THE DEVIL DOCTOR. Sax Rohmer

      A MIDNIGHT SUMMONS

       THE DEVIL DOCTOR

      "When did you last hear from Nayland Smith?" asked my visitor.

      I paused, my hand on the siphon, reflecting for a moment.

      "Two months ago," I said: "he's a poor correspondent and rather

      soured, I fancy."

      "What--a woman or something?"

      "Some affair of that sort. He's such a reticent beggar, I really know

      very little about it."

      I placed a whisky and soda before the Rev. J. D. Eltham, also sliding

      the tobacco jar nearer to his hand. The refined and sensitive face of

      the clergyman offered no indication to the truculent character of the

      man. His scanty fair hair, already grey over the temples, was silken

      and soft-looking: in appearance he was indeed a typical English

      churchman; but in China he had been known as "the fighting

      missionary," and had fully deserved the title. In fact, this

      peaceful-looking gentleman had directly brought about the Boxer

      Risings!

      "You know," he said in his clerical voice, but meanwhile stuffing

      tobacco into an old pipe with fierce energy, "I have often wondered,

      Petrie--I have never left off wondering--"

      "What?"

      "That accursed Chinaman!

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