him, and trying to convince himself that Dr. Hessian’s invention was not a mirage, the dream of a mad scientist, but all that Nayland Smith believed it to be. He drove himself near to a mental frenzy.

That Sir Denis deliberately kept him in the dark concerning certain vital facts of the business was beyond dispute. Why? Didn’t he trust him?

Crowning mystery—which he had never been able to fathom—for what possible reason had he been employed? Those qualifications stipulated in The Times advertisement, all of which he possessed, had never been called upon. For all that had happened to date, almost anybody, graduate or coal miner, athlete or cripple, would have done as well!

He switched on the bedside lamp, saw that the time was 2 a.m., and got up to get a drink. He didn’t want whisky; he was really thirsty; and there was beer in the icebox. He made his way to the kitchenette and opened a can.

As he poured out the cold beer, he wondered if Nayland Smith had gone to sleep, and, carrying the glass in his hand, walked bare-footed to Sir Denis’s door to find out.

His door was open—and even in the dim light Brian could see that the bed was unoccupied. There was no light in the living-room.

He stood for a moment, hesitating. Then went out to the lobby.

The door of the suite was unlocked!

In view of what Nayland Smith had told him earlier that night, and of Sir Denis’s insistence that the door must always be locked and bolted at night, this was more than puzzling. . ..

“We’re marked men! IfFu Manchu could trap either of us——”

He remembered the very words.

What was he to think?

Brian knew that he had dozed more than once, but if there had been any struggle it couldn’t have failed to arouse him.

And while he stood there in a state of hopeless indecision a sound came which confirmed all his fears. It came from the penthouse.

A pistol shot! ... A second ... a third! Then—a muffled explosion, which shook the apartment!

Brian ran back to the living-room, spilling beer as he went.

He switched the light on, set the glass down and crossed to the penthouse phone. . . . Before his hand touched it the instrument began to buzz!

As he took it up: “That you, Merrick?” came Nayland Smith’s snappy voice.

“Yes. What’s happened? Shall I come up?”

“No. Stay where you are. Dr. Hessian called me an hour ago. He had decided upon a test experiment. It was successful. Probably have most of the residents of the Babylon-Lido phoning like mad! Turn in. All’s well.”

And Sir Denis hung up.

Brian wondered if he should obey orders and lock the outer door; decided against it, and went back to bed. . . .