UPON the following day we were afoot again, and shortly at handgrips with the enemy.
In retrospect, that restless time offers a chaotic prospect, with no peaceful spot amid its
turmoils.
All that was reposeful in nature seemed to have become an irony and a mockery to us--
who knew how an evil demigod had his sacrificial altars amid our sweetest groves. This
idea ruled strongly in my mind upon that soft autumnal day.
"The net is closing in," said Nayland Smith.
"Let us hope upon a big catch," I replied, with a laugh.
Beyond where the Thames tided slumberously seaward showed the roofs of Royal
Windsor, the castle towers showing through the autumn haze. The peace of beautiful
Thames-side was about us.
This was one of the few tangible clews upon which thus far we had chanced; but at last it
seemed indeed that we were narrowing the resources of that enemy of the white race who
was writing his name over England in characters of blood. To capture Dr. Fu-Manchu we
did not hope; but at least there was every promise of destroying one of the enemy's
strongholds.
We had circled upon the map a tract of country cut by the Thames, with Windsor for its
center. Within that circle was the house from which miraculously we had escaped--a
house used by the most highly organized group in the history of criminology. So much
we knew. Even if we found the house, and this was likely enough, to find it vacated by
Fu-Manchu and his mysterious servants we were prepared. But it would be a base
destroyed.
We were working upon a methodical plan, and although our cooperators were invisible,
these numbered no fewer than twelve--all of them experienced men. Thus far we had
drawn blank, but the place for which Smith and I were making now came clearly into
view: an old mansion situated in extensive walled grounds. Leaving the river behind us,
we turned sharply to the right along a lane flanked by a high wall. On an open patch of
ground, as we passed, I noted a gypsy caravan. An old woman was seated on the steps,
her wrinkled face bent, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.
I scarcely glanced at her, but pressed on, nor did I notice that my friend no longer was
beside me. I was all anxiety to come to some point from whence I might obtain a view of
the house; all anxiety to know if this was the abode of our mysterious enemy--the place
where he worked amid his weird company, where he bred his deadly scorpions and his
bacilli, reared his poisonous fungi, from whence he dispatched his murder ministers.
Above all, perhaps, I wondered if this would prove to be the hiding-place of the beautiful
