d been undertaken with the utmost reluctance. Nayland Smith
had written to me once during my brief absence, and his letter had
inspired a yet keener desire to be back and at grips with the Yellow
group; for he had hinted broadly that a tangible clue to the
whereabouts of the Si-Fan head-quarters had at last been secured.

Now I learnt that I had a traveling companion--a woman. She was seated
in the further, opposite corner, wore a long, loose motor-coat, which
could not altogether conceal the fine lines of her lithe figure, and a
thick veil hid her face. A motive for the excited behavior of the
negro chauffeur suggested itself to my mind; a label; "Engaged," was
pasted to the window!

I glanced across the compartment. Through the closely woven veil the
woman was watching me. An apology clearly was called for.

"Madame," I said, "I hope you will forgive this unfortunate intrusion;
but it was vitally important that I should not miss the London train."

She bowed, very slightly, very coldly--and turned her head aside.

The rebuff was as unmistakable as my offense was irremediable. Nor did
I feel justified in resenting it. Therefore, endeavoring to dismiss
the matter from my mind, I placed my bag upon the rack, and unfolding
the newspaper with which I was provided, tried to interest myself in
the doings of the world at large.

My attempt proved not altogether successful; strive how I would, my
thoughts persistently reverted to the Si-Fan, the evil, secret society
who held in their power one dearer to me than all the rest of the
world; to Dr. Fu-Manchu, the genius who darkly controlled my destiny;
and to Nayland Smith, the barrier between the White races and the
devouring tide of the Yellow.

Sighing again, involuntarily, I glanced up ... to meet the gaze of a
pair of wonderful eyes.

Never, in my experience, had I seen their like. The dark eyes of
Karamaneh were wonderful and beautiful, the eyes of Dr. Fu-Manchu
sinister and wholly unforgettable; but the eyes of this woman were
incredible. Their glance was all but insupportable; the were the eyes
of a Medusa!

Since I had met; in the not distant past, the soft gaze of Ki-Ming,
the mandarin whose phenomenal hypnotic powers rendered him capable of
transcending the achievements of the celebrated Cagliostro, I knew
much of the power of the human eye. But these were unlike any human
eyes I had ever known.

Long, almond-shaped, bordered by heavy jet-black lashes, arch