“The Director of the Universe,” he continued, softly, “has relented toward me. To-night, you die! To-night, the arch-enemy of our caste shall be no more. This is my offering—the price of redemption...”
My mind was working again, and actively. I managed to grasp the stupendous truth—and the stupendous possibility.
Dr. Fu-Manchu was in the act of clapping his hands, when I spoke.
“Stop!” I cried.
He paused, and the weird film, which sometimes became visible in his eyes, now obscured their greenness, and lent him the appearance of a blind man.
“Dr. Petrie,” he said, softly, “I shall always listen to you with respect.”
“I have an offer to make,” I continued, seeking to steady my voice. “Give us our freedom, and I will restore your shattered honor—I will restore the sacred peacock!”
Dr. Fu-Manchu bent forward until his face was so close to mine that I could see the innumerable lines which, an intricate network, covered his yellow skin.
“Speak!” he hissed. “You lift up my heart from a dark pit!”
“I can restore your white peacock,” I said; “I and I alone, know where it is!”—and I strove not to shrink from the face so close to mine.