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Updated: June 7, 2025
Silently I watched her. Why was I silent? why did I not warn Smith of the presence of one of Dr. Fu-Manchu's servants? I cannot explain, although later, the strangeness of my behavior may become in some measure understandable. Zarmi raised her hand, beckoning to me, then stepped back, revealing the presence of a companion, hitherto masked by the dense shadows that lay under the arches.
I was peering down at Fu-Manchu's servant, the hideous yellow man who lay dead in a bower of elm leaves. "He has some kind of leather bag beside him," I began. "Exactly!" rapped Smith. "In that he carried his dangerous instrument of death; from that he released it!" "Released what?" "What your fascinating friend came to recapture this morning." "Don't taunt me, Smith!" I said bitterly.
We were both silent for some moments; then: "What do you propose to do?" I asked. "We must not let Fu-Manchu's servants know," replied Smith, "but to-night I shall conceal myself in Slattin's house and remain there for a week or a day it matters not how long until that attempt is repeated. Quite obviously, Petrie, we have overlooked something which implicates the murderer with the murder!
"Since, probably owing to the absence of any moon, a mistake was made" his jaw hardened at the thought of poor Forsyth "another attempt along the same lines will almost certainly follow you know Fu-Manchu's system?" So in the darkness, expectant, we sat watching the group of nine elms.
For one delirious moment her bewitching face was close to mine, and the dictates of madness almost ruled; but I clenched my teeth and turned sharply aside. I could not trust myself to speak. With Fu-Manchu's marmoset again gamboling before us, she walked through the curtained doorway into the room beyond.
Karamaneh raised a curtain draped before a doorway, and stood listening intently for a moment. The silence was unbroken. Then something stirred amid the wilderness of cushions, and two tiny bright eyes looked up at me. Peering closely, I succeeded in distinguishing, crouched in that soft luxuriance, a little ape. It was Dr. Fu-Manchu's marmoset. "This way," whispered Karamaneh.
"She is either Fu-Manchu's daughter, his wife, or his slave. I am inclined to believe the last, for she has no will but his will, except" with a quizzical glance "in a certain instance." "How can you jest with some awful thing Heaven knows what hanging over your head? What is the meaning of these perfumed envelopes? How did Sir Crichton die?" "He died of the Zayat Kiss.
I shuddered violently, for, without Smith's words, I knew that a bloody deed had been done in that house within a few yards of where we stood. In the new silence, I could hear the drip, drip, drip of the rain outside the window; then a steam siren hooted dismally upon the river, and I thought how the screw of that very vessel, even as we listened, might be tearing the body of Fu-Manchu's servant!
Smith had not noticed the perfume worn by the unseen occupant of the car, had not detected the whispered words. But I had no reason to doubt my senses, and I knew beyond question that Fu-Manchu's lovely slave, Karamaneh, had been within a yard of us, had recognized us, and had uttered those words for our guidance.
"Love in the East," he had said, "is like the conjurer's mango-tree; it is born, grows and flowers at the touch of a hand." Now, in those pleading eyes I read confirmation of his words. Her clothes or her hair exhaled a faint perfume. Like all Fu-Manchu's servants, she was perfectly chosen for her peculiar duties. Her beauty was wholly intoxicating. But I thrust her away.
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