“At the same place?”

“At the same hotel; but he occupied a different room.  Here is the extraordinary part of the affair:  a friend shared the room with him, and actually saw him go!”

“Saw him leap from the window?”

“Yes.  The friend—­an Englishman—­was aroused by the uncanny wailing.  I was in Rangoon at the time, so that I know more of the case of Lafitte than of that of the American.  I spoke to the man about it personally.  He was an electrical engineer, Edward Martin, and he told me that the cry seemed to come from above him.”

“It seemed to come from above when we heard it at Fu-Manchu’s house.”

“Martin sat up in bed, it was a clear moonlight night—­ the sort of moonlight you get in Burma.  Lafitte, for some reason, had just gone to the window.  His friend saw him look out.  The next moment with a dreadful scream, he threw himself forward—­ and crashed down into the courtyard!”

“What then?”

“Martin ran to the window and looked down. 
Lafitte’s scream had aroused the place, of course. 
But there was absolutely nothing to account for the occurrence. 
There was no balcony, no ledge, by means of which anyone could
reach the window.”

“But how did you come to recognize the cry?”

“I stopped at the Palace Mansions for some time; and one night this uncanny howling aroused me.  I heard it quite distinctly, and am never likely to forget it.  It was followed by a hoarse yell.  The man in the next room, an orchid hunter, had gone the same way as the others!”

“Did you change your quarters?”

“No.  Fortunately for the reputation of the hotel—­a first-class establishment—­ several similar cases occurred elsewhere, both in Rangoon, in Prome and in Moulmein.  A story got about the native quarter, and was fostered by some mad fakir, that the god Siva was reborn and that the cry was his call for victims; a ghastly story, which led to an outbreak of dacoity and gave the District Superintendent no end of trouble.”

“Was there anything unusual about the bodies?”

“They all developed marks after death, as though they had been strangled!  The marks were said all to possess a peculiar form, though it was not appreciable to my eye; and this, again, was declared to be the five heads of Siva.”

“Were the deaths confined to Europeans?”

“Oh, no.  Several Burmans and others died in the same way.  At first there was a theory that the victims had contracted leprosy and committed suicide as a result; but the medical evidence disproved that.  The Call of Siva became a perfect nightmare throughout Burma.”

“Did you ever hear it again, before this evening?”

“Yes.  I heard it on the Upper Irrawaddy one clear, moonlight night, and a Colassie—­a deck-hand—­leaped from the top deck of the steamer aboard which I was traveling!  My God! to think that the fiend Fu-Manchu has brought That to England!”