Tony understood. He was to listen closely.
“My undivided attention is at your disposal. Excellency.”
“A man calling himself Wu Chi Foh, who is a dangerous spy, escaped from the jail at Chia-Ting and was later reported to be near Lung Chang. He may carry vital information dangerous to the Peiping regime.” Fu Manchu’s voice became a hiss. “I suggest that you may have news of Wu Chi Foh.”
Lao Tse-Mung’s expression remained bland, unmoved.
“I can only assure Excellency that I have no news concerning this Wu Chi Foh. Are you suggesting that I am acquainted with this man?”
Dr. Fu Manchu’s voice rose on a note of anger. “Your record calls for investigation. As a former high official, you have been allowed privileges. I merely suggest that you have abused them.”
“My attention remains undivided. Excellency. I beg you to make your meaning clearer.”
Tony knew that his fate, and perhaps the fate of Lao Tse-Mung, hung in the balance. He knew, too, that he could never have fenced with such an adversary as Fu Manchu, under the X-ray scrutiny of those green eyes, with the imperturbable serenity of the old Mandarin.
“Subversive elements frequent your house.”
“The news distresses me.” Lao Tse-Mung took up a hammer which hung beside a small gong. “Permit me to assemble my household for your inspection.”
“Wait.” The word was spoken imperatively. “There are matters I have to discuss with
Lao Tse-Mung smiled. His smile was directed toward Tony, whom his keen eyes had detected through the cover of leaves.
“I am sufficiently old-fashioned to prefer the ways of life of my ancestors, but sufficiently up-to-date to appreciate the convenience of modern transport.” Lao Tse-Mung calmly took another pinch of snuff, smiling his sly smile. “I may add that in addition to chairs and rickshaws, I have also several automobiles. We are a long way from the railhead. Excellency, and some of my guests come from distant provinces.”
“I wish to inspect this airfield. Also, the garage.”
“It will be an honor and a great joy to conduct you. Let us first visit the airstrip, which is some little distance from the house. Then, as you wish, we can visit the garage. Your own car is there at present. And, as the garage is near the entrance gate, and I know Excellency’s time is valuable”—the shrewd old eyes were staring straight into Tony’s through the darkness—
This statement was astonishing to Tony for several reasons. First, that its ingenuous simplicity would disarm any man, even Dr. Fu Manchu. Second, because it was a veiled suggestion that the visitor was not welcome. Third, because it was unmistakably a direct order to
He accepted it.
Silently, he slipped away from the lighted window, back along the terrace, and then began to run headlong down the slope to the gate lodge.
Old Mai Cha was standing in her doorway.
“Quick, Mother! Get Yueh Hua! There’s not a minute to spare—”
“She has already gone, Chi Foh.”
“Gone!” He stood before her, stricken—unable to understand.
“Yes, Chi Foh. But she is safe. You will see her again very soon. She has taken all you brought with you in your bundles. You know they are in good keeping.”
He grasped Mai Cha by the shoulders, drawing her close, peering into her face. Her love for Moon Flower he couldn’t doubt. But what was she hiding?
“Is this true, Mai Cha?”
“I swear it, in the name of my father, Chi Foh. I can tell you no more, except that my orders are to lead you to the garage. A car is waiting. You roust hurry—for Yueh Hua’s sake—and for your own, Please follow me.”
Even in that moment of danger, of doubt, he was struck by the fact that she showed no surprise, only a deep concern. She seemed to be expecting this to happen. She was no longer an emotional old woman. She was controlled, practical.
A long, gently sloping path, tree-shadowed, which he knew must run parallel to the wall beside nearly a mile of which he and Moon Rower had tramped before coming to the gate, led them to a tiled yard upon which a lighted garage opened. One car, a sleek Rolls, showing no lights, stood in the yard. He saw two other cars in the garage beyond.
Mai Cha opened a door of the Rolls, and Tony tumbled in. She kissed his hand as he closed the door. In light from the garage behind he saw the back of a driver, a broad-shouldered Chinese with a shaven skull. The car was started. Smoothly, they moved out of the paved yard.
“Thank God, you’re safe, McKay,” came a snappy voice.
The driver was Nayland Smith!
Chapter XI
“Don’t worry about Lao Tse-Mung, McKay. He has the guile of the serpent and the heart of a great patriot. He could convince men like you and me that night is day that a duck is a swan. He called me an hour ago, and all’s well. This isn’t his first brush with The Master, and my money was on Tse-Mung all along. By the way what about another drink?”
Tony grinned feebly, watching Nayland Smith mix drinks. It was hard to relax, even now; to accept the fact that, temporarily, he was in safety. He glanced down at a clean linen suit which had taken the place of his Chinese costume and wondered afresh at the efficient underground network of which he had become a member.
This charming bungalow on a hill overlooking Chungking was the property of the great English drug house of Roberts & Benson and was reserved for the use of their chief buyer. Ray Jenkins, who operated from the firm’s office in the town. As Nayland Smith handed him a glass:
“You’ll like Jenkins,” Sir Denis rapped in his staccato fashion. “Sound man. And what he doesn’t know about opium, even Dr. Fu Manchu couldn’t teach him. He buys only the best, and Chungking is the place to get it.
He dropped into a split-cane chair and began to fill his pipe. He wore a well-cut linen suit and would have looked his familiar self but for the shaven skull. Noting Tony’s expression, he laughed his boyish laugh.
“I know I’m better dressed than you are, McKay because this is my own suit. Yours is borrowed from Jenkins’s wardrobe.”
Tony laughed, too, and was glad that he could manage it; for, in spite of Mat Cha’s assurance, he was desperately worried about Moon Flower. And inquiries were out of the question.
“I can only thank you again. Sir Denis, for all you have done.”
“Forget it, McKay. The old lama is one of ours, and he had orders to look out for you. Your last message had warned me that you expected to be arrested and I notified him. Then, I put Lao Tse-Mung in charge until I arrived.”
“This is amazing. Sir Denis. I begin to hope that China will shake off the Communists yet.”
Nayland Smith nodded grimly; lighted his pipe. “From my point of view, there are certain advantages in our recognition of the Peiping crowd. For instance, I can travel openly in China—but I avoid Szechuan.”
“How right you are!”
“Lao Tse-Mung, of course, is our key man in the province. Job calls for enormous courage, and something like genius. He has both. He master-minded the whole affair of getting you out of jail. The Lama, who has more degrees than you could count on all your fingers, gave you your instructions. He speaks and writes perfect English. Also, he has contacts inside the jail.”
“That’s what I call efficiency!”
“We’re not washed up yet in the East, McKay.”
“So it seems.”
Nayland Smith tugged at the lobe of his ear, a trick Tony knew to indicate deep reflection. “If Fu Manchu can enlist the anti-Communist elements,” he said, “the control of this vast country may pass into his hands. This would pose another problem . . . But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. This bungalow is one of our bases. It was here that I converted myself into a lama before proceeding farther. Jenkins provided me with a vintage Ford—a useful bus on Chinese roads. You see, McKay, there’s constant coming and going of Buddhist priests across the
