Wildside Press

impression of the Honourable Peter Wellingham. The secretary who had received him was an attractive Eurasian, and many of the volumes on the shelves dealt with the Orient. There were antiques, too, placed here and there between the books, all of Eastern origin.

This was a massive Burmese cabinet of dark wood with a number of fretwork cupboards. It seemed to be built into the wall, and there might be a space behind it.

A tall, gaunt man Stepped out, a man with a phenomenally high brow, crowned with a black cap not unlike a biretta; a man whose strange emerald green eyes seemed to gaze, not at Wellingham but through his skull into his brain. He was unmistakably Chinese, unmistakably an aristocrat, and standing there, wearing a plain yellow robe, he radiated force.

Who is Peter Wellingham?”
Lola looked confused, almost alarmed; but quickly recovered composure.
“He’s Lord Chevradale’s son.”
“Do you know him?” There was a note of suspicion in Brian’s voice.
“Not personally. But I have heard that he’s badly in debt.”

was a wonderful face. It might have belonged to a saint—or to the Fallen Angel in person.

young Japanese came in. He wore a white tunic.
“Bring Josef Gorodin here, Matsukata. Then wait in the saloon with two of my Burmese until you hear the gong.”
Matsukata bowed and went out. He returned shortly with a thick-set man, also in white, whose heavy Slavonic features were set in what might have been a permanent scowl. He tried to meet the gaze of emerald-green eyes, but had to look aside. He spoke.
“You wished to see me, Comrade Fu Manchu?”
Dr. Fu Manchu continued to watch him. “You may address me either as Excellency, or as Doctor. Comrade—no! I have offered my services—at my own price—to your masters. This does not mean that I kneel at the shrine of Karl

the power once held by Stalin would be seized by you.”
“My poor Gorodin! The power I shall possess will exceed his wildest dreams.”

I saw you in Pall Mall one afternoon with an uncommonly pretty girl. You Americans seem to be damned popular!”

Dr. Fu Manchu lay still as a dead man, so that his resemblance to the mummy of the long dead Pharaoh Seti I was uncannily increased.

Mankind is spared.” His voice had all its old authority. “My star rises in the East. ...”