id the officer see this person?"

"No; he only heard him. It was some one who endeavoured to enter by
the bath-room window, which, I am told, may be reached fairly easily
by an agile climber."

"The attempt did not succeed?"

"No; the constable interrupted, but failed to make a capture or even
to secure a glimpse of the man."

We were both silent for some moments; then--

"What do you propose to do?" I asked.

"We must not let Fu-Manchu's servants know," replied Smith, "but
to-night I shall conceal myself in Slattin's house and remain there
for a week or a day--it matters not how long--until that attempt is
repeated. Quite obviously, Petrie, we have overlooked something which
implicates the murderer with the murder! In short, either by accident,
by reason of our superior vigilance, or by the clumsiness of his
plans, Fu-Manchu for once in an otherwise blameless career has left a
_clue_!"

CHAPTER X

THE CLIMBER RETURNS

In utter darkness we groped our way through into the hall of Slattin's
house, having entered, stealthily, from the rear; for Smith had
selected the study as a suitable base of operations. We reached it
without mishap, and presently I found myself seated in the very chair
which Karamaneh had occupied; my companion took up a post just within
the widely opened door.

So we commenced our ghostly business in the house of the murdered
man--a house from which, but a few hours since, his body had been
removed. This was such a vigil as I had endured once before, when,
with Nayland Smith and another, I had waited for the coming of one of
Fu-Manchu's death agents.

Of all the sounds which one by one now began to detach themselves from
the silence, there was a particular sound, homely enough at another
time, which spoke to me more dreadfully than the rest. It was the
ticking of the clock upon the mantelpiece; and I thought how this
sound must have been familiar to Abel Slattin, how it must have formed
part and parcel of his life, as it were, and how it went on
now--_tick_-_tick_-_tick_-_tick_--whilst he, for whom it had ticked,
lay unheeding--would never heed it more.

As I grew more accustomed to the gloom, I found myself staring at the
office chair; once I found myself expecting Abel Slattin to enter the
room and occupy it. There was a little China Buddha upon a bureau in
one corner, with a gilded cap upon its head, and as some reflection of
the moonlight sought out this little cap, my thou