thing without my orders."

The man moved off, and the door was opened. Smith whispered in my ear:

"Some creature of Dr. Fu-Manchu is in the hotel!"

Mr. Graham Guthrie, British resident in North Bhutan, was a big,
thick-set man--gray-haired and florid, with widely opened eyes of the
true fighting blue, a bristling mustache and prominent shaggy brows.
Nayland Smith introduced himself tersely, proffering his card and an
open letter.

"Those are my credentials, Mr. Guthrie," he said; "so no doubt you will
realize that the business which brings me and my friend, Dr. Petrie,
here at such an hour is of the first importance."

He switched off the light.

"There is no time for ceremony," he explained. "It is now twenty-five
minutes past twelve. At half-past an attempt will be made upon your
life!"

"Mr. Smith," said the other, who, arrayed in his pajamas, was seated on
the edge of the bed, "you alarm me very greatly. I may mention that I
was advised of your presence in England this morning."

"Do you know anything respecting the person called Fu-Manchu--Dr.
Fu-Manchu?"

"Only what I was told to-day--that he is the agent of an advanced
political group."

"It is opposed to his interests that you should return to Bhutan. A
more gullible agent would be preferable. Therefore, unless you
implicitly obey my instructions, you will never leave England!"

Graham Guthrie breathed quickly. I was growing more used to the gloom,
and I could dimly discern him, his face turned towards Nayland Smith,
whilst with his hand he clutched the bed-rail. Such a visit as ours, I
think, must have shaken the nerve of any man.

"But, Mr. Smith," he said, "surely I am safe enough here! The place is
full of American visitors at present, and I have had to be content with
a room right at the top; so that the only danger I apprehend is that of
fire."

"There is another danger," replied Smith. "The fact that you are at
the top of the building enhances that danger. Do you recall anything
of the mysterious epidemic which broke out in Rangoon in 1908--the
deaths due to the Call of Siva?"

"I read of it in the Indian papers," said Guthrie uneasily. "Suicides,
were they not?"

"No!" snapped Smith. "Murders!"

There was a brief silence.

"From what I recall of the cases," said Guthrie, "that seems
impossible. In several instances the victims threw themselves from the
windows of locked rooms--and the windows were quite inaccessible.