Our search of the house of Abel Slattin ceased only with the coming of the dawn, and
yielded nothing but disappointment. Failure followed upon failure; for, in the gray light
of the morning, our own quest concluded, Inspector Weymouth returned to report that the
girl, Karamaneh, had thrown him off the scent.
Again he stood before me, the big, burly friend of old and dreadful days, a little grayer
above the temples, which I set down for a record of former horrors, but deliberate,
stoical, thorough, as ever. His blue eyes melted in the old generous way as he saw me,
and he gripped my hand in greeting.
"Once again," he said, "your dark-eyed friend has been too clever for me, Doctor. But the
track as far as I could follow, leads to the old spot. In fact,"--he turned to Smith, who,
grim-faced and haggard, looked thoroughly ill in that gray light--"I believe Fu-Manchu's
lair is somewhere near the former opium-den of Shen-Yan--'Singapore Charlie.'"
"We will turn our attention in that direction," he replied, "at a very early date."
Inspector Weymouth looked down at the body of Abel Slattin.
"How was it done?" he asked softly.
"Clumsily for Fu-Manchu," I replied. "A snake was introduced into the house by some
means--"
"By Karamaneh!" rapped Smith.
"Very possibly by Karamaneh," I continued firmly. "The thing has escaped us."
"My own idea," said Smith, "is that it was concealed about his clothing. When he fell by
the open door it glided out of the house. We must have the garden searched thoroughly
by daylight."
"He"--Weymouth glanced at that which lay upon the floor--"must be moved; but
otherwise we can leave the place untouched, clear out the servants, and lock the house
up."
"I have already given orders to that effect," answered Smith. He spoke wearily and with a
note of conscious defeat in his voice. "Nothing has been disturbed;"--he swept his arm
around comprehensively--"papers and so forth you can examine at leisure."
