e spoke with
all the passionate devoutness of the true Moslem.

Everything, even Karamaneh was forgotten, and I started for the door as
though my life depended upon my speed. With one foot upon the landing, I
turned, looked back, and met the glance of Inspector Weymouth.

"What have you done with--the body?" I asked.

"We haven't been able to get to it. That end of the vault collapsed two
minutes after we hauled you out!"

As I write, now, of those strange days, already they seem remote and
unreal. But, where other and more dreadful memories already are grown
misty, the memory of that evening in my rooms remains clear-cut and
intimate. It marked a crisis in my life.

During the days that immediately followed, whilst Smith was slowly
recovering from his hurts, I made my plans deliberately; I prepared to
cut myself off from old associations--prepared to exile myself, gladly;
how gladly I cannot hope to express in mere cold words.

That my friend approved of my projects, I cannot truthfully state, but
his disapproval at least was not openly expressed. To Karamaneh I said
nothing of my plans, but her complete reliance in my powers to protect
her, now, from all harm, was at once pathetic and exquisite.

Since, always, I have sought in these chronicles to confine myself to
the facts directly relating to the malignant activity of Dr. Fu-Manchu,
I shall abstain from burdening you with details of my private affairs.
As an instrument of the Chinese doctor, it has sometimes been my duty
to write of the beautiful Eastern girl; I cannot suppose that my readers
have any further curiosity respecting her from the moment that Fate
freed her from that awful servitude. Therefore, when I shall have
dealt with the episodes which marked our voyage to Egypt--I had opened
negotiations in regard to a practice in Cairo--I may honorably lay down
my pen.

These episodes opened, dramatically, upon the second night of the voyage
from Marseilles.

CHAPTER XXXI. "MY SHADOW LIES UPON YOU"

I suppose I did not awake very readily. Following the nervous vigilance
of the past six months, my tired nerves, in the enjoyment of this
relaxation, were rapidly recuperating. I no longer feared to awake to
find a knife at my throat, no longer dreaded the darkness as a foe.

So that the voice may have been calling (indeed, had been calling) for
some time, and of this I had been hazily conscious before finally I
awoke. Then, ere the new sense of secu