senger. He will be one of your fellows.
Should he come--hoot three times, as much like an owl as you can."

We walked up to the porch of the cottage. In response to Smith's
ringing came James Weymouth, who seemed greatly relieved by our arrival.

"First," said my friend briskly, "you had better run up and see the
patient."

Accordingly, I followed Weymouth upstairs and was admitted by his wife
to a neat little bedroom where the grief-stricken woman lay, a wanly
pathetic sight.

"Did you administer the draught, as directed?" I asked.

Mrs. James Weymouth nodded. She was a kindly looking woman, with the
same dread haunting her hazel eyes as that which lurked in her
husband's blue ones.

The patient was sleeping soundly. Some whispered instructions I gave
to the faithful nurse and descended to the sitting-room. It was a warm
night, and Weymouth sat by the open window, smoking. The dim light
from the lamp on the table lent him an almost startling likeness to his
brother; and for a moment I stood at the foot of the stairs scarce able
to trust my reason. Then he turned his face fully towards me, and the
illusion was lost.

"Do you think she is likely to wake, Doctor?" he asked.

"I think not," I replied.

Nayland Smith stood upon the rug before the hearth, swinging from one
foot to the other, in his nervously restless way. The room was foggy
with the fumes of tobacco, for he, too, was smoking.

At intervals of some five to ten minutes, his blackened briar (which I
never knew him to clean or scrape) would go out. I think Smith used
more matches than any other smoker I have ever met, and he invariably
carried three boxes in various pockets of his garments.

The tobacco habit is infectious, and, seating myself in an arm-chair, I
lighted a cigarette. For this dreary vigil I had come prepared with a
bunch of rough notes, a writing-block, and a fountain pen. I settled
down to work upon my record of the Fu-Manchu case.

Silence fell upon Maple Cottage. Save for the shuddering sigh which
whispered through the over-hanging cedars and Smith's eternal
match-striking, nothing was there to disturb me in my task. Yet I
could make little progress. Between my mind and the chapter upon which
I was at work a certain sentence persistently intruded itself. It was
as though an unseen hand held the written page closely before my eyes.
This was the sentence:

"Imagine a person, tall, lean, and feline, high-shouldered,