Nayland Smith suddenly turned and stared grimly at the speaker.

“I call it death,” he said harshly, “to be carried off to the interior of China, to be made a mere slave, having no will but the great and evil man who already—­already, mark you!—­has actually accomplished such things.”

“But Sir Baldwin——­”

“Sir Baldwin Frazer,” snapped Smith, “is the undisputed head of his particular branch of surgery.  Dr. Fu-Manchu may have what he deems useful employment for such skill as his.  But,” glancing at the clock, “we are wasting time.  Your story, Mr. Logan.”

“It was about half-past twelve last night,” began the secretary, closing his eyes as if he were concentrating his mind upon certain past events, “when a woman came here and inquired for Sir Baldwin.  The butler informed her that Sir Baldwin was entertaining friends and that he could receive no professional visitors until the morning.  She was so insistent, however, absolutely declining to go away, that I was sent for—­I have rooms in the house—­and I came down to interview her in the library.”

“Be very accurate, Mr. Logan,” interrupted Smith, “in your description of this visitor.”

“I shall do my best,” pursued Logan, closing his eyes again in concentrated thought.  “She wore evening dress, of a fantastic kind, markedly Oriental in character, and had large gold rings in her ears.  A green embroidered shawl, with raised figures of white birds as a design, took the place of a cloak.  It was certainly of Eastern workmanship, possibly Arab; and she wore it about her shoulders with one corner thrown over her head—­again, something like a burnous.  She was extremely dark, had jet-black, frizzy hair and very remarkable eyes, the finest of their type I have ever seen.  She possessed beauty of a sort, of course, but without being exactly vulgar, it was what I may term ostentatious; and as I entered the library I found myself at a loss to define her exact place in society—­you understand what I mean?”

We all nodded comprehendingly and awaited with intense interest the resumption of the story.  Mr. Logan had vividly described the Eurasian Zarmi, the creature of Dr. Fu-Manchu.

“When the woman addressed me,” he continued, “my surmise that she was some kind of half-caste, probably a Eurasian, was confirmed by her broken English.  I shall not be misunderstood”—­a slight embarrassment became perceptible in his manner—­“if I say that the visitor quite openly tried to bewitch me; and since we are all human, you will perhaps condone my conduct when I add that she succeeded, in a measure, inasmuch as I consented to speak to Sir Baldwin, although he was actually playing bridge at the time.

“Either my eloquence, or, to put it bluntly, the extraordinary fee which the woman offered, resulted in Sir Baldwin’s agreeing to abandon his friends and accompany the visitor in a cab which was waiting to see the patient.”