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Only I, and now yourself, know that he is a high official of the Si-Fan; Ki-Ming is aware that I know. Why, therefore, does he risk his neck in London?" "He relies upon his national cunning." "Petrie, he is aware that I hold evidence to hang him, either here or in China! He relies upon one thing; upon striking first and striking surely. Why is he so confident? I do not know.
"Not since the day of the first Yuan Emperor," said Fu-Manchu sibilantly, "has Our Lady of the Si-Fan to look upon upon whom, unveiled, is death crossed the sacred borders. To-day I am a man supremely happy and honored above my deserts. You shall all partake with me of that happiness, that honor...."
There was a hidden significance in his manner, and, my memory harking back to an adventure which we had shared in the past, I suddenly glimpsed the depths of my own stupidity. He suspected the presence of an eavesdropper! Yes! incredible though it might appear, we were spied upon in the New Louvre; agents of the Si-Fan, of Dr. Fu-Manchu, were actually within the walls of the great hotel!
"You have told me neither much nor little, Smith," I said, resuming for some reason, in a hushed voice. "Who or what is this Si-Fan at whose existence you hint?" Nayland Smith smiled grimly. "Possibly the real and hitherto unsolved riddle of Tibet, Petrie," he replied "a mystery concealed from the world behind the veil of Lamaism."
Commissioner Nayland Smith," continued the mandarin, "as the recipient of those secrets which I am about to impart, for the reason that your friend might possibly be acquainted with my appearance. I will confess there was a time when I must have regarded you with animosity, as one who sought the destruction of the most ancient and potent organization in the world the Si-Fan."
"We have to fear," replied Smith, throwing himself into a corner of the settee, "the Si-Fan!" I continued to stare, uncomprehendingly. "The Si-Fan " "I always knew and you always knew," interrupted Smith in his short, decisive manner, "that Fu-Manchu, genius that he was, remained nevertheless the servant of another or others.
Something associated in some way with Tibet, something which he believed to be "the key of India" and which had brought in its train, presumably, the sinister "man with a limp." Who was the "man with the limp"? What was the Si-Fan?
It was filled with a variety of gold ornaments, cups, vases, silks, and barbaric brocaded raiment; it might well have contained the loot of a cathedral. Inspector Weymouth laughed gruffly at my surprise. "What is it?" I asked, in a voice of amazement. "It's the treasure of the Si-Fan, I presume," rapped Smith.
The view seemed to absorb his attention. He spoke without turning his head. Nayland Smith laughed shortly. "The Si-Fan are the natives of Eastern Tibet," he replied. "But the term has some other significance, sir?" said the detective; his words were more of an assertion than a query. "It has," replied my friend grimly.
Small wonder that he is so formidable. But, Smith who is that woman?" "Petrie!" he said slowly, and I knew that I had betrayed my secret, "Petrie where did you learn all this?" I returned his steady gaze. "I was present at the meeting of the Si-Fan," I replied steadily. "What? What? You were present?" "I was present! Listen, and I will explain."
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