CHAPTER IX

WITH the first coming of light, Eltham, Smith and I tested the

electrical contrivances from every point. They were in perfect order.

It became more and more incomprehensible how anyone could have entered

and quitted Redmoat during the night. The barbed-wire fencing was

intact, and bore no signs of having been tampered with.

Smith and I undertook an exhaustive examination of the shrubbery.

At the spot where we had found the dog, some five paces to the west of

the copper beech, the grass and weeds were trampled and the surrounding

laurels and rhododendrons bore evidence of a struggle, but no human

footprint could be found.

"The ground is dry," said Smith. "We cannot expect much."

"In my opinion," I said, "someone tried to get at Caesar; his presence

is dangerous. And in his rage he broke loose."

"I think so, too," agreed Smith. "But why did this person make for

here? And how, having mastered the dog, get out of Redmoat? I am open

to admit the possibility of someone's getting in during the day whilst

the gates are open, and hiding until dusk. But how in the name of all

that's wonderful does he GET OUT? He must possess the attributes of a

bird."

I thought of Greba Eltham's statements, reminding my friend of her

description of the thing which she had seen passing into this strangely

haunted shrubbery.

"That line of speculation soon takes us out of our depth, Petrie," he

said. "Let us stick to what we can understand, and that may help us to

a clearer idea of what, at present, is incomprehensible. My view of

the case to date stands thus:

"(1) Eltham, having rashly decided to return to the interior of China,

is warned by an official whose friendship he has won in some way to

stay in England.

"(2) I know this official for one of the Yellow group represented in

England by Dr. Fu-Manchu.

"(3) Several attempts, of which we know but little, to get at Eltham

are frustrated, presumably by his curious 'defenses.' An attempt in a

train fails owing to Miss Eltham's distaste for refreshment-room

coffee. An attempt here fails owing to her insomnia.

"(4) During Eltham's absence from Redmoat certain preparations are made

for his return. These lead to:

"(a) The death of Denby's collie;

"(b) The things heard and seen by Miss Eltham;

"(c) The things heard and seen by us all last night.

"So that the clearing up of my fourth point--id est, the discovery of

the nature of these preparations--becomes our immediate concern. The

prime object of these preparations, Petrie, was to enable someone to

gain access to Eltham's room. The other events are incidental. The

dogs HAD to be got rid of, for instance; and there is no doubt that

Miss Eltham's wakefulness saved her father a second time."

"But from what? For Heaven's sake, from what?"

Smith glanced about into the light-patched shadows.

"From a visit by someone--perhaps by Fu-Manchu himself," he said in a

hushed voice. "The object of that visit I hope we may never learn; for

that would mean that it had been achieved."

"Smith," I said, "I do not altogether understand you; but do you think

he has some incredible creature hidden here somewhere? It would be

like him."

"I begin to suspect the most formidable creature in the known world to

be hidden here. I believe Fu-Manchu is somewhere inside Redmoat!"

Our conversation was interrupted at this point by Denby, who came to

report that he had examined the moat, the roadside, and the bank of the

stream, but found no footprints or clew of any kind.

"No one left the grounds of Redmoat last night, I think," he said. And

his voice had awe in it.

That day dragged slowly on. A party of us scoured the neighborhood for

traces of strangers, examining every foot of the Roman ruin hard by;

but vainly.

"May not your presence here induce Fu-Manchu to abandon his plans?" I

asked Smith.

"I think not," he replied. "You see, unless we can prevail upon him,

Eltham sails in a fortnight. So the Doctor has no time to waste.

Furthermore, I have an idea that his arrangements are of such a

character that they MUST go forward. He might turn aside, of course,

to assassinate me, if opportunity arose! But we know, from experience,

that he permits nothing to interfere with his schemes."

There are few states, I suppose, which exact so severe a toll from

one's nervous system as the ANTICIPATION of calamity.

All anticipation is keener, be it of joy or pain, than the reality

whereof it is a mental forecast; but that inactive waiting at Redmoat,

for the blow which we knew full well to be pending exceeded in its

nerve taxation, anything I hitherto had experienced.

I felt as one bound upon an Aztec altar, with the priest's obsidian

knife raised above my breast!

Secret and malign forces throbbed about us; forces against which we had

no armor. Dreadful as it was, I count it a mercy that the climax was

reached so quickly. And it came suddenly enough; for there in that

quiet Norfolk home we found ourselves at hand grips with one of the

mysterious horrors which characterized the operations of Dr. Fu-Manchu.

It was upon us before we realized it. There is no incidental music to

the dramas of real life.

As we sat on the little terrace in the creeping twilight, I remember

thinking how the peace of the scene gave the lie to my fears that we

bordered upon tragic things. Then Caesar, who had been a docile

patient all day, began howling again; and I saw Greba Eltham shudder.

I caught Smith's eye, and was about to propose our retirement indoors,

when the party was broken up in more turbulent fashion. I suppose it

was the presence of the girl which prompted Denby to the rash act, a

desire personally to distinguish himself. But, as I recalled

afterwards, his gaze had rarely left the shrubbery since dusk, save to

seek her face, and now he leaped wildly to his feet, overturning his

chair, and dashed across the grass to the trees.

"Did you see it?" he yelled. "Did you see it?"

He evidently carried a revolver. For from the edge of the shrubbery a

shot sounded, and in the flash we saw Denby with the weapon raised.

"Greba, go in and fasten the windows," cried Eltham. "Mr. Smith, will

you enter the bushes from the west. Dr. Petrie, east. Edwards,

Edwards--" And he was off across the lawn with the nervous activity of

a cat.

As I made off in an opposite direction I heard the gardener's voice

from the lower gate, and I saw Eltham's plan. It was to surround the

shrubbery.

Two more shots and two flashes from the dense heart of greenwood. Then

a loud cry--I thought, from Denby--and a second, muffled one.

Following--silence, only broken by the howling of the mastiff.

I sprinted through the rose garden, leaped heedlessly over a bed of

geranium and heliotrope, and plunged in among the bushes and under the

elms. Away on the left I heard Edwards shouting, and Eltham's

answering voice.

"Denby!" I cried, and yet louder: "Denby!"

But the silence fell again.

Dusk was upon Redmoat now, but from sitting in the twilight my eyes had

grown accustomed to gloom, and I could see fairly well what lay before

me. Not daring to think what might lurk above, below, around me, I

pressed on into the midst of the thicket.

"Vernon!" came Eltham's voice from one side.

"Bear more to the right, Edwards," I heard Nayland Smith cry directly

ahead of me.

With an eerie and indescribable sensation of impending disaster upon

me, I thrust my way through to a gray patch which marked a break in the

elmen roof. At the foot of the copper beech I almost fell over Eltham.

Then Smith plunged into view. Lastly, Edwards the gardener rounded a

big rhododendron and completed the party.

We stood quite still for a moment.

A faint breeze whispered through the beech leaves.

"Where is he?"

I cannot remember who put it into words; I was too dazed with amazement

to notice. Then Eltham began shouting:

"Vernon! Vernon! VERNON!"

His voice pitched higher upon each repetition. There was something

horrible about that vain calling, under the whispering beech, with

shrubs banked about us cloaking God alone could know what.

From the back of the house came Caesar's faint reply.

"Quick! Lights!" rapped Smith. "Every lamp you have!"

Off we went, dodging laurels and privets, and poured out on to the

lawn, a disordered company. Eltham's face was deathly pale, and his

jaw set hard. He met my eye.

"God forgive me!" he said. "I could do murder to-night!"

He was a man composed of strange perplexities.

It seemed an age before the lights were found. But at last we returned

to the bushes, really after a very brief delay; and ten minutes

sufficed us to explore the entire shrubbery, for it was not extensive.

We found his revolver, but there was no one there--nothing.

When we all stood again on the lawn, I thought that I had never seen

Smith so haggard.

"What in Heaven's name can we do?" he muttered. "What does it mean?"

He expected no answer; for there was none to offer one.

"Search! Everywhere," said Eltham hoarsely.

He ran off into the rose garden, and began beating about among the

flowers like a madman, muttering: "Vernon! Vernon!" For close upon

an hour we all searched. We searched every square yard, I think,

within the wire fencing, and found no trace. Miss Eltham slipped out

in the confusion, and joined with the rest of us in that frantic hunt.

Some of the servants assisted too.

It was a group terrified and awestricken which came together again on

the terrace. One and then another would give up, until only Eltham and

Smith were missing. Then they came back together from examining the

steps to the lower gate.

Eltham dropped on to a rustic seat, and sank his head in his hands.

Nayland Smith paced up and down like a newly caged animal, snapping his

teeth together and tugging at his ear.

Possessed by some sudden idea, or pressed to action by his tumultuous

thoughts, he snatched up a lantern and strode silently off across the

grass and to the shrubbery once more. I followed him. I think his

idea was that he might surprise anyone who lurked there. He surprised

himself, and all of us.

For right at the margin he tripped and fell flat. I ran to him.

He had fallen over the body of Denby, which lay there!

Denby had not been there a few moments before, and how he came to be

there now we dared not conjecture. Mr. Eltham joined us, uttered one

short, dry sob, and dropped upon his knees. Then we were carrying

Denby back to the house, with the mastiff howling a marche funebre.

We laid him on the grass where it sloped down from the terrace.

Nayland Smith's haggard face was terrible. But the stark horror of the

thing inspired him to that, which conceived earlier, had saved Denby.

Twisting suddenly to Eltham, he roared in a voice audible beyond the

river:

"Heavens! we are fools! LOOSE THE DOG!"

"But the dog--" I began.

Smith clapped his hand over my mouth.

"I know he's crippled," he whispered. "But if anything human lurks

there, the dog will lead us to it. If a MAN is there, he will fly!

Why did we not think of it before. Fools, fools!" He raised his voice

again. "Keep him on leash, Edwards. He will lead us."

The scheme succeeded.

Edwards barely had started on his errand when bells began ringing

inside the house.

"Wait!" snapped Eltham, and rushed indoors.

A moment later he was out again, his eyes gleaming madly. "Above the

moat," he panted. And we were off en masse round the edge of the trees.

It was dark above the moat; but not so dark as to prevent our seeing a

narrow ladder of thin bamboo joints and silken cord hanging by two

hooks from the top of the twelve-foot wire fence. There was no sound.

"He's out!" screamed Eltham. "Down the steps!"

We all ran our best and swiftest. But Eltham outran us. Like a fury

he tore at bolts and bars, and like a fury sprang out into the road.

Straight and white it showed to the acclivity by the Roman ruin. But

no living thing moved upon it. The distant baying of the dog was borne

to our ears.

"Curse it! he's crippled," hissed Smith. "Without him, as well pursue

a shadow!"

A few hours later the shrubbery yielded up its secret, a simple one

enough: A big cask sunk in a pit, with a laurel shrub cunningly affixed

to its movable lid, which was further disguised with tufts of grass. A

slender bamboo-jointed rod lay near the fence. It had a hook on the

top, and was evidently used for attaching the ladder.

"It was the end of this ladder which Miss Eltham saw," said Smith, "as

he trailed it behind him into the shrubbery when she interrupted him in

her father's room. He and whomever he had with him doubtless slipped in

during the daytime--whilst Eltham was absent in London--bringing the

prepared cask and all necessary implements with them. They concealed

themselves somewhere--probably in the shrubbery--and during the night

made the cache. The excavated earth would be disposed of on the

flower-beds; the dummy bush they probably had ready. You see, the

problem of getting IN was never a big one. But owing to the 'defenses'

it was impossible (whilst Eltham was in residence at any rate) to get

OUT after dark. For Fu-Manchu's purposes, then, a working-base INSIDE

Redmoat was essential. His servant--for he needed assistance--must

have been in hiding somewhere outside; Heaven knows where! During the

day they could come or go by the gates, as we have already noted."

"You think it was the Doctor himself?"

"It seems possible. Who else has eyes like the eyes Miss Eltham saw

from the window last night?"

Then remains to tell the nature of the outrage whereby Fu-Manchu had

planned to prevent Eltham's leaving England for China. This we learned

from Denby. For Denby was not dead.

It was easy to divine that he had stumbled upon the fiendish visitor at

the very entrance to his burrow; had been stunned (judging from the

evidence, with a sand-bag), and dragged down into the cache--to which

he must have lain in such dangerous proximity as to render detection of

the dummy bush possible in removing him. The quickest expedient, then,

had been to draw him beneath. When the search of the shrubbery was

concluded, his body had been borne to the edge of the bushes and laid

where we found it.

Why his life had been spared, I cannot conjecture, but provision had

been made against his recovering consciousness and revealing the secret

of the shrubbery. The ruse of releasing the mastiff alone had

terminated the visit of the unbidden guest within Redmoat.

Denby made a very slow recovery; and, even when convalescent,

consciously added not one fact to those we already had collated; his

memory had completely deserted him!

This, in my opinion, as in those of the several specialists consulted,

was due, not to the blow on the head, but to the presence, slightly

below and to the right of the first cervical curve of the spine, of a

minute puncture--undoubtedly caused by a hypodermic syringe. Then,

unconsciously, poor Denby furnished the last link in the chain; for

undoubtedly, by means of this operation, Fu-Manchu had designed to

efface from Eltham's mind his plans of return to Ho-Nan.

The nature of the fluid which could produce such mental symptoms was a

mystery--a mystery which defied Western science: one of the many

strange secrets of Dr. Fu-Manchu.