"Ah!" jerked Smith, glancing over his shoulder.
The ejaculation had a veiled significance; for our quest of Dr. Fu-Manchu had come to an abrupt termination by reason of the fact that all trace of that malignant genius, and of the group surrounding him, had vanished with the destruction of Cragmire Tower.
"The house is called The Gables," continued the Scotland Yard man, "and I knew I was on a wild-goose chase from the first—"
"Because I was there before, six months ago or so—just before your present return to England—and I knew what to expect."
Smith looked up with some faint dawning of interest perceptible in his manner.
"I was unaware," he said with a slight smile, "that the cleaning-up of haunted houses came within the province of New Scotland Yard. I am learning something."
"In the ordinary way," replied the big man good-humouredly, "it doesn't. But a sudden death always excites suspicion, and—"
"A sudden death?" I said, glancing up; "you didn't explain that the ghost had killed any one!"
"I'm afraid I'm a poor hand at yarn-spinning, doctor," said Weymouth, turning his blue, twinkling eyes in my direction. "Two people have died at The Gables within the last six months."