Emperor Fu-Manchu (17 page)

Nayland Smith and Tony had adopted the dress of members of the professional class, and Moon Flower was a girl again—Sir Denis’s daughter. The house in Chia-Ting belonged to a cousin of the lama, a prosperous physician and a fervent anti-Communist.

But this evening, Tony was worried.

Nayland Smith and his “daughter” had traced, at last, the house in which Shun-Hi, former servant of Dr. Cameron-Gordon, was living. Moon Flower’s memory of its location was rather hazy. They had gone to interview Shun-Hi.

And although dusk was near, they had not returned.

Sir Denis had insisted that until the time for action came, Tony must not show himself unnecessarily in Chia-Ting. Too many people knew him, and the reward for his arrest would stimulate recognition.

He still had little more than a vague idea of Nayland Smith’s plan. That the girl, Shun-Hi, was a link with Moon Flower’s father he saw clearly. But he saw no connection, whatever, between this visit and Dr. Cameron-Gordon’s release from Dr. Fu-Manchu. But if anyone could free the imprisoned scientist, Nayland Smith was the man.

Just before his anxiety became unendurable, Tony saw Moon Flower and Sir Denis making for the door below. They had a girl with them whom he guessed to be Shun-Hi, and a few moments later all three came into the room.

Nayland Smith looked elated. “Our luck holds, McKay. Here’s a useful recruit. Sit down, Shun-Hi. We have a lot to talk about.”

Shun-Hi, a good-looking working-class girl, smiled happily at Moon Flower and sat down. Moon Flower sat beside her, an encouraging arm thrown around Shun-Hi’s shoulders, as Nayland Smith began to fill his pipe.

“Is your father well, Yueh Hua?” Tony asked.

Moon Flower nodded. “Yes, but desperately unhappy.”

“Shun-Hi,” Sir Denis explained, “speaks remarkably good English. So now, Shun-Hi, I want to ask you some questions. You tell me that your old employer, the doctor, works in a laboratory in the garden but sleeps in the house. How large is this laboratory?”

“It is…” Shun-Hi hesitated… “like four of this room in a row… so.” She extended her hands.

“A long, low building. I see. And where’s the door?”

“One at each end. From the door at the far end there is a path to a gate. But the gate is always locked.”

“And inside?”

“No one is allowed inside. Sometimes, I carry a tray down for the doctor. His lunch. But I put it on the ledge of a window and he takes it in. This was how I got Miss Yueh Hua’s message to him and got his reply back.”

“Does he work alone there?”

“Yes. Except when a Japanese from the hospital comes, or when the Master is there. The Master spends many hours inside this place.”

“And when the window is opened, what can you see?”

“Only a very small room, with a table and some chairs.”

“Does Dr. Cameron-Gordon work there late?”

“I don’t know. He is always there when I leave in the evening.”

“Does he never go outside the walls?”

“No.”

“When he leaves the laboratory, what is to prevent him from walking out by one of the gates?”

“They are always locked, except when visitors come. Then a gate porter opens them. There is a small door in the wall used by the staff. It is opened for us when we arrive and again when we leave.”

Moon Flower smiled. “That was the door, Shun-Hi, I watched until I saw you come out one evening. Do you remember?”

Shun-Hi turned her head and affectionately kissed the hand resting on her shoulder.

“Is Huan Tsung-Chao a good master?” Nayland Smith asked.

“Yes. He is kind to us all.”

“But you would rather be with Dr. Cameron-Gordon again?”

“Oh, yes!”

“And the Master, do you have much to do with him when he is there?”

“No.” Shun-Hi spoke shudderingly. “I should be afraid to go near him.”

“Tell me, Shun-Hi,” Sir Denis said, “is any watch kept in the gardens at night?”

“I don’t know. I am never there at night. But I don’t think so. It is just a summer house where his Excellency comes for a rest.”

Nayland Smith nodded. “Do you take a tray to Dr. Cameron-Gordon every day?”

“Oh, no. Some days one of the other girls is sent.”

“And does the same girl bring it back?”

“As a rule, yes. The doctor leaves it on the ledge. But the day I gave him the message, he waited until I came to return the tray and give me the reply.”

Nayland Smith pulled at the lobe of his ear, thoughtfully. “So that if we gave you another message for Dr. Cameron-Gordon, it might be several days before you could deliver it?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. That complicates matters.”

Tony, who had listened to every word, broke in at this point. “It only means, Sir Denis, a few days more delay.”

“Perhaps. But Fu-Manchu is merely a bird of passage in Szechuan. He may move on at any time. I have no idea in what way he’s employing Cameron-Gordon’s special knowledge. But as it’s obviously of some value to Fu-Manchu, when one goes, the other goes with him.”

Moon Flower’s eyes opened widely. “Oh, I couldn’t bear it. We are so near to him—and yet—”

“We have to face facts, Jeanie,” Sir Denis said. “Even if we’re given our chance, it may not come off. But I have a strong conviction that if we make no mistakes it will.”

* * *

At a glass-topped table a man whose iron-gray hair, fresh complexion and closely trimmed gray moustache leant him something of the look of a Scottish sergeant-major, bent over a powerful microscope. He wore a white linen jacket, the scientist’s field uniform. Whatever he was studying absorbed all his attention.

A faint sound made by an opening door failed to distract him.

The tall man who had entered, also in white, stood silent, watching.

Without removing his eye from the instrument, the student scribbled something on a pad which lay near his hand. He looked a while longer, then, standing up and completing the note he had made, sat down and turned to a globular lamp-glass, the top closed with cotton wool, standing in a Petri dish. Several sheets of damp filter paper lay in the bottom. He took up a lens and stared intently into the glass globe.

“I see, Doctor,” came a sibilant voice from the shadowed doorway, “you are studying my new sandflies.”

“Yes.” The man addressed didn’t even glance aside.

“Are you satisfied?”

“Yes. But you won’t be.”

“Why?”

“They are not absorbing the virus.”

“It is fed to them.”

“It is here, on the filter papers. But they reject it.” He looked up for the first time. Light blue eyes blazed under shaggy eyebrows. “For your own filthy purpose, these new imports are useless.”

Fu-Manchu walked slowly into the room, stood over the seated man, and smiled his icy smile.

“Your mulish obstinacy in ignoring my high purpose begins to annoy me.” He spoke softly. “You are well aware of the fact that I do not strike at random. Only the guilty suffer. You persist in confusing my aims with those of the Communist fools who wrecked your mission hospital. You presume to classify my work with that of the ignorant, power-drunk demagogues who have forced their way into the Kremlin.”

“Your methods are much the same.”

There was a moment of tense silence, broken only by a rhythmic throbbing in the adjoining room. Fu-Manchu’s clenched hands relaxed.

“You forget that I saved you from the mob who burned your home.”

“By arresting me and making me a prisoner here. It was you who inspired the mob—for that purpose alone.”

Fu-Manchu’s voice was coldly calm when he spoke again. “Dr. Cameron-Gordon, I respect your knowledge. I respect your courage. But I cannot respect your blindness to the fact that our ideals are identical. My methods in achieving them are beyond your understanding. Be good enough to leave your work for an hour. I wish to talk to you.”

“When I undertake a thing, though I may loathe it, I carry it out. My work here is not finished.”

“You are dedicated to your studies, Doctor. That is why I admire you. Please come with me.”

Dr. Cameron-Gordon shrugged his shoulders and stood up. He followed the tall figure to the room at the end of the long, low building which Fu-Manchu used as a rest room, sat down in a comfortable chair. Fu-Manchu opened a closet.

“May I offer you a Scotch and soda, Doctor?”

“Thank you, no.” Cameron-Gordon sniffed. “But I have no objection to your smoking a pipe of opium. If you smoke enough the world will soon be rid of you.”

Dr. Fu-Manchu smiled his mirthless smile. “If I told you for how many years I have used opium, you would not believe me. Opium will not rid the world of me.”

He closed the closet and sat down on the couch.

“That’s a pity,” Cameron-Gordon commented dryly.

Fu-Manchu took a pinch of snuff, then pressed the tips of his fingers together. “I have tried many times, since you have been my guest—” Cameron-Gordon made a snorting sound—“to enlighten you concerning the aims of the Si-Fan. I have told you of the many distinguished men who work for the Order—”

“You mean who are slaves of the Order.”

“I mean convinced and enthusiastic members. It is unavoidable, Doctor, if the present so-called civilization is not to perish, that some intellectual group, such as that which I mention, should put an end to the pretensions of the gang of impudent impostors who seek to create a Communist world. This done, the rest is easy. And the Si-Fan can do this.”

“So you have told me. But your methods of doing it don’t appeal to me. My experience with the Si-Fan isn’t exactly encouraging.”

Fu-Manchu continued calmly. “I have no desire to use coercion. Without difficulty, and by purely scientific means, I could exact your obedience.”

“You mean you could drug me?”

“It would be simple. But it is a method which, in the case of a delicately adjusted brain such as yours, might impair your work. As I wish you to continue your researches during my absence, I have been thinking that your daughter—”

Cameron-Gordon came to his feet at a bound, fists clenched and fighting mad. In two strides he stood over Dr. Fu-Manchu.

“By God! speak another word of that threat and I’ll strangle you with my bare hands!”

Fu-Manchu did not stir. He remained perfectly still, his lids half-towered over his strange eyes.

“I made no threat,” he said softly. “I was thinking that your daughter would be left unprovided for if any rash behavior on your part should make her an orphan.”

“In other words, unless I submit to you, I shall be liquidated.”

“I did not say so. You can join the Si-Fan whenever you wish. You will enjoy complete freedom. You can practice any form of religion which may appeal to you. Your place of residence will be of your own choosing. Your daughter can live with you. All that I shall call upon you to do will be to carry out certain experiments. Their purpose will not concern you. My object is to crush Communism. You can help me to attain that goal.”

Cameron-Gordon’s clenched hands relaxed. Dr. Fu-Manchu’s sophistry had not deceived him, but it had made him reflect.

“Thanks for the explanation,” he said dourly. “I’ll be thinking it over. Perhaps I can get back to my work, now?”

“By all means, Doctor.” Fu-Manchu raised drooping lids and gave him a brief, piercing, green-eyed glance. “Return to your experiment.”

I
t was early next morning when Nayland Smith and Tony joined the stream of workers, many of them silk weavers, pouring through the narrow streets. Tony wore thick-rimmed glasses, a sufficient disguise. Shun-Hi hurried along ahead, and they kept her in sight.

On the outskirts of the town she was joined by two companions, evidently fellow servants. After, passing a large factory into which the crowd of workers was finally absorbed, they came to the country road leading to the summer villa of Huan Tsung-Chao. Sir Denis, Tony, and the three girls ahead of them were now all that remained of the former throng.

“Drop back a bit,” Nayland Smith cautioned. “Those other girls might think we’re following them from amorous motives.” He grabbed Tony’s arm. “In here!”

They stepped through an opening in a cactus hedge and found a path parallel to the road which bordered a large field of poppies.

“God!” Tony exclaimed. “What a crop!”

“The Reds have certainly stepped up the opium trade,” Nayland Smith remarked.

They went ahead, guided by the girls’ voices, and when these grew faint, they came out again onto the road. Shun-Hi and her friends had turned into a side path. Tony caught a glimpse of the three figures just before they were lost in the shadows of a cypress grove.

“We must chance it,” Nayland Smith muttered. “Have to keep them in sight. I want a glimpse of this staff entrance Shun-Hi and Jeanie mentioned.”

They had gone all of another mile before they saw the roof of a large house gleaming in the morning sun. It stood in the middle of what was evidently a considerable estate, and the narrow lane along which the girls were now hurrying was bordered by a high wall.

They had drawn up closer to the three.

“There’s the entrance,” Tony exclaimed suddenly. “They’re just going in.”