Instantly I looked to my friend . . . and every drop of blood seemed to recede from my heart, leaving it cold in my breast.  If I did not know the purpose of the cage, obviously Smith knew it all too well.  His pallor had grown more marked, and although his gray eyes stared defiantly at the Chinaman, I, who knew him, could read a deathly horror in their depths.

The dacoit, in obedience to a guttural order from Dr. Fu-Manchu, placed the cage upon the carpet, completely covering Smith’s body, but leaving his neck and head exposed.  The seared and pock-marked face set in a sort of placid leer, the dacoit adjusted the sliding partitions to Smith’s recumbent form, and I saw the purpose of the graduated arches.  They were intended to divide a human body in just such fashion, and, as I realized, were most cunningly shaped to that end.  The whole of Smith’s body lay now in the wire cage, each of the five compartments whereof was shut off from its neighbor.

The Burman stepped back and stood waiting in the doorway.  Dr. Fu-Manchu, removing his gaze from the face of my friend, directed it now upon me.

“Mr. Commissioner Nayland Smith shall have the honor of acting as hierophant, admitting himself to the Mysteries,” said Fu-Manchu softly, “and you, Dr. Petrie, shall be the Friend.”

CHAPTER XXIX

THE SIX GATES

He glanced toward the Burman, who retired immediately, to re-enter a moment later carrying a curious leather sack, in shape not unlike that of a sakka or Arab water-carrier.  Opening a little trap in the top of the first compartment of the cage (that is, the compartment which covered Smith’s bare feet and ankles) he inserted the neck of the sack, then suddenly seized it by the bottom and shook it vigorously.  Before my horrified gaze four huge rats came tumbling out from the bag into the cage!  The dacoit snatched away the sack and snapped the shutter fast.  A moving mist obscured my sight, a mist through which I saw the green eyes of Dr. Fu-Manchu fixed upon me, and through which, as from a great distance, his voice, sunk to a snake-like hiss, came to my ears.

“Cantonese rats, Dr. Petrie, the most ravenous in the world . . . they have eaten nothing for nearly a week!”

Then all became blurred as though a painter with a brush steeped in red had smudged out the details of the picture.  For an indefinite period, which seemed like many minutes yet probably was only a few seconds, I saw nothing and heard nothing; my sensory nerves were dulled entirely.  From this state I was awakened and brought back to the realities by a sound which ever afterward I was doomed to associate with that ghastly scene.

This was the squealing of the rats.

The red mist seemed to disperse at that, and with frightfully intense interest, I began to study the awful torture to which Nayland Smith was being subjected.  The dacoit had disappeared, and Fu-Manchu placidly was watching the four lean and hideous animals in the cage.  As I also turned my eyes in that direction, the rats overcame their temporary fear, and began . . .