In looking over my notes dealing with the second phase of Dr. Fu-Manchu's activities in
England, I find that one of the worst hours of my life was associated with the singular and
seemingly inconsequent adventure of the fiery hand. I shall deal with it in this place,
begging you to bear with me if I seem to digress.
Inspector Weymouth called one morning, shortly after the Van Roon episode, and entered
upon a surprising account of a visit to a house at Hampstead which enjoyed the sinister
reputation of being uninhabitable.
"But in what way does the case enter into your province?" inquired Nayland Smith, idly
tapping out his pipe on a bar of the grate.
We had not long finished breakfast, but from an early hour Smith had been at his eternal
smoking, which only the advent of the meal had interrupted.
"Well," replied the inspector, who occupied a big armchair near the window, "I was sent
to look into it, I suppose, because I had nothing better to do at the moment."
"Ah!" jerked Smith, glancing over his shoulder.
The ejaculation had a veiled significance; for our quest of Dr. Fu-Manchu had come to an
abrupt termination by reason of the fact that all trace of that malignant genius, and of the
group surrounding him, had vanished with the destruction of Cragmire Tower.
"The house is called the Gables," continued the Scotland Yard man, "and I knew I was on
a wild goose chase from the first--"
"Because I was there before, six months ago or so--just before your present return to
England--and I knew what to expect."
Smith looked up with some faint dawning of interest perceptible in his manner.
"I was unaware," he said with a slight smile, "that the cleaning-up of haunted houses
came within the jurisdiction of Scotland Yard. I am learning something."
"In the ordinary way," replied the big man good-humoredly, "it doesn't. But a sudden
death always excites suspicion, and--"
"A sudden death?" I said, glancing up; "you didn't explain that the ghost had killed any
one!"
