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Updated: May 23, 2025
"I saw him!" he replied slowly; "and unless the effects of the anaesthetic had not wholly worn off ..." "Well!" I cried. "The man with the limp is Dr. Fu-Manchu!" "This box," said Mr. Meyerstein, bending attentively over the carven brass coffer upon the table, "is certainly of considerable value, and possibly almost unique." Nayland Smith glanced across at me with a slight smile. Mr.
Meyerstein," he said, "in this way: if I desire to place the box on the market, you shall have first refusal, and the same applies to the contents, if any. For the moment if you will send me a note of your fee, I shall be obliged." He raised his hand with a conclusive gesture. "I am not prepared to discuss the question of sale any further at present, Mr. Meyerstein."
"Does my memory mislead me," I interrupted, "or was it not regarding the possession of the chest to which you refer, that the celebrated case of 'Hague versus Jacobs' arose?" "You are quite right, Dr. Petrie," said Meyerstein, turning to me. "The original owner, a member of the Younghusband Expedition, had been unable to open the chest.
"Well, I'm coming along, too, general," Kent Pickering spoke up. "I made the damned thing, and I ought to be along when it's dropped, on the principle that a restaurant-proprietor ought to be seen eating his own food once in a while." "I still don't see why we couldn't have made at least one test shot, first," Hans Meyerstein, the Banking Cartel man, objected.
Lewison, whose flaxen hair and light blue eyes almost served to mask his Semitic origin, shrugged his shoulders in a fashion incongruous in one of his complexion, though characteristic in one of his name. "It is as you say, Mr. Meyerstein, an example of early Tûlun-Nûr work," he said. "It may be sixteenth century or even earlier.
Laviola and Meyerstein and Buhrmann were especially obsequious in seating von Schlichten in Sid Harrington's old chair, and in getting a chair for Paula Quinton. After awhile, the jumbled colors on the big screen resolved themselves into an image of Hideyoshi O'Leary, grinning like a pussycat beside an empty goldfish-bowl, licking its chops.
He accompanied them to the elevator, then turned to a telephone; when von Schlichten and Paula reached the office, everybody was crowded at the door to greet them: Themistocles M'zangwe, his arm in a sling; Hans Meyerstein, the Johannesburg lawyer, who seemed to have even more Bantu blood than the brigadier-general; Morton Buhrmann, the Commercial Superintendent; Laviola, the Fiscal Secretary; a dozen or so other officers and civil administrators.
With your permission I will endeavor to open it." Nayland Smith, tugging reflectively at the lobe of his left ear, stood looking at the expert. Then "I do not care to attempt it at present," he said. Meyerstein and his clerk stared at the speaker in surprise. "But you would be mad," cried the former, "if you accepted an offer for the box, whilst ignorant of the nature of its contents."
He glanced at me oddly. "I shall have it valued in the morning by Messrs. Meyerstein." He was keeping something back; I was sure of it. "Smith," I said suddenly, "the man with the limp! I heard him in the place where you were confined! Did you ..." Nayland Smith clicked his teeth together sharply, looking straightly and grimly into my eyes.
Meyerstein ran one fat finger tenderly across the heavily embossed figures, which, like barnacles, encrusted the sides and lid of the weird curio which we had summoned him to appraise. "What do you think, Lewison?" he added, glancing over his shoulder at the clerk who accompanied him.
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