The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu | Page 8

interior of
China--a seething pot, Petrie! They had to stop the leakage of information. He is here for
that."
The car pulled up with a jerk that pitched me out of my seat, and the chauffeur leaped to
the road and ran ahead. Smith was out in a trice, as the man, who had run up to a
constable, came racing back.
"Jump in, sir--jump in!" he cried, his eyes bright with the lust of the chase; "they are
making for Battersea!"
And we were off again.
Through the empty streets we roared on. A place of gasometers and desolate waste lots
slipped behind and we were in a narrow way where gates of yards and a few lowly
houses faced upon a prospect of high blank wall.
"Thames on our right," said Smith, peering ahead. "His rathole is by the river as usual.
Hi!"-- he grabbed up the speaking-tube--"Stop! Stop!"
The limousine swung in to the narrow sidewalk, and pulled up close by a yard gate. I, too,
had seen our quarry--a long, low bodied car, showing no inside lights. It had turned the
next corner, where a street lamp shone greenly, not a hundred yards ahead.
Smith leaped out, and I followed him.
"That must be a cul de sac," he said, and turned to the eager-eyed chauffeur. "Run back to
that last turning," he ordered, "and wait there, out of sight. Bring the car up when you

hear a police-whistle."
The man looked disappointed, but did not question the order. As he began to back away,
Smith grasped me by the arm and drew me forward.
"We must get to that corner," he said, "and see where the car stands, without showing
ourselves."

CHAPTER III
THE WIRE JACKET
I suppose we were not more than a dozen paces from the lamp when we heard the
thudding of the motor. The car was backing out!
It was a desperate moment, for it seemed that we could not fail to be discovered. Nayland
Smith began to look about him, feverishly, for a hiding-place, a quest in which I
seconded with equal anxiety. And Fate was kind to us--doubly kind as after events
revealed. A wooden gate broke the expanse of wall hard by upon the right, and, as the
result of some recent accident, a ragged gap had been torn in the panels close to the top.
The chain of the padlock hung loosely; and in a second Smith was up, with his foot in
this as in a stirrup. He threw his arm over the top and drew himself upright. A second
later he was astride the broken gate.
"Up you come, Petrie!" he said, and reached down his hand to aid me.
I got my foot into the loop of chain, grasped at a projection in the gatepost and found
myself up.
"There is a crossbar on this side to stand on," said Smith.
He climbed over and vanished in the darkness. I was still astride the broken gate when
the car turned the corner, slowly, for there was scanty room; but I was standing upon the
bar on the inside and had my head below the gap ere the driver could possibly have seen
me.
"Stay where you are until he passes," hissed my companion, below. "There is a row of
kegs under you."
The sound of the motor passing outside grew loud--louder--then began to die away. I felt
about with my left foot; discerned the top of a keg, and dropped, panting, beside Smith.
"Phew!" I said--"that was a close thing! Smith--how do we know--"
"That we have followed the right car?" he interrupted. "Ask yourself the question: what

would any ordinary man be doing motoring in a place like this at two o'clock in the
morning?"
"You are right, Smith," I agreed. "Shall we get out again?"
"Not yet. I have an idea. Look yonder."
He grasped my arm, turning me in the desired direction.
Beyond a great expanse of unbroken darkness a ray of moonlight slanted into the place
wherein we stood, spilling its cold radiance upon rows of kegs.
"That's another door," continued my friend--I now began dimly to perceive him beside
me. "If my calculations are not entirely wrong, it opens on a wharf gate--"
A steam siren hooted dismally, apparently from quite close at hand.
"I'm right!" snapped Smith. "That turning leads down to the gate. Come on, Petrie!"
He directed the light of the electric torch upon a narrow path through the ranks of casks,
and led the way to the further door. A good two feet of moonlight showed along the top. I
heard Smith straining; then--
"These kegs are all loaded with grease!" he said, "and I want to reconnoiter over that
door."
"I am leaning on a