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It was symbolic of the subtle, intangible power manifested in Dr. Fu-Manchu, as Nayland Smith lean, agile, bronzed with the suns of Burma, was symbolic of the clean British efficiency which sought to combat the insidious enemy. "One thing is evident," said Smith: "no one in the house, Strozza excepted, knew that Sir Lionel was absent." "How do you arrive at that?" asked Weymouth.
The words were lost in a wild peal of laughter. Clutching at her throat she swayed and would have fallen had I not caught her in my arms. As I laid her insensible upon the settee I met Smith's glance. "I think I know that, too, Petrie," he said gravely. "What was it that he cried out?" demanded Nayland Smith abruptly. "I was in the sitting-room and it sounded to me like 'pomegranates'!"
All within space of an instant I saw the tide of Limehouse Reach, the Thames lapping about the green-coated timbers of a dock pier; and rising falling sometimes disclosing to the pallid light a rigid hand, sometimes a horribly bloated face I saw the body of Nayland Smith at the mercy of those oily waters. Ryman continued: "There is a launch out, too, patrolling the riverside from here to Tilbury.
Singular though my friend's proceedings appeared to me, I had ceased to wonder at anything. Since Nayland Smith's arrival at my rooms I seemed to have been moving through the fitful phases of a nightmare.
One two three four five minutes passed. The light vanished and did not appear again. Five more age-long minutes elapsed in absolute silence, whilst I peered into the darkness of the night and listened, every nerve in my body tense, for the return of Nayland Smith.
Nayland Smith tugged at my arm, and, glancing at him, I saw him frowningly shake his head. Utterly mystified, I nevertheless understood that for some reason he desired me to preserve silence for the present.
He was watching Nayland Smith, and revealing his irregular yellow teeth the teeth of an opium smoker in the awful mirthless smile which I knew. "God!" whispered Smith "the Six Gates!" "The knowledge of my beautiful country serves you well," replied Fu-Manchu gently. Instantly I looked to my friend... and every drop of blood seemed to recede from my heart, leaving it cold in my breast.
That I moved amid singular happenings, you, who have borne with me thus far, have learned, and that I witnessed many curious scenes; but of the many such scenes in that race-drama wherein Nayland Smith and Dr. Fu-Manchu played the leading parts, I remember none more bizarre than the one at my rooms that afternoon.
Yet, again, when I thought of my last meeting with her, and of how, twice, she had risked her life to save me.... So, avoiding the gaze of the lad, I took his arm, and in silence we two ascended the stairs and entered my study ... where Nayland Smith stood bolt upright beside the table, his steely eyes fixed upon the face of the new arrival.
I glanced at Fletcher across the table. "Zarmi!" he whispered. Again I raised my eyes to the face which now was close to mine, and became aware that I was trembling with excitement.... Heavens! why did enlightenment come too late! Either I was the victim of an odd delusion, or Zarmi had been the driver of the cab in which Nayland Smith had left the New Louvre Hotel!
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