r have known you in a month of Bank holidays! What's afoot,
then?"--and he turned to Weymouth, eyebrows raised interrogatively.

"It's the Fu-Manchu business again, Ryman."

"Fu-Manchu! But I thought the Fu-Manchu case was off the books long
ago? It was always a mystery to me; never a word in the papers; and
we as much in the dark as everybody else--but didn't I hear that the
Chinaman, Fu-Manchu, was dead?"

Weymouth nodded.

"Some of his friends seem to be very much alive, though" he said.
"It appears that Fu-Manchu, for all his genius--and there's no denying
he was a genius, Ryman--was only the agent of somebody altogether
bigger."

Ryman whistled softly.

"Has the real head of affairs arrived, then?"

"We find we are up against what is known as the Si-Fan."

At that it came to the inevitable, unanswerable question.

"What is the Si-Fan?"

I laughed, but my laughter was not mirthful. Inspector Weymouth shook
his head.

"Perhaps Mr. Nayland Smith could tell you that," he replied; "for the
Si-Fan got him to-day!"

"Got him!" cried Ryman.

"Absolutely! He's vanished! And Fletcher here has found out that John
Ki's place is in some way connected with this business."

I interrupted--impatiently, I fear.

"Then let us set out, Inspector," I said, "for it seems to me that we
are wasting precious time--and you know what that may mean." I turned
to Fletcher. "Where is this place situated, exactly? How do we proceed?"

"The cab can take us part of the way," he replied, "and we shall have
to walk the rest. Patrons of John's don't turn up in taxis, as a rule!"

"Then let us be off," I said, and made for the door.

"Don't forget the signal!" Weymouth cried after me, "and don't venture
into the place until you've received our reply...."

But I was already outside, Fletcher following; and a moment later we
were both in the cab and off into a maze of tortuous streets toward
John Ki's Joy-Shop.

With the coming of nightfall the rain had ceased, but the sky remained
heavily overcast and the air was filled with clammy mist. It was a
night to arouse longings for Southern skies; and when, discharging
the cabman, we set out afoot along a muddy and ill-lighted
thoroughfare bordered on either side by high brick walls, their
monotony occasionally broken by gateways, I felt that the load of
depression which had settled upon my shoulders must ere long bear me
down.

Sounds of shunting upon some railway siding came to