The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu by Sax Rohmer (best novels for teenagers TXT) 📖

>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 tonight!”

 

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 ridging

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 fathers 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. Whom 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.