ce
with which Fu-Manchu sought to impress his fanatical dupes. And he had
succeeded; they were inspired, their eyes blazed. Here were men capable
of any crime in the name of the Si-Fan!

Every face within my ken I had studied individually, and now slowly
and cautiously I changed my position, so that a group of three members
standing immediately to the right of the door came into view. One of
them--a tall, spare, and closely bearded man whom I took for some kind
of Hindu--had removed his gaze from the dais and was glancing
furtively all about him. Once he looked in my direction, and my heart
leapt high, then seemed to stop its pulsing.

An overpowering consciousness of my danger came to me; a dim
envisioning of what appalling fate would be mine in the event of
discovery. As those piercing eyes were turned away again, I drew back,
step my step.

Dropping upon my knees, I began to feel for the gap in the
conservatory wall. The desire to depart from the house of the Si-Fan
was become urgent. Once safely away, I could take the necessary steps
to ensure the apprehension of the entire group. What a triumph would
be mine!

I found the opening without much difficulty and crept through into the
empty house. The vague light which penetrated the linen blinds served
to show me the length of the empty, tiled apartment. I had actually
reached the French window giving access to the drawing-room, when--the
skirl of a police whistle split the stillness ... and the sound came
from the house which I had just quitted!

To write that I was amazed were to achieve the banal. Rigid with
wonderment I stood, and clutched at the open window. So I was standing,
a man of stone, when the voice, the high-pitched, imperious,
unmistakable voice of _Nayland Smith,_ followed sharply upon the skirl
of the whistle:--

"Watch those French windows, Weymouth! I can hold the door!"

Like a lightning flash it came to me that the tall Hindu had been none
other than Smith disguised. From the square outside came a sudden
turmoil, a sound of racing feet, of smashing glass, of doors burst
forcibly open. Palpably, the place was surrounded; this was an
organized raid.

Irresolute, I stood there in the semi-gloom--inactive from amaze of it
all--whilst sounds of a tremendous struggle proceeded from the square
gap in the partition.

"Lights!" rose a cry, in Smith's voice again--"they have cut the
wires!"

At that I came to my senses. Plunging my hand into m