East incarnate.

When we rejoined him, Nayland Smith was talking to the commissionaire
at the door. He turned to me.

"That is Professor Jenner Monde," he said. "The sergeant, here, knows
him well."

The name of the celebrated Orientalist of course was familiar to me,
although I had never before set eyes upon him.

"The Professor was out East the last time I was there, sir," stated the
commissionaire. "I often used to see him. But he's an eccentric old
gentleman. Seems to live in a world of his own. He's recently back
from China, I think."

Nayland Smith stood clicking his teeth together in irritable
hesitation. I heard Karamaneh sigh, and, looking at her, I saw that
her cheeks were regaining their natural color.

She smiled in pathetic apology.

"If he was here he is gone," she said. "I am not afraid now."

Smith thanked the commissionaire for his information and we quitted the
gallery.

"Professor Jenner Monde," muttered my friend, "has lived so long in
China as almost to be a Chinaman. I have never met him--never seen
him, before; but I wonder--"

"You wonder what, Smith?"

"I wonder if he could possibly be an ally, of the Doctor's!"

I stared at him in amazement.

"If we are to attach any importance to the incident at all," I said,
"we must remember that the boy's impression--and Karamaneh's--was that
Fu-Manchu was present in person."

"I DO attach importance to the incident, Petrie; they are naturally
sensitive to such impressions. But I doubt if even the abnormal
organization of Aziz could distinguish between the hidden presence of a
creature of the Doctor's and that of the Doctor himself. I shall make
a point of calling upon Professor Jenner Monde."

But Fate had ordained that much should happen ere Smith made his
proposed call upon the Professor.

Karamaneh and her brother safely lodged in their hotel (which was
watched night and day by four men under Smith's orders), we returned to
my quiet suburban rooms.

"First," said Smith, "let us see what we can find out respecting
Professor Monde."

He went to the telephone and called up New Scotland Yard. There
followed some little delay before the requisite information was
obtained. Finally, however, we learned that the Professor was
something of a recluse, having few acquaintances, and fewer friends.

He lived alone in chambers in New Inn Court, Carey Street. A charwoman
did such cleaning as was considered necessary by the Prof