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The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu
by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER I
"A GENTLEMAN to see you, Doctor."
From across the common a clock sounded the half-hour.
"Ten-thirty!" I said. "A late visitor. Show him up, if you please."
I pushed my writing aside and tilted the lamp-shade, as footsteps
sounded on the landing. The next moment I had jumped to my feet,
for a tall, lean man, with his square-cut, clean-shaven face
sun-baked to the hue of coffee, entered and extended both hands,
with a cry:
"Good old Petrie! Didn't expect me, I'll swear!"
It was Nayland Smith--whom I had thought to be in Burma!
"Smith," I said, and gripped his hands hard, "this is a delightful surprise!
Whatever--however--"
"Excuse me, Petrie!" he broke in. "Don't put it down to the sun!"
And he put out the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
I was too surprised to speak.
"No doubt you will think me mad," he continued, and, dimly,
I could see him at the window, peering out into the road,
"but before you are many hours older you will know that I
have good reason to be cautious. Ah, nothing suspicious!
Perhaps I am first this time." And, stepping back to the
writing-table he relighted the lamp.
"Mysterious enough for you?" he laughed, and glanced at my unfinished MS.
"A story, eh? From which I gather that the district is beastly healthy--
what, Petrie? Well, I can put some material in your way that, if sheer
uncanny mystery is a marketable commodity, ought to make you independent
of influenza and broken legs and shattered nerves and all the rest."
I surveyed him doubtfully, but there was nothing in his appearance
to justify me in supposing him to suffer from delusions. His eyes
were too bright, certainly, and a hardness now had crept over his face.
I got out the whisky and siphon, saying:
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