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The Return of Dr. Fu Manchu

"I should present myself before the important meeting, which, I
am assured, is being held somewhere in this building; and to-night
would see the end of my struggle with the Fu-Manchu group—the
end of the whole Yellow menace! For not only is Fu-Manchu here,
Petrie, with all his gang of assassins, but he whom I believe to be
the real head of the group—a certain mandarin—is here also!"
Smith stepped quietly across the room and tried the door. It
proved to be unlocked, and an instant later, we were both outside
in the passage. Coincident with our arrival there, arose a sudden
outcry from some place at the westward end. A high-pitched,
grating voice, in which guttural notes alternated with a serpent-like
hissing, was raised in anger.
"Dr. Fu-Manchu!" whispered Smith, grasping my arm.
Indeed, it was the unmistakable voice of the Chinaman, raised
hysterically in one of those outbursts which in the past I had
diagnosed as symptomatic of dangerous mania.
The voice rose to a scream, the scream of some angry animal
rather than anything human. Then, chokingly, it ceased. Another
short sharp cry followed—but not in the voice of Fu-Manchu—a
dull groan, and the sound of a fall.
With Smith still grasping my wrist, I shrank back into the
doorway, as something that looked in the darkness like a great ball
of fluff came rapidly along the passage toward me. Just at my feet
the thing stopped and I made it out for a small animal. The tiny,
gleaming eyes looked up at me, and, chattering wickedly, the
creature bounded past and was lost from view.