a
train fails owing to Miss Eltham's distaste for refreshment-room
coffee. An attempt here fails owing to her insomnia.

"(4) During Eltham's absence from Redmoat certain preparations are made
for his return. These lead to:

"(a) The death of Denby's collie;

"(b) The things heard and seen by Miss Eltham;

"(c) The things heard and seen by us all last night.

"So that the clearing up of my fourth point--id est, the discovery of
the nature of these preparations--becomes our immediate concern. The
prime object of these preparations, Petrie, was to enable someone to
gain access to Eltham's room. The other events are incidental. The
dogs HAD to be got rid of, for instance; and there is no doubt that
Miss Eltham's wakefulness saved her father a second time."

"But from what? For Heaven's sake, from what?"

Smith glanced about into the light-patched shadows.

"From a visit by someone--perhaps by Fu-Manchu himself," he said in a
hushed voice. "The object of that visit I hope we may never learn; for
that would mean that it had been achieved."

"Smith," I said, "I do not altogether understand you; but do you think
he has some incredible creature hidden here somewhere? It would be
like him."

"I begin to suspect the most formidable creature in the known world to
be hidden here. I believe Fu-Manchu is somewhere inside Redmoat!"

Our conversation was interrupted at this point by Denby, who came to
report that he had examined the moat, the roadside, and the bank of the
stream, but found no footprints or clew of any kind.

"No one left the grounds of Redmoat last night, I think," he said. And
his voice had awe in it.

That day dragged slowly on. A party of us scoured the neighborhood for
traces of strangers, examining every foot of the Roman ruin hard by;
but vainly.

"May not your presence here induce Fu-Manchu to abandon his plans?" I
asked Smith.

"I think not," he replied. "You see, unless we can prevail upon him,
Eltham sails in a fortnight. So the Doctor has no time to waste.
Furthermore, I have an idea that his arrangements are of such a
character that they MUST go forward. He might turn aside, of course,
to assassinate me, if opportunity arose! But we know, from experience,
that he permits nothing to interfere with his schemes."

There are few states, I suppose, which exact so severe a toll from
one's nervous system as the ANTICIPATION of calamity.

All anticipation is keener, be it of joy