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The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu | Sax Rohmer | |
The Cry Of A Nighthawk |
Page 2 of 4 |
"Where's your patient?" rapped Smith. His abrupt query diverted my thoughts into a new channel. No footstep disturbed the silence of the highroad; where was my patient? I craned from the window. Smith grabbed my arm. "Don't lean out," he said. I drew back, glancing at him surprisedly. "For Heaven's sake, why not?" "I'll tell you presently, Petrie. Did you see him?" "I did, and I can't make out what he is doing. He seems to have remained standing at the gate for some reason." "He has seen it!" snapped Smith. "Watch those elms." His hand remained upon my arm, gripping it nervously. Shall I say that I was surprised? I can say it with truth. But I shall add that I was thrilled, eerily; for this subdued excitement and alert watching of Smith could only mean one thing: Fu-Manchu! And that was enough to set me watching as keenly as he; to set me listening; not only for sounds outside the house but for sounds within. Doubts, suspicions, dreads, heaped themselves up in my mind. Why was Forsyth standing there at the gate? I had never seen him before, to my knowledge, yet there was something oddly reminiscent about the man. Could it be that his visit formed part of a plot? Yet his wound had been genuine enough. Thus my mind worked, feverishly; such was the effect of an unspoken thought--Fu-Manchu. Nayland Smith's grip tightened on my arm. "There it is again, Petrie!" he whispered. "Look, look!" |
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The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer |
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