Читать книгу THE DEVIL DOCTOR - Sax Rohmer - Страница 8

Dusk found Nayland Smith and me at the top bedroom window. We knew,

now that poor Forsyth's body had been properly examined, that he had

died from poisoning. Smith, declaring that I did not deserve his

confidence, had refused to confide in me his theory of the origin of

the peculiar marks upon the body.

"On the soft ground under the trees," he said, "I found his tracks

right up to the point where--something happened. There were no other

fresh tracks for several yards around. He was attacked as he stood

close to the trunk of one of the elms. Six or seven feet away I found

some other tracks, very much like this."

He marked a series of dots upon the blotting-pad, for this

conversation took place during the afternoon.

"Claws!" I cried. "That eerie call! like the call of a nighthawk--is

it some unknown species of--flying thing?"

"We shall see, shortly; possibly to-night," was his reply. "Since,

probably owing to the absence of any moon, a mistake was made"--his

jaw hardened at the thought of poor Forsyth--"another attempt along

the same lines will almost certainly follow--you know Fu-Manchu's

system?"

So in the darkness, expectant, we sat watching the group of nine elms.

To-night the moon was come, raising her Aladdin's lamp up to the star

world and summoning magic shadows into being. By midnight the

high-road showed deserted, the common was a place of mystery; and save

for the periodical passage of an electric car, in blazing modernity,

this was a fit enough stage for an eerie drama.

No notice of the tragedy had appeared in print; Nayland Smith was

vested with powers to silence the Press. No detectives, no special

constables, were posted. My friend was of opinion that the publicity

which had been given to the deeds of Dr. Fu-Manchu in the past,

together with the sometimes clumsy co-operation of the police, had

contributed not a little to the Chinaman's success.

"There is only one thing to fear," he jerked suddenly; "he may not be

ready for another attempt to-night."

"Why?"

"Since he has only been in England for a short time, his menagerie of

venomous things may be a limited one at present."

Earlier in the evening there had been a brief but violent

thunderstorm, with a tropical downpour of rain, and now clouds were

scudding across the blue of the sky. Through a temporary rift in the

veiling the crescent of the moon looked down upon us. It had a

greenish tint, and it set me thinking of the filmed, green eyes of

Fu-Manchu.

The cloud passed and a lake of silver spread out to the edge of the

coppice; where it terminated at a shadow bank.

"There it is, Petrie!" hissed Nayland Smith.

A lambent light was born in the darkness; it rose slowly, unsteadily,

to a great height, and died.

"It's under the trees, Smith!"

But he was already making for the door. Over his shoulder:

"Bring the pistol, Petrie!" he cried; "I have another. Give me at

least twenty yards' start or no attempt may be made. But the instant

I'm under the trees, join me."

Out of the house we ran, and over on to the common, which latterly had

been a pageant-ground for phantom warring. The light did not appear

again; and as Smith plunged off toward the trees, I wondered if he

knew what uncanny thing was hidden there. I more than suspected that

he had solved the mystery.

His instructions to keep well in the rear I understood. Fu-Manchu, or

the creature of Fu-Manchu, would attempt nothing in the presence of a

witness. But we knew full well that the instrument of death which was

hidden in the elm coppice could do its ghastly work and leave no clue,

could slay and vanish. For had not Forsyth come to a dreadful end

while Smith and I were within twenty yards of him?

Not a breeze stirred, as Smith, ahead of me--for I had slowed my

pace--came up level with the first tree. The moon sailed clear of the

straggling cloud wisps which alone told of the recent storm; and I

noted that an irregular patch of light lay silvern on the moist ground

under the elms where otherwise lay shadow.

He passed on, slowly. I began to run again. Black against the silvern

patch, I saw him emerge--and look up.

"Be careful, Smith!" I cried--and I was racing under the trees to join

him.

Uttering a loud cry, he leaped--away from the pool of light.

"Stand back, Petrie!" he screamed. "Back! farther!"

He charged into me, shoulder lowered, and sent me reeling!

Mixed up with his excited cry I had heard a loud splintering and

sweeping of branches overhead; and now as we staggered into the

shadows it seemed that one of the elms was reaching down to touch us!

So, at least, the phenomenon presented itself to my mind in that

fleeting moment while Smith, uttering his warning cry, was hurling me

back.

Then the truth became apparent.

With an appalling crash, a huge bough fell from above. One piercing

awful shriek there was, a crackling of broken branches, and a choking

groan....

The crack of Smith's pistol close beside me completed my confusion of

mind.

"Missed!" he yelled. "Shoot it, Petrie! On your left! For God's sake

don't miss it!"

I turned. A lithe black shape was streaking past me. I

fired--once--twice. Another frightful cry made yet more hideous the

nocturne.

Nayland Smith was directing the ray of a pocket torch upon the fallen

bough.

"Have you killed it, Petrie?" he cried.

"Yes, yes!"

I stood beside him, looking down. From the tangle of leaves and twigs

an evil yellow face looked up at us. The features were contorted with

agony, but the malignant eyes, wherein light was dying, regarded us

with inflexible hatred. The man was pinned beneath the heavy bough;

his back was broken; and, as we watched, he expired, frothing slightly

at the mouth, and quitted his tenement of clay leaving those glassy

eyes set hideously upon us.

"The pagan gods fight upon our side," said Smith strangely. "Elms have

a dangerous habit of shedding boughs in still weather--particularly

after a storm. Pan, god of the woods, with this one has performed

Justice's work of retribution."

"I don't understand. Where was this man--?"

"Up the tree, lying along the bough which fell, Petrie! That is why he

left no footmarks. Last night no doubt he made his escape by swinging

from bough to bough, ape-fashion, and descending to the ground

somewhere at the other side of the coppice."

He glanced at me.

"You are wondering, perhaps," he suggested, "what caused the

mysterious light? I could have told you this morning, but I fear I was

in a bad temper, Petrie. It's very simple; a length of tape soaked in

spirit or something of the kind, and sheltered from the view of any

one watching from your windows, behind the trunk of the tree; then,

the end ignited, lowered, still behind the tree, to the ground. The

operator swinging it around, the flame ascended, of course. I found

the unburned fragment of the tape used last night, a few yards from

here."

I was peering down at Fu-Manchu's servant, the hideous yellow man who

lay dead in a bower of elm leaves.

"He has some kind of leather bag beside him," I began.

"Exactly!" rapped Smith. "In that he carried his dangerous instrument

of death; from that he released it!"

"Released what?"

"What your fascinating friend came to recapture this morning."

"Don't taunt me, Smith!" I said bitterly. "Is it some species of

bird?"

"You saw the marks on Forsyth's body, and I told you of those which I

had traced upon the ground here. They were caused by _claws_, Petrie!"

"Claws! I thought so! But _what_ claws?"

"The claws of a poisonous thing. I recaptured the one used last night,

killed it--against my will--and buried it on the mound. I was afraid

to throw it in the pond, lest some juvenile fisherman should pull it

out and sustain a scratch. I don't know how long the claws would

remain venomous."

"You are treating me like a child, Smith," I said, slowly. "No doubt I

am hopelessly obtuse, but perhaps you will tell me what this Chinaman

carried in a leather bag and released upon Forsyth. It was something

which you recaptured, apparently with the aid of a plate of cold

turbot and a jug of milk. It was something, also, which Kâramanèh had

been sent to recapture with the aid--"

I stopped.

"Go on," said Nayland Smith, turning the ray to the left; "what did

she have in the basket?"

"Valerian," I replied mechanically.

The ray rested upon the lithe creature that I had shot down.

It was a black cat!

"A cat will go through fire and water for valerian," said Smith; "but

I got first innings this morning with fish and milk! I had recognized

the imprints under the trees for those of a cat, and I knew that if a

cat had been released here it would still be hiding in the

neighbourhood, probably in the bushes. I finally located a cat, sure

enough, and came for bait! I laid my trap, for the animal was too

frightened to be approachable, and then shot it; I had to. That yellow

fiend used the light as a decoy. The branch which killed him jutted

out over the path at a spot where an opening in the foliage above

allowed some moon rays to penetrate. Directly the victim stood

beneath, the Chinaman uttered his bird-cry; the one below looked up,

and the cat, previously held silent and helpless in the leather sack,

was dropped accurately upon his head!"

"But--" I was growing confused.

Smith stooped lower.

"The cat's claws are sheathed now," he said; "but if you could examine

them you would find that they are coated with a shining black

substance. Only Fu-Manchu knows what that substance is, Petrie; but

you and I know what it can do!"