fore I knew I'd spoken. Ah!"--as an answering whistle came from
somewhere in the street below. "But will they ever find us?"

He blew again shrilly. Several whistles replied ... and a wisp of smoke
floated up from the shattered pane of the skylight.

"I can smell _petrol_!" muttered Weymouth.

An ever-increasing roar, not unlike that of an approaching storm at
sea, came from the streets beneath. Whistles skirled, remotely and
intimately, and sometimes one voice, sometimes another, would detach
itself from this stormy background with weird effect. Somewhere deep
in the bowels of the hashish house there went on ceaselessly a
splintering and crashing as though a determined assault were being
made upon a door. A light shone up through the skylight.

Back once more to the rail I sprang, looked down into the room below--
and saw a sight never to be forgotten.

Passing from divan to curtained door, from piles of cushions to
stacked-up tables, and bearing a flaming torch hastily improvised out
of a roll of newspaper, was Dr. Fu-Manchu. Everything inflammable in
the place had been soaked with petrol, and, his gaunt, yellow face
lighted by the evergrowing conflagration, so that truly it seemed not
the face of a man, but that of a demon of the hells, the Chinese
doctor ignited point after point....

"Smith!" I screamed, "we are trapped! that fiend means to burn us alive!"

"And the place will flare like matchwood! It's touch and go this time,
Petrie! To drop to the sloping roof underneath would mean almost
certain death on the pavement...."

I dragged my pistol from my pocket and began wildly to fire shot after
shot into the holocaust below. But the awful Chinaman had escaped--
probably by some secret exit reserved for his own use; for certainly
he must have known that escape into the court was now cut off.

Flames were beginning to hiss through the skylight. A tremendous
crackling and crashing told of the glass destroyed. Smoke spurted up
through the cracks of the boarding upon which we stood--and a great
shout came from the crowd in the streets....

In the distance--a long, long way off, it seemed--was born a new note
in the stormy human symphony. It grew in volume, it seemed to be
sweeping down upon us--nearer--nearer--nearer. Now it was in the
streets immediately adjoining the Cafe de l'Egypte ... and now,
blessed sound! it culminated in a mighty surging cheer.

"The fire-engines," said Weymouth coolly--and raised