Some dim perceptions of the truth was beginning to creep into my mind.  When I say a perception of the truth, I mean rather of some part of the purpose of Dr. Fu-Manchu; of the whole horrible truth, of the scheme which had been conceived by that mighty, evil man, I had no glimmering, but I foresaw that a frightful ordeal was before us both.

“That I hold you in high esteem,” continued Fu-Manchu, “is a fact which must be apparent to you by this time, but in regard to your companion, I entertain very different sentiments. . . .”

Always underlying the deliberate calm of the speaker, sometimes showing itself in an unusually deep guttural, sometimes in an unusually serpentine sibilance, lurked the frenzy of hatred which in the past had revealed itself occasionally in wild outbursts.  Momentarily I expected such an outburst now, but it did not come.

“One quality possessed by Mr. Nayland Smith,” resumed the Chinaman, “I admire; I refer to his courage.  I would wish that so courageous a man should seek his own end, should voluntarily efface himself from the path of that world-movement which he is powerless to check.  In short, I would have him show himself a samurai.  Always his friend, you shall remain so to the end, Dr. Petrie.  I have arranged for this.”

He struck lightly a little silver gong, dependent from the corner of the table, whereupon, from the curtained doorway, there entered a short, thickly built Burman whom I recognized for a dacoit.  He wore a shoddy blue suit, which had been made for a much larger man; but these things claimed little of my attention, which automatically was directed to the load beneath which the Burman labored.

Upon his back he carried a sort of wire box rather less than six feet long, some two feet high, and about two feet wide.  In short, it was a stout framework covered with fine wire-netting on the top, sides and ends, but being open at the bottom.  It seemed to be made in five sections or to contain four sliding partitions which could be raised or lowered at will.  These were of wood, and in the bottom of each was cut a little arch.  The arches in the four partitions varied in size, so that whereas the first was not more than five inches high, the fourth opened almost to the wire roof of the box or cage; and a fifth, which was but little higher than the first, was cut in the actual end of the contrivance.

So intent was I upon this device, the purpose of which I was wholly unable to divine, that I directed the whole of my attention upon it.  Then, as the Burman paused in the doorway, resting a corner of the cage upon the brilliant carpet, I glanced toward Fu-Manchu.  He was watching Nayland Smith, and revealing his irregular yellow teeth—­the teeth of an opium smoker—­in the awful mirthless smile which I knew.

“God!” whispered Smith—­“the Six Gates!”

“The knowledge of my beautiful country serves you well,” replied Fu-Manchu gently.