“Neither card means anything,” said Smith grimly. He turned to me. “This grey-haired aristocrat, Kerrigan, seems to play important parts in Fu Manchu’s present drama. I detect a marked resemblance to that Count Boratov who was a guest of Brownlow Wilton, and of course you have recognized Miss Pereira?”
I nodded but did not speak.
“Don’t make heavy weather of it, Kerrigan. Ardatha is in the toils—this task was her punishment.”
He walked across to the wretched man sunk in the armchair and rested his hand upon his shoulder.
“May I take it that you usually carry the missing portfolio?”
The commissioner nodded.
“From my house to Scotland Yard every day, and to important conferences.”
“The Si-Fan had noted this. After all, you are officially their chief enemy in London. I suggest that the duplicate portfolio has been in existence for some time. Tonight an occasion arose for its use. Judging from my own experience, farsighted plans of this character have been made with regard to many notable enemies of the Si-Fan.”
Sir William was watching him almost hopefully.
‘To illustrate my meaning,” Smith went on, “they have duplicate keys of my flat!”
“What!”
“It’s a fact,” I interpolated; “I have seen the keys used myself.”
“Exactly.” Smith nodded. “They even succeeded in installing a special radio in my premises. It would not surprise me to learn that they have a key to Number 10 Downing Street. You must appreciate the fact, Bard, that this organization, once confined to the East, now has its ramifications throughout the West. It is of old standing and has among its members, as the missing documents proved, prominent figures in Europe and the United States. Its financial backing is enormous. Its methods are ruthless. Your car, immediately following the pretended accident, was of course surrounded by a crowd.”
“It was.”
“Those members nearest to the door from which you jumped were servants of the Si-Fan and one of them carried the duplicate portfolio. He was no doubt an adept in his particular province. The substitution was not difficult. The address to which you took Miss Pereira was a block of flats?”
“Yes.”
“Inquiry is useless. She does not live there.”
“Smith!” Sir William Bard sprang up. “Your reconstruction of what took place is perfect—except in one particular. I recall the fact clearly now that Doctor Atkin carried a similar portfolio! The substitution was effected during the short drive to Buckingham Gate!”
“H’m!” Smith glanced at me. “Count Boratov would seem to be a distinct asset to the doctor’s forces!”
“But what can we do?” groaned the commissioner. “Lacking the authority of those damning signatures, we dare not take action.”
“I agree.”
“We can watch these people whose names we have learnt, but it will be necessary to obtain new evidence against them before we can move a finger in such high places.”
“Certainly. But at least we are warned . . . and I may not be too late to save their next victim. We cannot hope to win every point!”
We returned to Nayland Smith’s flat in a flying squad car and two men were detailed to remain on duty in the lobby. Only by a perceptible tightening of Fey’s lips did I recognize the mighty relief which he experienced when he saw us.
He had nothing to report. Smith laughed aloud when he saw me looking at a freshly painted patch on the front door.
“My new lock, Kerrigan!” The merriment in his eyes was good to see. Something of my own burden seemed to be lifted from my shoulders by it. “The lock was fitted under my own supervision, by a locksmith known to me personally. It’s a nuisance to open, being somewhat complicated. But once I am in I think I’m safe!”
In the familiar room with photographs of his old friends about him, he relaxed at last, dropping down into an armchair with a sigh of contentment.
“If there is any place in the civilized world where you would really be safe, a month’s rest would do you good, Smith.”
He stared at me. Already he was groping for his pipe.
“Can any man rest till his task is finished?” he asked quietly. “I doubt it. Since Doctor Fu Manchu has tricked all the normal laws of life—will my task ever end?”
Fey served drinks and silently retired.
“I had a bad shock tonight. Smith,” I said awkwardly. “Ardatha was instrumental in the theft of the commissioner’s portfolio.”
Smith nodded, busily filling his pipe.
“She had no choice,” he snapped. “As I said at the time it was her punishment. At least she was not concerned in a murder, Kerrigan. Probably she had to succeed or die. I wonder if this really remarkable achievement has reinstated the doctor in the eyes of the Council.”
“Is it a fact. Smith, that the names of the Council were actually in your possession?”
“Yes. Some I had suspected, nor would their identity convey anything to the public. But three of the Seven are as well known to the world as Bernard Shaw. Even to me those names came as a surprise. But lacking the written evidence, as the commissioner says, we dare not move. Ah well! The doctor has obtained a firm footing in the Western world since he first began operating from Limehouse.”
He took up a bundle of letters which Fey had placed on a table near the armchair. He tossed them all aside until presently he came upon one at which he frowned queerly.
“Hello!” he murmured, “what’s this?”
He examined the writing, the post office stamp—and finally tore open the envelope. He glanced at the single sheet of paper which it contained. His face remained quite motionless as he bent forward and passed it to me . . .
I stared, and my heart missed a beat as I read:
First notice
The Council of Seven of the Si-Fan has decided that you are an obstruction to its policy. Its present purpose being the peace of the world, a purpose to which no sane man can be opposed, you are given a choice of two courses. Remain in London tonight and the Council guarantees your safety and will communicate with you by telephone.
We are prepared for an honorable compromise. Leave, and you will receive a second notice.
PRESIDENT OF THE COUNCIL
I don’t know why these words written in a square heavy hand, on thick paper embossed with a Chinese hieroglyphic, should so have chilled me, but they did. It was no novelty for Nay land Smith to go in peril of his life, but knowing its record, frankly the dictum of the Council of Seven touched me with an icy hand.
“What do they mean. Smith, about leaving London?” I asked in a hoarse voice. “I suspected some new move when you spoke to the commissioner about saving the next victim.”
“Marcel Delibes, the French statesman, has received two warnings. Copies were among the papers I found in Lord Weimer’s house!”
“Well?”
“You may also recall that I promised to tell you when Doctor Fu Manchu ceased to be president?”
“Yes.”
“He has ceased to be president!”
“How can you possibly know?”
He held up the first notice.
“Doctor Fu Manchu’s delicate sense of humor would never permit him to do such a thing! Surely you realize, Kerrigan, that this means I am safe until the second notice arrives?”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I have made arrangements to leave for Paris tonight. Gallaho is coming, and—”
“So am I!”
Blue Carnations
“This is the sort of atmosphere in which Doctor Fu Manchu finds himself at home!”