As I also turned
my eyes in that direction, the rats overcame their temporary fear, and
began...

"You have been good enough to notice," said the Chinaman, his voice
still sunk in that sibilant whisper, "my partiality for dumb allies. You
have met my scorpions, my death-adders, my baboon-man. The uses of such
a playful little animal as a marmoset have never been fully appreciated
before, I think, but to an indiscretion of this last-named pet of mine,
I seem to remember that you owed something in the past, Dr. Petrie..."

Nayland Smith stifled a deep groan. One rapid glance I ventured at his
face. It was a grayish hue, now, and dank with perspiration. His gaze
met mine.

The rats had almost ceased squealing.

"Much depends upon yourself, Doctor," continued Fu-Manchu, slightly
raising his voice. "I credit Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith with courage
high enough to sustain the raising of all the gates; but I estimate the
strength of your friendship highly, also, and predict that you will use
the sword of the samurai certainly not later than the time when I shall
raise the third gate...."

A low shuddering sound, which I cannot hope to describe, but alas I can
never forget, broke from the lips of the tortured man.

"In China," resumed Fu-Manchu, "we call this quaint fancy the Six Gates
of joyful Wisdom. The first gate, by which the rats are admitted, is
called the Gate of joyous Hope; the second, the Gate of Mirthful Doubt.
The third gate is poetically named, the Gate of True Rapture, and the
fourth, the Gate of Gentle Sorrow. I once was honored in the friendship
of an exalted mandarin who sustained the course of joyful Wisdom to the
raising of the Fifth Gate (called the Gate of Sweet Desires) and the
admission of the twentieth rat. I esteem him almost equally with my
ancestors. The Sixth, or Gate Celestial--whereby a man enters into the
joy of Complete Understanding--I have dispensed with, here, substituting
a Japanese fancy of an antiquity nearly as great and honorable. The
introduction of this element of speculation, I count a happy thought,
and accordingly take pride to myself."

"The sword, Petrie!" whispered Smith. I should not have recognized his
voice, but he spoke quite evenly and steadily. "I rely upon you, old
man, to spare me the humiliation of asking mercy from that yellow
fiend!"

My mind throughout this time had been gaining a sort of dreadful
clarity. I had avoided looking at the sword of hara-kiri,