A silence fell.

The strange facts regarding the sudden death of Page le Roi, which I now heard for the first time, had impressed me unpleasantly, coming from a man of Sir Lionel Barton’s experience and reputation.

“How long had it lain in the docks?” jerked Smith.

“For two days, I believe.  I am not a superstitious man, Mr. Smith, but neither is Professor Rembold, and now that I know the facts respecting Page le Roi, I can find it in my heart to thank God that I did not see . . . whatever came out of that sarcophagus.”

Nayland Smith stared him hard in the face.  “I am glad you did not, Sir Lionel,” he said; “for whatever the priest Mekara has to do with the matter, by means of his sarcophagus, Dr. Fu-Manchu has made his first attempt upon your life.  He has failed, but I hope you will accompany me from here to a hotel.  He will not fail twice.”

CHAPTER XII

It was the night following that of the double tragedy at Rowan House.  Nayland Smith, with Inspector Weymouth, was engaged in some mysterious inquiry at the docks, and I had remained at home to resume my strange chronicle.  And—­why should I not confess it?—­my memories had frightened me.

I was arranging my notes respecting the case of Sir Lionel Barton.  They were hopelessly incomplete.  For instance, I had jotted down the following queries:—­(1) Did any true parallel exist between the death of M. Page le Roi and the death of Kwee, the Chinaman, and of Strozza? (2) What had become of the mummy of Mekara? (3) How had the murderer escaped from a locked room? (4) What was the purpose of the rubber stopper? (5) Why was Kwee hiding in the conservatory? (6) Was the green mist a mere subjective hallucination—­a figment of Croxted’s imagination—­ or had he actually seen it?

Until these questions were satisfactorily answered, further progress was impossible.  Nayland Smith frankly admitted that he was out of his depth.  “It looks, on the face of it, more like a case for the Psychical Research people than for a plain Civil Servant, lately of Mandalay,” he had said only that morning.

“Sir Lionel Barton really believes that supernatural agencies were brought into operation by the opening of the high priest’s coffin.  For my part, even if I believed the same, I should still maintain that Dr. Fu-Manchu controlled those manifestations.  But reason it out for yourself and see if we arrive at any common center.  Don’t work so much upon the datum of the green mist, but keep to the facts which are established.”

I commenced to knock out my pipe in the ash-tray; then paused, pipe in hand.  The house was quite still, for my landlady and all the small household were out.

Above the noise of the passing tramcar I thought I had heard the hall door open.  In the ensuing silence I sat and listened.

Not a sound.  Stay!  I slipped my hand into the table drawer, took out my revolver, and stood up.