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Page 65
Why I did not admit failure I cannot imagine, but, instead, I began to
tax my brains anew for some means of gaining further time; and, as I
looked about the place, the shopman very patiently awaiting my
departure, I observed an open case at the back of the counter. The
three lower shelves were empty, but upon the fourth shelf squatted a
silver Buddha.
"I should like to examine the silver image yonder," I said; "what
price are you asking for it?"
"It is not for sale, sir," replied the man, with a greater show of
animation than he had yet exhibited.
"Not for sale!" I said, my eyes ever seeking the curtained doorway;
"how's that?"
"It is sold."
"Well, even so, there can be no objection to my examining it?"
"It is not for sale, sir."
Such a rebuff from a tradesman would have been more than sufficient to
call for a sharp retort at any other time, but now it excited the
strangest suspicions. The street outside looked comparatively
deserted, and prompted, primarily, by an emotion which I did not pause
to analyze, I adopted a singular measure; without doubt I relied upon
the unusual powers vested in Nayland Smith to absolve me in the event
of error. I made as if to go out into the street, then turned, leaped
past the shopman, ran behind the counter, and grasped at the silver
Buddha!
That I was likely to be arrested for attempted larceny I cared not;
the idea that Karamaneh was concealed somewhere in the building ruled
absolutely, and a theory respecting this silver image had taken
possession of my mind. Exactly what I expected to happen at that
moment I cannot say, but what actually happened was far more startling
than anything I could have imagined.
At the instant that I grasped the figure I realized that it was
attached to the woodwork; in the next I knew that it was a handle
. . . as I tried to pull it toward me I became aware that this handle
was the handle of a door. For that door swung open before me, and I
found myself at the foot of a flight of heavily carpeted stairs.
Anxious as I had been to proceed a moment before, I was now trebly
anxious to retire, and for this reason: on the bottom step of the
stair, facing me, stood Dr. Fu-Manchu!
CHAPTER XIX
DR. FU-MANCHU'S LABORATORY
I cannot conceive that any ordinary mortal ever attained to anything
like an intimacy with Dr. Fu-Manchu; I cannot believe that any man
could ever grow used to his presence, could ever cease to fear him. I
suppose I had set eyes upon Fu-Manchu some five or six times prior to
this occasion, and now he was dressed in the manner which I always
associated with him, probably because it was thus I first saw him. He
wore a plain yellow robe, and, with his pointed chin resting upon his
bosom, he looked down at me, revealing a great expanse of the
marvelous brow with its sparse, neutral-colored hair.
Never in my experience have I known such force to dwell in the glance
of any human eye as dwelt in that of this uncanny being. His singular
affliction (if affliction it were), the film or slight membrane which
sometimes obscured the oblique eyes, was particularly evident at the
moment that I crossed the threshold, but now, as I looked up at Dr.
Fu-Manchu, it lifted--revealing the eyes in all their emerald
greenness.
The idea of physical attack upon this incredible being seemed childish
--inadequate. But, following that first instant of stupefaction, I
forced myself to advance upon him.
A dull, crushing blow descended on the top of my skull, and I became
oblivious of all things.
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