THE RETURN OF DR. FU-MANCHU

By Sax Rohmer

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.   A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS

CHAPTER II.   ELTHAM VANISHES

CHAPTER III.   THE WIRE JACKET

CHAPTER IV.   THE CRY OF A NIGHTHAWK

CHAPTER V.   THE NET

CHAPTER VI.   UNDER THE ELMS

CHAPTER VII.   ENTER MR. ABEL SLATTIN

CHAPTER VIII.   DR. FU-MANCHU STRIKES

CHAPTER IX.   THE CLIMBER

CHAPTER X.   THE CLIMBER RETURNS

CHAPTER XI.   THE WHITE PEACOCK

CHAPTER XII.   DARK EYES LOOKED INTO MINE

CHAPTER XIII.   THE SACRED ORDER

CHAPTER XIV.   THE COUGHING HORROR

CHAPTER XV.   BEWITCHMENT

CHAPTER XVI.   THE QUESTING HANDS

CHAPTER XVII.   ONE DAY IN RANGOON

CHAPTER XVIII.   THE SILVER BUDDHA

CHAPTER XIX.   DR. FU-MANCHU'S LABORATORY

CHAPTER XX.   THE CROSS BAR

CHAPTER XXI.   CRAGMIRE TOWER

CHAPTER XXII.   THE MULATTO

CHAPTER XXIII.   A CRY ON THE MOOR

CHAPTER XXIV.   STORY OF THE GABLES

CHAPTER XXV.   THE BELLS

CHAPTER XXVI.   THE FIERY HAND

CHAPTER XXVII.   THE NIGHT OF THE RAID

CHAPTER XXVIII.     THE SAMURAI'S SWORD

CHAPTER XXIX.   THE SIX GATES

CHAPTER XXX.   THE CALL OF THE EAST

CHAPTER XXXI.   "MY SHADOW LIES UPON YOU"

CHAPTER XXXII.   THE TRAGEDY

CHAPTER XXXIII.   THE MUMMY

CHAPTER I. A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS

"When did you last hear from Nayland Smith?" asked my visitor.

I paused, my hand on the syphon, reflecting for a moment.

"Two months ago," I said; "he's a poor correspondent and rather soured, I fancy."

"What—a woman or something?"

"Some affair of that sort. He's such a reticent beggar, I really know very little about it."

I placed a whisky and soda before the Rev. J. D. Eltham, also sliding the tobacco jar nearer to his hand. The refined and sensitive face of the clergy-man offered no indication of the truculent character of the man. His scanty fair hair, already gray over the temples, was silken and soft-looking; in appearance he was indeed a typical English churchman; but in China he had been known as "the fighting missionary," and had fully deserved the title. In fact, this peaceful-looking gentleman had directly brought about the Boxer Risings!

"You know," he said, in his clerical voice, but meanwhile stuffing tobacco into an old pipe with fierce energy, "I have often wondered, Petrie—I have never left off wondering—"

"What?"

"That accursed Chinaman! Since the cellar place beneath the site of the burnt-out cottage in Dulwich Village—I have wondered more than ever."

He lighted his pipe and walked to