close-shaven skull, and long magnetic eyes of the true cat green.
Invest him with all the cruel cunning of an entire Eastern race
accumulated in one giant intellect, with all the resources of science,
past and present, and you have a mental picture of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the
'Yellow Peril' incarnate in one man."

This visit of Eltham's no doubt was responsible for my mood; for this
singular clergyman had played his part in the drama of two years ago.

"I should like to see Smith again," he said suddenly; "it seems a pity
that a man like that should be buried in Burma. Burma makes a mess of
the best of men, Doctor. You said he was not married?"

"No," I replied shortly, "and is never likely to be, now."

"Ah, you hinted at something of the kind."

"I know very little of it. Nayland Smith is not the kind of man to
talk much."

"Quite so--quite so! And, you know, Doctor, neither am I; but"--he was
growing painfully embarrassed--"it may be your due--I--er--I have a
correspondent, in the interior of China--"

"Well?" I said, watching him in sudden eagerness.

"Well, I would not desire to raise--vain hopes--nor to occasion, shall
I say, empty fears; but--er . . . no, Doctor!" He flushed like a
girl--"It was wrong of me to open this conversation. Perhaps, when I
know more--will you forget my words, for the time?"