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Updated: June 11, 2025
"I think not," he replied. "Either a greater One than Fu-Manchu has taken Lord Southery, or the yellow doctor has done his work so well that no trace remains of his presence in the matter." Leaving his breakfast untasted, he wandered aimlessly about the room, littering the hearth with matches as he constantly relighted his pipe, which went out every few minutes.
"Yes," replied Smith slowly, "and spared from the fate of Heaven alone knows how many men of genius. The yellow society lacks a Southery, but that Dr. Fu-Manchu was in Germany three years ago I have reason to believe; so that, even without visiting the grave of your great Teutonic rival, who suddenly died at about that time, I venture to predict that they have a Von Homber.
Smith began striding up and down the room. "Whose name," he jerked abruptly, "stands now at the head of our danger list?" He referred to a list which we had compiled of the notable men intervening between the evil genius who secretly had invaded London and the triumph of his cause the triumph of the yellow races. I glanced at our notes. "Lord Southery," I replied.
He got upon his feet. "He has a dacoit with him," he replied, and showed me the long curved knife which he held in his hand, a full inch of the blade bloodstained. "A near thing for me, Petrie." I heard the whir of a restarted motor. "We have lost him," said Smith. "But we have saved Lord Southery," I said. "Fu-Manchu will credit us with a skill as great as his own."
It came in waves in waves which corresponded with the throbbing of the awakened heart; which swept fuller and stronger; which filled and quickened the chilled body. As we rapidly freed the living man from the trappings of the dead one, Southery, uttering a stifled scream, sat up, looked about him with half-glazed eyes, and fell back. "My God!" cried Smith.
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