The Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu. Sax Rohmer

was peering down at Fu-Manchu’s servant, the hideous yellow man who lay dead in a bower of elm leaves.

      “He has some kind of leather bag beside him,” I began—

      “Exactly!” rapped Smith. “In that he carried his dangerous instrument of death; from that he released it!”

      “Released what?”

      “What your fascinating friend came to recapture this morning.”

      “Don’t taunt me, Smith!” I said bitterly. “Is it some species of bird?”

      “You saw the marks on Forsyth’s body, and I told you of those which I had traced upon the ground here. They were caused by claws, Petrie!”

      “Claws! I thought so! But what claws?”

      “The claws of a poisonous thing. I recaptured the one used last night, killed it—against my will—and buried it on the mound. I was afraid to throw it in the pond, lest some juvenile fisherman should pull it out and sustain a scratch. I don’t know how long the claws would remain venomous.”

      “You are treating me like a child, Smith,” I said slowly. “No doubt I am hopelessly obtuse, but perhaps you will tell me what this Chinaman carried in a leather bag and released upon Forsyth. It was something which you recaptured, apparently with the aid of a plate of cold turbot and a jug of milk! It was something, also, which Karamaneh had been sent to recapture with the aid—”

      I stopped.

      “Go on,” said Nayland Smith, turning the ray to the left, “what did she have in the basket?”

      “Valerian,” I replied mechanically.

      The ray rested upon the lithe creature that I had shot down.

      It was a black cat!

      “A cat will go through fire and water for valerian,” said Smith; “but I got first innings this morning with fish and milk! I had recognized the imprints under the trees for those of a cat, and I knew, that if a cat had been released here it would still be hiding in the neighborhood, probably in the bushes. I finally located a cat, sure enough, and came for bait! I laid my trap, for the animal was too frightened to be approachable, and then shot it; I had to. That yellow fiend used the light as a decoy. The branch which killed him jutted out over the path at a spot where an opening in the foliage above allowed some moon rays to penetrate. Directly the victim stood beneath, the Chinaman uttered his bird cry; the one below looked up, and the cat, previously held silent and helpless in the leather sack, was dropped accurately upon his head!”

      “But”—I was growing confused.

      Smith stooped lower.

      “The cat’s claws are sheathed now,” he said; “but if you could examine them you would find that they are coated with a shining black substance. Only Fu-Manchu knows what that substance is, Petrie, but you and I know what it can do!”