Re-enter Dr Fu Manchu

three years ago. Well, as I said, there was a disturbance in the household—and an unpleasant change for me. I was transferred to a room in the cellar. Unmistakably a dungeon, belonging to the days when the old house had been the palace of some wealthy pasha!

“Merrick! I all but lost hope! Two ofFu Manchu’s thugs had been left behind to guard me, and I expected from hour to hour they would get word to finish me off! My only exercise was walking about the cellar. And the nights were dreadful. I suspected, but couldn’t confirm the suspicion, that some kind of murder machine was installed in my cell.

“Then, one night a queer thing happened. I was roused by a faint noise outside my locked door. I thought my time had come! Alight shone through the grille, and I called out, ‘Who’s there?’ The light vanished. Complete silence. Nothing happened . . . until the next day.

“Neither of the assassins brought me my breakfast. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. Hours passed. No one came. I asked myself was I doomed to starve to death! But early next morning a party of Egyptian police, accompanied by Nigel Richardson of the British Embassy, and Lyman Bostock, his American opposite number, burst into the cellar.”

“How had they traced you?” Brian demanded excitedly.

“Top marks to your F.B.I., Merrick. My understudy (then arrived in New York), had excited the suspicion of one of their brightest under-cover agents. A code message reached Bostock. It asked for a secret examination to be made of the house of the Sherif—not neglecting the cellars! A tall order. How the devil they arranged it I don’t know; and they both laughed when I asked them. But I remembered the light through the grille of my cell. Anyway, they succeeded in getting a search warrant. And I can assure you that getting that warrant must have taken a lot of doing! . . . The place was deserted. Not a soul in the building . . . except myself! The Sherif had got wind of the thing and pushed off in a hurry with his entire household, including, I was told, several ladies and a fat eunuch. When I heard of the astonishing deception to which Richardson and Bostock had been made parties I knew that not another hour must be wasted. Both wanted the impostor arrested by the New York police at once. I disagreed.

“I made them see that the arch-conspirator would slip through our fingers. We must find out first the purpose of this amazing plot—which was what the F.B.I, wanted to know, too. Then, we’d have the whole gang in the bag.”

“What I don’t understand,” Brian declared, “is why they left you alive.”

Nayland Smith smiled grimly. “Because somebody blundered—or got cold feet. My cell (as I suspected) was fitted with the brain-blasting equipment, and for purposes of concealing evidence, there was a man-sized bath of curious construction in another room which was intended to contain acid:

something had thrown the gang into a panic, and these little arrangements, by the mercy of Providence, were overlooked at the last moment.”

“Tell me one thing, Sir Denis. By what accident did I get into the picture and why?”

“Not by accident, I assure you! Fu Manchu already had me in his hands, and no doubt his agents were combing likely spots for a young, unemployed American with an influential background, to make doubly sure of my understudy’s acceptance. You were the very man. The F.B.I, had operatives in London (I don’t know why), and they found out that you had been employed by a Communist group, but were ordered not to interfere. Washington had no idea what was brewing, but thought that you, as an innocent accomplice, might come up later with some useful information.”

“You mean”—Brian flushed indignantly—”that I was allowed to walk blindfolded into this thing?”

“I mean that, yes. And don’t glare at me! I had nothing to do with it. What’s more, it’s been done before. You see, Merrick, if you had known, you’d have betrayed yourself. Under-cover espionage isn’t your metier. How well it has worked out you can see for yourself. They are quite sure of you, and so we have the game in our hands.”

Brian lighted a cigarette, but said nothing.

“Well,” Nayland Smith went on, ‘I got my own way and was smuggled out of Cairo. I travelled as Major S. D. Smith, wore a toothbrush moustache and a monocle. Not a word was allowed to leak out about the raid on the Sherif’s house. All the same, the Si-Fan got the news. When I arrived at Idlewild, at five-thirty this afternoon, I was met by the F.B.I. Their star operative, already a member of the Communist party, had managed, by what I can only call a stroke of genius, to become a top executive of the Si-Fan! Every detail of my projected execution was known!

“First, you had to be kept away until it was all over. Second, as it was assumed that I should apply for a spare key and walk right up to the suite reserved in my name (exactly what I had planned to do), my double had orders to go out.”

“Yes?” Brian was getting excited. “What happened?”

“A tactical move by the F.B.I, worthy of Napoleon. My double’s orders were to slip around to a back entrance, go up in the service elevator and return to the suite. He had to unlock the communicating door and then take cover until I came in and had been liquidated. They managed to detain him long enough for me to come up first, open the door and lie low. When my wretched double appeared he got what was coming to me!”

“Do you mean to say the police and the F.B.I.suspected nothing right up to the time you were found in Cairo?”

“They accepted Nayland Smith the Second and Dr. Hessian as authentic. They still think Hessian is. They didn’t know where you fitted in. In other words, it was the discovery by their operative in London that you had been employed by a Red agent which sparked the inquiry!” Sir Denis glanced at his watch. “And now I must be off. . . . Don’t look so desperate, Merrick! I’m well briefed, and”—he tapped a coat pocket— “prepared for anything. Stand by. . . .”

Chapter

16

Dr. Fu Manchu sat at the long table in the room without windows when Nayland Smith came in. “Sit down,” he ordered. “I have much to say to you.”

Nayland Smith sat down in a chair on the other side of the table. He found that whilst Fu Manchu’s face remained in shadow, his own was brightly lighted. As of old, he experienced a tingling of the scalp whenever he came into contact with the force which seemed to proceed from this evil superman. He recalled the form of address which he had been told to use.

“At your service, Excellency.”

Fu Manchu watched him. A stray beam of light touched the green eyes. Their regard was hard to sustain.

“You had done well, William Hailsham,” the sibilant voice continued, “until I had to warn you that your prototype had escaped death and was on his way. Your behaviour in face of danger disappointed me. I asked myself if I had rescued a cur from a Soviet labour camp for this!” The strange voice hissed the last word. “Your political views terminated your career as an actor. Your arrogance offended even your Communist employers. I, alone, offered you a way to speedy fortune, security”

Nayland Smith remained silent. Dr. Fu Manchu took a pinch of snuff.

“I am too closely tied to this project. I had hoped to bring with me what you would term a ‘stand-in’ for Dr. Hessian as you are ‘stand-in’ for Nayland Smith. Unfortunately, certain surgical treatment proved unsatisfactory at the last moment. Therefore, my personal presence, although necessary, is dangerous.”

He closed the lid of the silver snuff-box.

“The first crisis is over. Those responsible shall pay a heavy price. There is only one Nayland Smith—yourself. But, falter tonight . . . and there will be no Nayland Smith.” He passed his hand over his high brow. “I regret the necessity.

Physically, you might have been twins. But there the likeness ends. Had the real Nayland Smith been not my enemy but my ally, I should sit today on the throne of an empire greater than Rome ever knew. . . . Listen.”

And Nayland Smith listened intently.

“The entire routine for tonight is changed. You handled the premature appearance of that impetuous fool, Merrick, very well. You seemed to have recovered your nerve—for you had no more than locked the communicating door when he arrived. I have not lost hope that you may carry off the situation tonight.”