, and
sometimes glancing at me with his blood-lustful eyes. Never before, I
venture to say, had an autumn moon lighted such a scene in that place.

"Here we part," said Fu-Manchu, and spoke another word to his follower.

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 curse myself for an honorable fool," he said. "No one could dispute
my right to shoot you dead where you stand."

Knowing him as I did, I could tell from the suppressed passion in
Smith's voice that only by his unhesitating acceptance of my friend's
word, and implicit faith in his keeping it, had Dr. Fu-Manchu escaped
just retribution at that moment. Fiend though he was, I admired his
courage; for all this he, too, must have known.

The Doctor turned, and with the dacoit walked back. Nayland Smith's
next move filled me with surprise. For just as, silently, I was
thanking God for my escape, my friend began shedding his coat, collar,
and waistcoat.

"Pocket your valuables, and do the same," he muttered hoarsely. "We
have a poor chance but we are both fairly fit. To-night, Petrie, we
literally have to run for our lives."

We live in a peaceful age, wherein it falls to the lot of few men to
owe their survival to their fleetness of foot. At Smith's words I
realized in a flash that such was to be our fate to-night.

I have said that the hulk lay off a sort of promontory. East and west,
then, we had nothing to hope for. To the south was Fu-Manchu; and even
as, stripped of our heavier garments, we started to run northward, the
weird signal of a dacoit rose on the night and was answered--was
answered again.

"Three, at least," hissed Smith; "three armed dacoits. Hopeless."

"Take the revolver," I cried. "Smith, it's--"

"No," he rapped, through clenched teeth. "A servant of the Crown in
the East makes his motto: 'Keep your word, though it break your neck!'
I don't think we need fear it being used against us. Fu-Manchu avoids
noisy methods."

So back we ran, over the course by which, earlier, we had come. It
was, roughly, a mile to the first building--a deserted cottage--an