duced the semblance
of death," I continued, "my fame would long survive my ashes."

My friend did not turn. But:

"She said it was something he put in the wine?" he jerked.

"In the wine, yes."

Silence fell. My thoughts reverted to Karamaneh, whom Dr. Fu-Manchu
held in bonds stronger than any slave-chains. For, with Aziz, her
brother, suspended between life and death, what could she do save obey
the mandates of the cunning Chinaman? What perverted genius was his!
If that treasury of obscure wisdom which he, perhaps alone of living
men, had rifled, could but be thrown open to the sick and suffering,
the name of Dr. Fu-Manchu would rank with the golden ones in the
history of healing.

Nayland Smith suddenly turned, and the expression upon his face amazed
me.

"Look up the next train to L--!" he rapped.

"To L--? What--?"

"There's the Bradshaw. We haven't a minute to waste."

In his voice was the imperative note I knew so well; in his eyes was
the light which told of an urgent need for action--a portentous truth
suddenly grasped.

"One in half-an-hour--the last."

"We must catch it."

No further word of explanation he vouchsafed, but darted off to dress;
for he had spent the afternoon pacing the room in his dressing-gown and
smoking without intermission.

Out and to the corner we hurried, and leaped into the first taxi upon
the rank. Smith enjoined the man to hasten, and we were off--all in
that whirl of feverish activity which characterized my friend's
movements in times of important action.

He sat glancing impatiently from the window and twitching at the lobe
of his ear.

"I know you will forgive me, old man," he said, "but there is a little
problem which I am trying to work out in my mind. Did you bring the
things I mentioned?"

"Yes."

Conversation lapsed, until, just as the cab turned into the station,
Smith said: "Should you consider Lord Southery to have been the first
constructive engineer of his time, Petrie?"

"Undoubtedly," I replied.

"Greater than Von Homber, of Berlin?"

"Possibly not. But Von Homber has been dead for three years."

"Three years, is it?"

"Roughly."

"Ah!"

We reached the station in time to secure a non-corridor compartment to
ourselves, and to allow Smith leisure carefully to inspect the
occupants of all the others, from the engine to the guard's van. He
was muffled up to the eyes, and he warned me to keep out of sight in
the corner of the c