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Updated: April 30, 2025
His jaw looked very square in the lamplight, and his eyes shone like steel as he took it from her and opened the envelope. He glanced at the form, stood up and passed it to me, reaching for his hat, which lay upon my writing-table. "God help us, Petrie!" he said. This was the message: "Sir Lionel Barton murdered. Meet me at his house at once.
"Come in, Petrie!" he cried, seizing my arm. "You remain here, Weymouth; don't leave these rooms whatever happens!" We ran out into the corridor. For my own part I had not the vaguest idea what we were about. My mind was not yet fully recovered from the frightful shock which it had sustained; and the strange words of the dying man "the golden pomegranates" had increased my mental confusion.
The tombs at this place had been rifled in ancient times, but many skeletons of people, who had been buried in a crouching attitude, were discovered, and Petrie considered that these belonged to a different race from that which was accustomed to bury the dead recumbent. A quantity of pottery was also unearthed, dating from the fourth century.
Just within the door he helped me to remove the somewhat conspicuous check traveling-coat which I wore. With this upon his arm he opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. As the door slammed upon his exit, I heard him cry: "Come along, Petrie! we have barely five minutes to catch our train."
The man threw his knife upon the ground. "Search him, Petrie," directed Smith. "He may have a second concealed." The Doctor consented; and I passed my hands over the man's scanty garments. "Now search Fu-Manchu." This also I did. And never have I experienced a similar sense of revulsion from any human being. I shuddered, as though I had touched a venomous reptile. Smith threw down his revolver.
"I have been thinking the same about you for more than twenty-four hours," I said reproachfully. "Why did you start without ?" "I did not want you to come, Petrie," he replied. "I had a sort of premonition. You see it was realized; and instead of being as helpless as I, Fate has made you the instrument of my release. Quick! You have a knife? Good!"
Cant you see that three-score-and-ten, though it may be long enough for a very crude sort of village life, isnt long enough for a complicated civilization like ours? Flinders Petrie has counted nine attempts at civilization made by people exactly like us; and every one of them failed just as ours is failing.
The other man was short and red-headed. And the evening clothes are well cut from what I can see. Must have been a handsome chap once.... Well, we'll have to get this very gruesome find back to the Towers as quickly as possible. Got your oilskin with you, Petrie?" "Yessir!" Petrie miraculously produced the roll from under his tunic and spread the sheet out.
And this is the material with which we do our day's work Mail-Order Petrie, Marshal Furgeson, the pretty girls in the flower parade, the wise clubwomen, the cut-glass society crowd, the proud owner of the automobile, the "respectable parties concerned," the proprietor of the Golden Eagle, the clerks in the Bee Hive, the country crook who aspires to be a professional criminal some day, "the leading citizen," who spends much of his time seeing the sights of his country, the college boys who wear funny clothes and ribbons on their hats, and the politicians, greedy for free advertising.
Now, with those remorseless memories jostling in my mind, I was entering the house of Fu-Manchu's last victim, and the shadow of that giant evil seemed to be upon it like a palpable cloud. Cadby's old landlady greeted me with a queer mixture of fear and embarrassment in her manner. "I am Dr. Petrie," I said, "and I regret that I bring bad news respecting Mr. Cadby." "Oh, sir!" she cried.
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