Still, if there were no Dr. Fu-Manchu it might be of
interest to you--and to you, Dr. Petrie--because it illustrates the
fact that, given the right sort of subject, death can be brought
about without any elaborate mechanism--such as our Chinese friends
employ."
"You interest me more and more," declared Smith, stretching himself in
the long, white cane rest-chair.
"Two men, both fairly sound, except that the first one had an
asthmatic heart, have died at The Gables without any one laying a
little finger upon them. Oh! there was no jugglery! They weren't
poisoned, or bitten by venomous insects, or suffocated, or anything
like that. They just died of fear--stark fear."
With my elbows resting upon the table cover, and my chin in my hands,
I was listening attentively, now, and Nayland Smith, a big cushion
behind his head, was watching the speaker with a keen and speculative
look in those steely eyes of his.
"You imply that Dr. Fu-Manchu has something to learn from The Gables?"
he jerked.
Weymouth nodded stolidly.
"I can't work up anything like amazement in these days," continued the
latter; "every other case seems stale and hackneyed alongside _the_
case. But I must confess that when The Gables came on the books of the
Yard the second time, I began to wonder. I thought there might be some
tangible clue, some link connecting the two victims; perhaps some
evidence of robbery or of revenge--of some sort of motive.
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