Re-enter Fu-Manchu by Sax Rohmer Read Free Book Online Page A

see him.”
    Dr. Fu Manchu continued to make notes in small, neat characters, in the margin of a bulky faded volume until a door opened and Mr. Ahmad came in. He bowed obsequiously, then stood still. Fu Manchu glanced up.
    “Yes? You wish to report something?”
    “Excellency,” Ahmad stammered, “it is that Brian Merrick claims to have seen Nayland Smith last night!”
    Dr. Fu Manchu closed the large volume and fixed a glance upon Mr. Ahmad that seemed to freeze him to the floor.
    “Tell me what he said, exactly—exactly—and also what
you
said.”
    Mr. Ahmad evidently had a phenomenal memory, for he repeated the conversation practically, word for word under the barely endurable gaze of those strange green eyes.
    Dr. Fu Manchu looked down at the emerald signet ring he wore and there was silence. The marmoset broke this silence by uttering one of his whistling cries and leaping to the top of a tall cabinet behind the Chinese doctor, where he sat chattering wickedly at Mr. Ahmad. Fu Manchu spoke.
    “Merrick is lying for some reason of his own. There has been bungling. He suspects something. He did not see Nayland Smith where he claims to have seen him. But he may have seen him elsewhere. This we must learn. Vast issues are at stake. Order Zobeida to report to me here immediately.”
    Mr. Ahmad went out, and shortly afterwards Zobeida came in. Brian would have recognized Zobeida as Zoe Montero.
    * * *
    The memory that had been dodging Brian like a will-o’-the-wisp, came out into the open that evening. He was waiting on the hotel terrace for Zoe. He stood up when he saw her coming. Dusk had fallen and she moved gracefully through shadows, into the light of the moon, and out again. Once, when she was quite near, in shadow, a stray moonbeam touched her briefly, lighting up her eyes.
    And he knew where he had seen those beautiful eyes before. She had been in the shop of old Achmed es-Salah, wearing native dress and veiling her face. She had followed him when he left.
    He was entangled in an invisible web. Every move he made was covered. Someone who had known he was going to Achmed’s shop had planted the girl there. She was infernally clever, too. That trick in the cocktail bar had been done beautifully.
    And he could no longer doubt that Lola also was in the plot.
    Zoe smiled and gave him both her hands. She looked very lovely tonight.
    “If I kept you waiting I am sorry, Brian. But an old friend of my father’s, an Englishman, heard I am in Cairo and called me. He talked for so long. I am thirsty with talking. Please get me a big, cool drink.”
    Brian clapped his hands for a waiter and gave the order. “Does this old friend of yours live here in Cairo?” he ventured cautiously.
    “Oh, no. He came only yesterday, and from my uncle in Luxor he found out I am here. He is very quick to find things out. He was for many years with the English police.”
    “Is that right? I suppose he’s here on some investigation?”’
    Zoe shook her head. A waiter brought two tall glasses.
    “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. But I know from my father that Sir Denis now belongs to the British Secret Service.”
    She took a long drink and sighed contentedly. Brian tried to tell himself that her remark hadn’t stupefied him. “What’s the rest of his name?”
    “Sir Denis Nayland Smith.”
    “Well, I’ll be damned!” Brian breathed, and met the regard of wide-open amber eyes.
    “What surprises you, Brian?”
    “Just that I happen to know him, too.”
    Zoe smiled delightedly. “That is wonderful! And you didn’t know he was here?”
    “Well”—he spoke very slowly—“maybe he doesn’t know
I’m
here.”
    He was doing some hard thinking. In that first starting moment or revelation, when he became suddenly convinced that Zoe and the girl in the bazaar were one and the same, which seemed to reveal this bewitching little tramp as an impostor, a spy set to watch him, he had decided what he would do. But this new