“I do, Petrie!” His voice sounded very far away. “Fu-Manchu is here; and Eltham, God help him... is his first victim!”
CHAPTER II. ELTHAM VANISHES
Smith went racing down the stairs like a man possessed. Heavy with such a foreboding of calamity as I had not known for two years, I followed him—along the hall and out into the road. The very peace and beauty of the night in some way increased my mental agitation. The sky was lighted almost tropically with such a blaze of stars as I could not recall to have seen since, my futile search concluded, I had left Egypt. The glory of the moonlight yellowed the lamps speckled across the expanse of the common. The night was as still as night can ever be in London. The dimming pulse of a cab or car alone disturbed the stillness.
With a quick glance to right and left, Smith ran across on to the common, and, leaving the door wide open behind me, I followed. The path which Eltham had pursued terminated almost opposite to my house. One’s gaze might follow it, white and empty, for several hundred yards past the pond, and further, until it became overshadowed and was lost amid a clump of trees.
I came up with Smith, and side by side we ran on, whilst pantingly, I told my tale.
“It was a trick to get you away from him!” cried Smith. “They meant no doubt to make some attempt at your house, but as he came out with you, an alternative plan—”
Abreast of the pond, my companion slowed down, and finally stopped.
“Where did you last see Eltham?” he asked rapidly.
I took his arm, turning him slightly to the right, and pointed across the moonbathed common.
“You see that clump of bushes on the other side of the road?” I said. “There’s a path to the left of it. I took that path and he took this. We parted at the point where they meet—”
Smith walked right down to the edge of the water and peered about over the surface.
What he hoped to find there I could not imagine. Whatever it had been he was disappointed, and he turned to me again,
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