“What do you mean by that?” he demanded.
For my own part I understood well enough, remembering how the brilliant Chinese doctor once had performed such an operation as this upon poor Inspector Weymouth; how, by means of an injection of some serum prepared (as Karamaneh afterwards told us) from the venom of a swamp adder or similar reptile, he had induced amnesia, or complete loss of memory. I felt every drop of blood recede from my cheeks.
“Smith!” I began...
“Let him speak for himself,” interrupted my friend sharply.
“They tried to take us both,” continued Aziz still speaking in that soft, melodious manner, but with deep seriousness. “I escaped, I, who am swift of foot, hoping to bring help.”—He shook his head sadly—“But, except the All Powerful, who is so powerful as the Hakim Fu-Manchu? I hid, my gentlemen, and watched and waited, one—two—three weeks. At last I saw her again, my sister, Karamaneh; but ah! she did not know me, did not know me, Aziz her brother! She was in an arabeeyeh, and passed me quickly along the Sharia en-Nahhasin. I ran, and ran, and ran, crying her name, but although she looked back, she did not know me—she did not know me! I felt that I was dying, and presently I fell—upon the steps of the Mosque of Abu.”
He dropped the expressive hands wearily to his sides and sank his chin upon his breast.
“And then?” I said, huskily—for my heart was fluttering like a captive bird.
“Alas! from that day to this I see her no more, my gentlemen. I travel, not only in Egypt, but near and far, and still I see her no more until in Rangoon I hear that which brings me to England again”—he extended his palms naively—“and here I am—Smith Pasha.”
Smith sprang upright again and turned to me.
“Either I am growing over-credulous,” he said, “or Aziz speaks the truth. But”—he held up his hand—“you can tell me all that at some other time, Petrie! We must take no chances. Sergeant Carter is downstairs with the cab; you might ask him to step up. He and Aziz can remain here until our return.”