"But... is this possible? "
"You have seen it in full operation." he answered. "Rima was given hypnotic orders to go to her room for a scent-spray. She obeyed. That was when, from my post in the Chinese cabinet, I heard her hurry upstairs. She brought the spray, opened the window-- I heard her--and gave it to Fah Lo Suee-- whose name, by the way, means 'Sweet Perfume'. It was emptied, recharged and returned to her. She reclosed the window... having received those detailed post-hypnotic instructions which we have seen her carry out to-night. "
"But--my bewilderment was increasing --"I spoke to her after this! I even asked why she had fetched the scent-spray, and she said she had detected a sickly smell--like decaying leaves--and thought it would freshen the air."
Tart other orders!" he rapped. "Next, she was instructed to go to bed and sleep until midnight; then to spray me with the contents --which I preserved for analysis and replaced with water!--and then to remove all traces-- as we know she did do! My dear fellow, Rima is utterly unaware that she has played this part... and doubtless it would have been an easy death! "
"You mean,when she wakes, she will know nothing about now--"
"Nothing whatever! Unless, perhaps, as in Petrie's case, the memory of a troubled dream. However, I have hopes... if my Morse orders were promptly obeyed. "
"You mean your signal to Weymouth?"
He nodded, and:
"The 'gypsies,'" he rapped.
"What!" "Three are dacoits--one posing as an old hag! The Toy of the party is Fah Lo Suee!"
Chapter Eleventh
DR. AMBER
"I can't blame myself," said Weymouth, staring disconsolately out of the window. "She's slipped through our fingers again. A real chip of the old block," he added. "It took a load off my mind, after the Limehouse raid, to hear that Nayland Smith had seen Fu Manchu himself, in person, in Paris--and lost him!..."
The "gypsy" caravan behind the big plan- tation which formed a western boundary to Sir Lionel's Norfolk place had been seized by a party of constabulary under Weymouth's command--and had proved to be empty. This had happened three days before, but it still rankled in the superintendent's mind.
"I can't hang on here indefinitely," he explained, "I'm badly needed in Cairo at the moment. The disappearance of Sir Denis and yourself was the real excuse for my leave, but now...."
His point was clear enough. Weymouth was a staunch friend, but he loved his job. He had come to England in pursuit of a clue which suggested that Nayland Smith and I had been smuggled into Europe. We were found. Duty called him back.
"It isn't your present job, I admit," said I; "but it's the tail end of an old one, after all!"
He turned and stared at me across the room. I was back at the Park Avenue looking after a hundred and one interests of the chief's which centred in London. He, with Rima, remained in Norfolk--where, now that Nayland Smith had left, he might count on peace. Of Nayland Smith's present move- ments I knew nothing.
"You've hit it!" Weymouth admitted. "I'd like to be in at the death."
Certainly it was a queer situation for him --for all of us. Dr. Fu Manchu, most formidable of all those greater criminals who from time to time disturb the world, was alive ... and his daughter, no poor second to this stupendous genius, had already proved that she was competent to form subject of debate in the councils of the highest.
Weymouth's expression struck me as ominous; and:
"The death is likely to be that of Nayland Smith," I said, "judging from our experience at Abbots Hold."
Weymouth nodded.
"He stands between her and all she aims for," he replied. "He's countered two of her first three moves and he's promised me word within the next hour. But"--he stared at me very grimly--"you and I, Greville, know more about the group called the Si Fan than most people outside it."
I laughed--somewhat hollowly, perhaps.
"Get back to Cairo," I advised. "It's prob- ably safer than London at the moment--for you."
Weymouth's sense of humour on such points always failed him. His blue eyes hard- ened; he literally glared at me; and:
"I never ran away from Dr. Fu Manchu," he replied. "If you think I'm going to run away from his daughter you're wrong."
At that I laughed again, and this time my laughter rang true. I punched the speaker playfully.
"Don't you know when I'm pulling your leg?" I asked. "I'd put my last shilling on your being here, job or no job, until the end of this thing is clearly in sight! "
"Oh!" said Weymouth, his naive smile softening the hard mask which had fallen when I had suggested his retiring to Cairo. "Well, I don't think you'd lose your money."
But when he had gone, I took his place at the window and stared down on the panorama of Piccadilly. I was thinking of Nayland Smith.... "He stands between her and all she aims for."... How true that was!
Yes, he held most of the strings. Fah Lo Suee had started with a heavy handicap. Ibrahim Bey occupied a prison cell in Brixton Prison. He would be tried and duly sentenced for attempted robbery with violence. The public would never leam the whole truth. But Ibrahim Bey might be counted out of the running. The Egyptian authorities, working in concert with the French in Syria, were looking for Sheikh Ismail; and the Mandarin Ki Ming would have to hide very cleverly to escape the vigilance of those who had been advised of his aims....
My phone bell rang. I turned and took up the receiver.
"Yes? "
"Is Mr. Shan Greville there? "
"Speaking."
The voice--that of a man who spoke perfect English but who was not an Englishman--sounded tauntingly familiar.
"My name will be known to you, I believe, Mr. Greville. I am called Dr. Amber."
Dr. Amber! The mysterious physician whose treatment had restored Sir Lionel-- whom I had to thank for my own recovery! "Owing to peculiar circumstances, which I hope to explain to you, I have hitherto been able to help only in a rather irregular way," he went on. "Because of this--and of the imminent danger to which I am exposed--I must make a somewhat odd request." "What is it? "
"It is this: All I have to tell you is at your disposal. But you must promise to treat myself as non-existent. I have approached you in this way because the life of Sir Denis Nayland Smith is threatened--to-night! My record backs my assurance that this is a friendly overture. Have I your promise? "
"Yes--certainly! "
"Good. It will be a short journey, Mr. Greville--not three minutes' walk. I am staying at Babylon House, Piccadilly; Flat Number 7. May I ask you to step across? You have ample time before dinner." "I'll come right away."
Dr. Amber! Who was Dr. Amber? Where did he fit into this intricate puzzle which had sidetracked so many lives? Whoever he might be, he had shown himself a friend, and without hesitation, but fired by an intense curiosity, I set out for Babylon House--a block of service flats nearly opposite Burlington Arcade.
A lift-man took me to the top floor and indicated a door on the right.. I stepped up to it and rang the bell.
The elevator was already descending before the door opened... and I saw before me the Chinese physician who had attended me in that green and gold room in Lime-house! Fear--incredulity--anger all must have been readable in my expression, when:
"You gave me your promise, Mr. Greville," said the China man, smiling. "I give you mine, if it is necessary, that you are safe and with a friend. Please come in."
2
The typical and scanty appointments of the apartment into which I was shown possessed a reassuring quality. From a high window with a narrow balcony I could see the entrance to Burlington Arcade and part of one wall of the Albany.