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Page 34
Nayland Smith fixed a piercing gaze upon Burke.
"Is that all you know?" he demanded slowly.
"As God is my judge, sir, that's all I know, and all I saw. There was
no living thing near him when he met his death."
"We shall see," muttered Smith. He turned to me--"What killed him?" he
asked, shortly.
"Apparently, a minute wound on the left wrist," I replied, and,
stooping, I raised the already cold hand in mine.
A tiny, inflamed wound showed on the wrist; and a certain puffiness
was becoming observable in the injured hand and arm. Smith bent down
and drew a quick, sibilant breath.
"You know what this is, Petrie?" he cried.
"Certainly. It was too late to employ a ligature and useless to inject
ammonia. Death was practically instantaneous. His heart . . ."
There came a loud knocking and ringing.
"Carter!" cried Smith, turning to the detective, "open that door to no
one--no one. Explain who I am--"
"But if it is the inspector?--"
"I said, open the door to no one!" snapped Smith.
"Burke, stand exactly where you are! Carter, you can speak to whoever
knocks, through the letter-box. Petrie, don't move for your life! It
may be here, in the hallway!--"
CHAPTER IX
THE CLIMBER
Our search of the house of Abel Slattin ceased only with the coming of
the dawn, and yielded nothing but disappointment. Failure followed
upon failure; for, in the gray light of the morning, our own quest
concluded, Inspector Weymouth returned to report that the girl,
Karamaneh, had thrown him off the scent.
Again he stood before me, the big, burly friend of old and dreadful
days, a little grayer above the temples, which I set down for a record
of former horrors, but deliberate, stoical, thorough, as ever. His
blue eyes melted in the old generous way as he saw me, and he gripped
my hand in greeting.
"Once again," he said, "your dark-eyed friend has been too clever for
me, Doctor. But the track as far as I could follow, leads to the old
spot. In fact,"--he turned to Smith, who, grim-faced and haggard,
looked thoroughly ill in that gray light--"I believe Fu-Manchu's lair
is somewhere near the former opium-den of Shen-Yan--'Singapore
Charlie.'"
Smith nodded.
"We will turn our attention in that direction," he replied, "at a very
early date."
Inspector Weymouth looked down at the body of Abel Slattin.
"How was it done?" he asked softly.
"Clumsily for Fu-Manchu," I replied. "A snake was introduced into the
house by some means--"
"By Karamaneh!" rapped Smith.
"Very possibly by Karamaneh," I continued firmly. "The thing has
escaped us."
"My own idea," said Smith, "is that it was concealed about his
clothing. When he fell by the open door it glided out of the house. We
must have the garden searched thoroughly by daylight."
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