ellars lest I be accused of
accumulating horror for horror's sake. Members of the fire brigade,
helmed against contagion, brought out the bodies of the victims wrapped
in their living shrouds. . . .

From Karamaneh we learned much of Fu-Manchu, little of herself.

"What am I? Does my poor history matter--to anyone?" was her answer to
questions respecting herself.

And she would droop her lashes over her dark eyes.

The dacoits whom the Chinaman had brought to England originally
numbered seven, we learned. As you, having followed me thus far, will
be aware, we had thinned the ranks of the Burmans. Probably only one
now remained in England. They had lived in a camp in the grounds of
the house near Windsor (which, as we had learned at the time of its
destruction, the Doctor had bought outright). The Thames had been his
highway.

Other members of the group had occupied quarters in various parts of
the East End, where sailormen of all nationalities congregate.
Shen-Yan's had been the East End headquarters. He had employed the
hulk from the time of his arrival, as a laboratory for a certain class
of experiments undesirable in proximity to a place of residence.

Nayland Smith asked the girl on one occasion if the Chinaman had had a
private sea-going vessel, and she replied in the affirmative. She had
never been on board, however, had never even set eyes upon it, and
could give us no information respecting its character. It had sailed
for China.

"You are sure," asked Smith keenly, "that it has actually left?"

"I understood so, and that we were to follow by another route."

"It would have been difficult for Fu-Manchu to travel by a passenger
boat?"

"I cannot say what were his plans."

In a state of singular uncertainty, then, readily to be understood, we
passed the days following the tragedy which had deprived us of our
fellow-worker.

Vividly I recall the scene at poor Weymouth's home, on the day that we
visited it. I then made the acquaintance of the Inspector's brother.
Nayland Smith gave him a detailed account of the last scene.

"Out there in the mist," he concluded wearily, "it all seemed very
unreal."

"I wish to God it had been!"

"Amen to that, Mr. Weymouth. But your brother made a gallant finish.
If ridding the world of Fu-Manchu were the only good deed to his
credit, his life had been well spent."

James Weymouth smoked awhile in thoughtful silence. Though but four
and a half miles