eve that any man
could ever grow used to his presence, could ever cease to fear him. I
suppose I had set eyes upon Fu-Manchu some five or six times prior to
this occasion, and now he was dressed in the manner which I always
associated with him, probably because it was thus I first saw him. He
wore a plain yellow robe, and, his pointed chin resting upon his
bosom, he looked down at me, revealing a great expanse of the
marvellous brow with its sparse, neutral-coloured hair.

Never in my experience have I known such _force_ to dwell in the
glance of any human eye as dwelt in that of this uncanny being. His
singular affliction (if affliction it were), the film or slight
membrane which sometimes obscured the oblique eyes, was particularly
evident at the moment that I crossed the threshold, but now as I
looked up at Dr. Fu-Manchu, it lifted--revealing the eyes in all their
emerald greenness.

The idea of physical attack upon this incredible being seemed
childish--inadequate. But, following that first instant of
stupefaction, I forced myself to advance upon him.

A dull, crushing blow descended on the top of my skull, and I became
oblivious of all things.

My return to consciousness was accompanied by tremendous pains in my
head, whereby, from previous experience, I knew that a sandbag had
been used against me by some one in the shop, presumably by the
immobile shopman. This awakening was accompanied by none of those hazy
doubts respecting previous events and present surroundings which are
the usual symptoms of revival from sudden unconsciousness; even before
I opened my eyes, before I had more than a partial command of my
senses, I knew that, with my wrists handcuffed behind me, I lay in a
room which was also occupied by Dr. Fu-Manchu. This absolute certainty
of the Chinaman's presence was evidenced, not by my senses, but only
by an inner consciousness, and the same that always awakened into life
at the approach not only of Fu-Manchu in person but of certain of his
uncanny servants.

A faint perfume hung in the air about me; I do not mean that of any
essence or of any incense, but rather the smell which is suffused by
Oriental furniture, by Oriental draperies; the indefinable but
unmistakable perfume of the East.

Thus, London has a distinct smell of its own, and so has Paris, whilst
the difference between Marseilles and Suez, for instance, is even more
marked. Now the atmosphere surrounding me was Eastern, but not of