itched on the light Nayland Smith
dropped limply into a chair, leaning his head upon his hands. Even
that grim courage had been tried sorely.

"Never mind the dacoit, Petrie," he said. "Nemesis will know where to
find him. We know now what causes the mark of the Zayat Kiss.
Therefore science is richer for our first brush with the enemy, and the
enemy is poorer--unless he has any more unclassified centipedes. I
understand now something that has been puzzling me since I heard of
it--Sir Crichton's stifled cry. When we remember that he was almost
past speech, it is reasonable to suppose that his cry was not 'The red
hand!' but 'The red ANT!' Petrie, to think that I failed, by less than
an hour, to save him from such an end!"

CHAPTER IV

"THE body of a lascar, dressed in the manner usual on the P. & O.
boats, was recovered from the Thames off Tilbury by the river police at
six A.M. this morning. It is supposed that the man met with an
accident in leaving his ship."

Nayland Smith passed me the evening paper and pointed to the above
paragraph.

"For 'lascar' read 'dacoit,'" he said. "Our visitor, who came by way
of the ivy, fortunately for us, failed to follow his instructions.
Also, he lost the centipede and left a clew behind him. Dr. Fu-Manchu
does not overlook such lapses."

It was a sidelight upon the character of the awful being with whom we
had to deal. My very soul recoiled from bare consideration of the fate
that would be ours if ever we fell into his hands.

The telephone bell rang. I went out and found that Inspector Weymouth
of New Scotland Yard had called us up.

"Will Mr. Nayland Smith please come to the Wapping River Police Station
at once," was the message.

Peaceful interludes were few enough throughout that wild pursuit.

"It is certainly something important," said my friend; "and, if
Fu-Manchu is at the bottom of it--as we must presume him to
be--probably something ghastly."

A brief survey of the time-tables showed us that there were no trains
to serve our haste. We accordingly chartered a cab and proceeded east.

Smith, throughout the journey, talked entertainingly about his work in
Burma. Of intent, I think, he avoided any reference to the
circumstances which first had brought him in contact with the sinister
genius of the Yellow Movement. His talk was rather of the sunshine of
the East than of its shadows.

But the drive concluded--and all too soon. In a silence w