Not a word did she utter, and I was stricken dumb as one who has plucked the Flower of Silence.  Only those wondrous eyes seemed to look into my soul, searing, consuming me.

Fu-Manchu had been speaking for some time ere my brain began again to record his words.

“——­and this magnanimity,” came dully to my ears, “extends to you, Dr. Petrie, because of my esteem.  I have little cause to love Karamaneh”—­his voice quivered furiously—­“but she can yet be of use to me, and I would not harm a hair of her beautiful head—­except in the event of your obstinacy.  Shall we then determine your immediate future upon the turn of a card, as the gamester within me, within every one of my race, suggests?

“Yes, yes!” came hoarsely.

I fought mentally to restore myself to a full knowledge of what was happening, and I realized that the last words had come from the lips of Sir Baldwin Frazer.

“Dr. Petrie,” Frazer said, still in the same hoarse and unnatural voice, “what else can we do?  At least take the chance of recovering your freedom, for how otherwise can you hope to serve—­your friend....”

“God knows!” I said dully; “do as you wish”—­and cared not to what I had agreed.

Plunging his hand beneath his white overall, the Chinaman who had been referred to as Li-King-Su calmly produced a pack of cards, unemotionally shuffled them and extended the pack to me.

I shook my head grimly, for my hands were tied.  Picking up a lancet from the table, the Chinaman cut the cords which bound me, and again extended the pack.  I took a card and laid it on my knee without even glancing at it.  Fu-Manchu, with his left hand, in turn selected a card, looked at it and then turned its face towards me.

“It would seem, Dr. Petrie,” he said calmly, “that you are fated to remain here as my guest.  You will have the felicity of residing beneath the same roof with Karamaneh.”

The card was the Knave of Diamonds.

Conscious of a sudden excitement, I snatched up the card from my knee.  It was the Queen of Hearts!  For a moment I tasted exultation, then I tossed it upon the floor.  I was not fool enough to suppose that the Chinese Doctor would pay his debt of honor and release me.

“Your star above mine,” said Fu-Manchu, his calm unruffled.  “I place myself in your hands, Sir Baldwin.”

Assisted by his unemotional compatriot, Fu-Manchu discarded the yellow robe, revealing himself in a white singlet in all his gaunt ugliness, and extended his frame upon the operating-table.

Li-King-Su ignited the large lamp over the head of the table, and from his case took out a trephine.

* * * * * * *

“Other points for your guidance from my own considerable store of experience”—­Fu-Manchu was speaking—­“are written out clearly in the notebook which lies upon the table....”

His voice, now, was toneless, emotionless, as though his part in the critical operation about to be performed were that of a spectator.  No trace of nervousness, of fear, could I discern; his pulse was practically normal.