I continued to stare, uncomprehendingly.

"The Si-Fan----"

"I always knew and you always knew," interrupted Smith in his short,
decisive manner, "that Fu-Manchu, genius that he was, remained
nevertheless the servant of another or others. He was not the head of
that organization which dealt in wholesale murder, which aimed at
upsetting the balance of the world. I even knew the name of one, a
certain mandarin, and member of the Sublime Order of the White Peacock,
who was his immediate superior. I had never dared to guess at the
identity of what I may term the Head Center."

He ceased speaking, and sat gripping his pipe grimly between his teeth,
whilst I stood staring at him almost fatuously. Then--

"Evidently you have much to tell me," I said, with forced calm.

I drew up a chair beside the settee and was about to sit down.

"Suppose you bolt the door," jerked my friend.

I nodded, entirely comprehending, crossed the room and shot the little
nickel bolt into its socket.

"Now," said Smith as I took my seat, "the story is a fragmentary one
in which there are many gaps. Let us see what we know. It seems that
the despatch which led to my sudden recall (and incidentally yours)
from Egypt to London and which only reached me as I was on the point