rience sensations of
which I have never since been able to think without a thrill of fear.
It seemed that I had thrust myself, not into a commonplace railway
compartment, but into a Cumaean cavern.

If only I could have addressed this utterly mysterious stranger, have
uttered some word of commonplace, I felt that the spell might have
been broken. But, for some occult reason, in no way associated with
my first rebuff, I found myself tongue-tied; I sustained, for an hour
(the longest I had ever known), a silent watch and ward over my reason;
I seemed to be repelling, fighting against, some subtle power that
sought to flood my brain, swamp my individuality, and enslave me to
another's will.

In what degree this was actual, and in what due to a mind overwrought
from endless conflict with the Yellow group, I know not to this day,
but you who read these records of our giant struggle with Fu-Manchu
and his satellites shall presently judge for yourselves.

When, at last, the brakes were applied, and the pillars and platforms
of the great terminus glided into view, how welcome was the smoky
glare, how welcome the muffled roar of busy London!

A huge negro--the double of the man I had overthrown--opened the door
of the compartment, bestowing upon me a glance in which enmity and
amazement were oddly blended, and the woman, drawing the cloak about
her graceful figure, stood up composedly.

She reached for a small leather case on the rack, and her loose sleeve
fell back, to reveal a bare arm--soft, perfectly molded, of the even
hue of old ivory. Just below the elbow a strange-looking snake bangle
clasped the warm-flesh; the eyes; dull green, seemed to hold a
slumbering fire--a spark--a spark of living light.

Then--she was gone!

"Thank Heaven!" I muttered, and felt like another Dante emerging from
the Hades.

As I passed out of the station, I had a fleeting glimpse of a gray
figure stepping into a big car, driven by a black chauffeur.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE MARMOSET

Half-past twelve was striking as I came out of the terminus, buttoning
up my overcoat, and pulling my soft hat firmly down upon my head,
started to walk to Hyde Park Corner.

I had declined the services of the several taxi-drivers who had
accosted me and had determined to walk a part of the distance homeward,
in order to check the fever of excitement which consumed me.

Already I was ashamed of the strange fears which had been mine during
the journe