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The Return of Dr. Fu Manchu

whoever was with the car to make good his escape. And exhausted
from loss of blood, its capture is only a matter of time, Petrie."
Nayland Smith returned from the telephone. Nearly twenty-four
hours had elapsed since the awful death of Burke.
"No news, Petrie," he said, shortly. "It must have crept into
some inaccessible hole to die."
I glanced up from my notes. Smith settled into the white cane
armchair, and began to surround himself with clouds of aromatic
smoke. I took up a half-sheet of foolscap covered with penciled
writing in my friend's cramped characters, and transcribed the
following, in order to complete my account of the latest Fu-
Manchu outrage:
"The Amharun, a Semitic tribe allied to the Falashas, who have
been settled for many generations in the southern province of Shoa
(Abyssinia) have been regarded as unclean and outcast, apparently
since the days of Menelek—son of Suleyman and the Queen of
Sheba—from whom they claim descent. Apart from their custom
of eating meat cut from living beasts, they are accursed because of
their alleged association with the Cynocephalus hamadryas (Sacred
Baboon). I, myself, was taken to a hut on the banks of the Hawash
and shown a creature... whose predominant trait was an
unreasoning malignity toward... and a ferocious tenderness for the
society of its furry brethren. Its powers of scent were fully equal to
those of a bloodhound, whilst its abnormally long forearms
possessed incredible strength... a Cynocephalyte such as this,