Nayland raised his haggard face.

“He evidently made more than was necessary to dispatch Sir Lionel Barton,” he said; “and contemptuously—­you note the attitude, Petrie?—­ contemptuously devoted the surplus to me.  His contempt is justified.  I am a child striving to cope with a mental giant.  It is by no wit of mine that Dr. Fu-Manchu scores a double failure.”

CHAPTER XIII

I will tell you, now of a strange dream which I dreamed, and of the stranger things to which I awakened.  Since, out of a blank—­a void—­this vision burst in upon my mind, I cannot do better than relate it, without preamble.  It was thus: 

I dreamed that I lay writhing on the floor in agony indescribable.  My veins were filled with liquid fire, and but that stygian darkness was about me, I told myself that I must have seen the smoke arising from my burning body.

This, I thought, was death.

Then, a cooling shower descended upon me, soaked through skin and tissue to the tortured arteries and quenched the fire within.  Panting, but free from pain, I lay—­exhausted.

Strength gradually returning to me, I tried to rise; but the carpet felt so singularly soft that it offered me no foothold.  I waded and plunged like a swimmer treading water; and all about me rose impenetrable walls of darkness, darkness all but palpable.  I wondered why I could not see the windows.  The horrible idea flashed to my mind that I was become blind!

Somehow I got upon my feet, and stood swaying dizzily.  I became aware of a heavy perfume, and knew it for some kind of incense.

Then—­a dim light was born, at an immeasurable distance away.  It grew steadily in brilliance.  It spread like a bluish-red stain—­ like a liquid.  It lapped up the darkness and spread throughout the room.

But this was not my room!  Nor was it any room known to me.

It was an apartment of such size that its dimensions filled me with a kind of awe such as I never had known:  the awe of walled vastness.  Its immense extent produced a sensation of sound.  Its hugeness had a distinct note.

Tapestries covered the four walls.  There was no door visible.  These tapestries were magnificently figured with golden dragons; and as the serpentine bodies gleamed and shimmered in the increasing radiance, each dragon, I thought, intertwined its glittering coils more closely with those of another.  The carpet was of such richness that I stood knee-deep in its pile.  And this, too, was fashioned all over with golden dragons; and they seemed to glide about amid the shadows of the design—­stealthily.

At the farther end of the hall—­for hall it was—­a huge table with dragons’ legs stood solitary amid the luxuriance of the carpet.  It bore scintillating globes, and tubes that held living organisms, and books of a size and in such bindings as I never had imagined, with instruments of a type unknown to Western science—­a heterogeneous litter quite indescribable, which overflowed on to the floor, forming an amazing oasis in a dragon-haunted desert of carpet.  A lamp hung above this table, suspended by golden chains from the ceiling—­which was so lofty that, following the chains upward, my gaze lost itself in the purple shadows above.