nths."

"You begin to interest me," declared Smith, and there came something
of the old, eager look into his gaunt face, as, having lighted his
pipe, he tossed the match-end into the hearth.

"I had hoped for some little excitement, myself," confessed the
Inspector. "This dead-end, with not a shadow of a clue to the
whereabouts of the Yellow fiend, has been getting on my nerves--"

Nayland Smith grunted sympathetically.

"Although Dr. Fu-Manchu had been in England for some months, now,"
continued Weymouth, "I have never set eyes upon him; the house we
raided in Museum Street proved to be empty; in a word, I am wasting my
time. So that I volunteered to run up to Hampstead and look into the
matter of The Gables, principally as a distraction. It's a queer
business, but more in the Psychical Research Society's line than mine,
I'm afraid. Still, if there were no Dr. Fu-Manchu it might be of
interest to you--and to you, Dr. Petrie--because it illustrates the
fact that, given the right sort of subject, death can be brought
about without any elaborate mechanism--such as our Chinese friends
employ."

"You interest me more and more," declared Smith, stretching himself in
the long, white cane rest-chair.

"Two men, both fairly sound, except that the first one had an
asthmatic heart, have died at The Gables without any one laying a
little finger upon them. Oh! there was no jugglery! They weren't
poisoned, or bitten by venomous insects, or suffocated, or anything
like that. They just died of fear--stark fear."

With my elbows resting upon the table cover, and my chin in my hands,
I was listening attentively, now, and Nayland Smith, a big cushion
behind his head, was watching the speaker with a keen and speculative
look in those steely eyes of his.

"You imply that Dr. Fu-Manchu has something to learn from The Gables?"
he jerked.

Weymouth nodded stolidly.

"I can't work up anything like amazement in these days," continued the
latter; "every other case seems stale and hackneyed alongside _the_
case. But I must confess that when The Gables came on the books of the
Yard the second time, I began to wonder. I thought there might be some
tangible clue, some link connecting the two victims; perhaps some
evidence of robbery or of revenge--of some sort of motive. In short, I
hoped to find evidence of human agency at work, but, as before, I was
disappointed."

"It's a legitimate case of a haunted house, then?" said Smith.

"Y