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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!
"But," I began and turned to the rack in which Slattin's favorite cane at that moment reposed had reposed at the time of his death. Yes! there stood Slattin's cane; we had not moved it; we had disturbed nothing in that stricken house; there it stood, in company with an umbrella and a malacca. I glanced at the cane in my hand. Surely there could not be two such in the world?
Yet I am convinced that our presence at Slattin's house last night prevented Fu-Manchu from finishing off this little matter as he had designed to do." "What has given you this idea?" "Weymouth is responsible. He has rung me up from the Yard. The constable on duty at the house where the murder was committed, reports that some one, less than an hour ago, attempted to break in." "Break in!"
Smith inclined his head and hung over me in a tense attitude, in order to catch Slattin's reply. "Yes, Burke," it came "I want you to sit up until I return; I shall be going out shortly." Evidently the man withdrew at that; for a complete silence followed which prevailed for fully half an hour.
"A few minutes after his return," the man continued, "another cab came up, and a lady alighted." "A lady!" "The same, sir, that has called upon him before." "Smith!" I whispered, plucking at his arm "is it ?" He half turned, nodding his head; and my heart began to throb foolishly. For now the manner of Slattin's campaign suddenly was revealed to me.
I had not slept and had scarcely tasted food for more than thirty hours; for, following up a faint clue supplied by Burke, Slattin's man, and, like his master, an ex-officer of New York Police, my friend, Nayland Smith, on the previous evening had set out in quest of some obscene den where the man called Shen-Yan former keeper of an opium-shop was now said to be in hiding.
It began with a high, thin scream, which was choked off staccato fashion; upon it followed a loud and dreadful cry uttered with all the strength of Slattin's lungs. "Oh, God!" he cried, and again "Oh, God!" This in turn merged into a sort of hysterical sobbing. I was on my feet now, and automatically making for the door.
From the fact that two upper windows were illuminated, I adduced that the servants were retiring; the other windows were in darkness, except for one on the ground floor to the extreme left of the building, through the lowered venetian blinds whereof streaks of light shone out. "Slattin's study!" whispered Smith. "He does not anticipate surveillance, and you will note that the window is wide open!"
In short, either by accident, by reason of our superior vigilance, or by the clumsiness of his plans, Fu-Manchu for once in an otherwise blameless career has left a clue!" In utter darkness we groped our way through into the hall of Slattin's house, having entered, stealthily, from the rear; for Smith had selected the study as a suitable base of operations.
In his last moments of consciousness, with the blood from his wounded head trickling down into his eyes, he pointed to the stick which I had torn from the grip of the dacoit, and which I still held in my hand. "Not Aaron's rod, Petrie!" he gasped hoarsely "the rod of Moses! Slattin's stick!" Even in upon my anxiety for my friend, amazement intruded.
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