r object upon the table--"was a servant
of the Chinese Doctor. In other words, we see before us one whom
Fu-Manchu has rebuked for some shortcoming."

I shuddered coldly. Familiar as I should have been with the methods of
the dread Chinaman, with his callous disregard of human suffering, of
human life, of human law, I could not reconcile my ideas--the ideas
of a modern, ordinary middle-class practitioner--with these Far Eastern
devilries which were taking place in London.

Even now I sometimes found myself doubting the reality of the whole
thing; found myself reviewing the history of the Eastern doctor and
of the horrible group of murderers surrounding him, with an incredulity
almost unbelievable in one who had been actually in contact not only
with the servants of the Chinaman, but with the sinister Fu-Manchu
himself. Then, to restore me to grips with reality, would come the
thought of Karamaneh, of the beautiful girl whose love had brought
me seemingly endless sorrow and whose love for me had brought her once
again into the power of that mysterious, implacable being.

This thought was enough. With its coming, fantasy vanished; and I knew
that the dead dacoit, his great curved knife yet clutched in his hand,
the Yellow menace hanging over London, over England, over the
civilized world, the absence, the heart-breaking absence, of
Karamaneh--all were real, all were true, all were part of my life.

Nayland Smith was standing staring vaguely before him and tugging at
the lobe of his left ear.

"Come along!" he snapped suddenly. "We have no more to learn here:
the clue to the mystery must be sought elsewhere."

There was that in his manner whereby I knew that his thoughts were far
away, as we filed out from the River Police Depot to the cab which
awaited us. Pulling from his overcoat pocket a copy of a daily paper--

"Have you seen this, Weymouth?" he demanded.

With a long, nervous index finger he indicated a paragraph on the front
page which appeared under the heading of "Personal." Weymouth bent
frowningly over the paper, holding it close to his eyes, for this was
a gloomy morning and the light in the cab was poor.

"Such things don't enter into my sphere, Mr. Smith," he replied, "but
no doubt the proper department at the Yard have seen it."

"I _know_ they have seen it!" snapped Smith; "but they have also been
unable to read it!"

Weymouth looked up in surprise.

"Indeed," he said. "You are interested in t