The Hand Of Fu-Manchu Being a New Phase in the Activities of Fu-Manchu, the Devil Doctor

up and down our sitting-room, "not, as of old, with Dr. Fu

e!" I cried, "wha

r some time in England, engaged in 'paving the way' (I believe those words were my own) for nothing less than a giant Yellow Em

empe

is restless pacing imme

mpress, Petri

rbal thunderbolt; I found myself

an emperor but of an empress. Finally, there is a persistent tradition throughout the Far East that such a woman will one day rule over the known peoples. I was assured some years ago, by a very learned pundit, that a princess of incalcula

greater ama

e no longer youn

ages. In short, she is the archetype of Lamaism. The real secret of Lama celibacy is the existence of this immaculate ruler, of whom the Grand Lama is merely a high p

d, "this is utt

te, but blind; for it is death t

up imp

using yours

y shoulders, in his own impulsive fash

culars as though I gave them credence. Much of this is legendary, I know, so

vities of Dr. Fu-Manchu were merely a part. Hale blundered on to this stupendous business; and from what I have gathered from Beeton and what I have seen for myself, it is evident that in yonder coffer"-he pointed to the brass chest standing ha

ossibilities fought for

half-caste woman whom

h shrugged h

yah!" he said; but there was an odd note

arning concerning 'the man with the limp' was

no. Hale's fate rende

r I was with him when

How did he die? How

troduced into his cl

wer of S

shortly and

on the outskirts of Manipur, up in the hills. When I arrived I say at a glance that the man was a Tibetan monk. He must have crossed the river and come down through Assam; but the nature of his message I never knew. He had lost the power of speech!

ilence in his hand!' he

d bolted fr

touch it with my fingers naturally, but I managed to loop a piece of twine around the stem, and by that means I ging

urcas family. He discovered a sort of hollow thorn, almost like a fang, amongst the blooms, but was unable to surmise the na

e breaking o

cs accept their sentence- silence and death-when they have deserved it, at the hands of their mysterious organization, and commit this novel form of hara-kiri. But I shall not sl

you direct me to-nigh

ya M

in a very g

ted that the Flower of Silence was an instrument frequently employed by a certain group, adding that, according to some authorities, one who had touched the flower might

e, since the first effects of this damnable thing is instantly to tie the tongue, the uttering of the sacred name

tmosphere of horror seemed

ss I am strangely mistaken, the 'man' who so mysteriously entered Hale's room and the supposed ayah whom I m

m the river and the reports of fog signals from the railways, I concluded that the night was not yet wholly clear of the choking mist. In accordance with a pre-arranged scheme we had decided to guard "the key of India" (what

m somewhere up above me; but since the corridor overhead was unfinished and none of the rooms opening upon it yet habitable, I concluded that I had been

our. But still I sat beside the mysterious coffer, indisposed to awaken my friend

to awaken Nayland Smith at four; and because I dallied, determined to finish my pipe ere enter

nce, I crossed the room and pushed open the door of Smith's bedroom. It was in darkness, but as I entered I d

in its aspect, but at first I found this difference difficult to define. I stood fo

wered at the pleasure of the occupant. When Smith had retired he was in no reading mood, and

the pillow that the silken fringe of the shade almost touched my friend's face

tion had been too late, were it not that, glancing upward toward the wooden block from which ordinarily the pendant hung, I

dden to my lips, I sprang wildly across th

e lamp-shade, so as almost to rest upon the cheek of the sleep

d my gaze was set; and I glimpsed a yellow hand, with long, pointed finger nails. There came a loud resounding snap; an electric spark spat venomously from the ci

ed in pyjamas, jumping out upo

cried, "where are you

escaped me. I gathered myself up an

id not recognize my own voice.

upon it. Nayland Smith, still wild-eyed, and his face a mask o

emanded, and began clutching at the lobe of his

knows when, for since we engaged these rooms we have not been much away from them … the

. He drew himself stiffly upright, and in a loud, harsh vo

aid shakily. "I

ng of glass, poured out two sti

's that?" h

ening, his head cast

rceptible, coming, as I thought, from the incomple

the limp!" w

one hand upon the bolt, when he turned

ere are occasions whe

ust leave these