Mirai Khan
unusually long legs. Gray stared after him with a smile. Then he turned back toward the inn.
That night there was a feast in Liangchowfu. The sound of the temple drums reached to the inn. Lanterns appeared on the house fronts across the street. Throngs of priests passed by in ceremonialprocession, bearing lights. In the inn courtyard a group of musicians took their stand, producing a hideous mockery of a tune on cymbals and one-stringed fiddles. But the main room of the inn, where the eating tables were set with bowls and chop-sticks, was deserted except for a wandering rooster.
"I'm going out to see the show," asserted Gray, who was weary of inaction.
"What!" The Syrian stared at him, fingering his beard restlessly. "With Wu Fang Chien in the town!"
"Certainly. There's nothing to be done here. I may be able to pick up information which will be useful—if we are in danger."
Delabar tossed his cigarette away and shrugged his shoulders.
"We are marked men, my young friend. I saw this afternoon that a guard has been posted at the town gates. Those musicians yonder are spies. The master of the inn is in the stable, with our men."
"Then we'll shake our escort for a while."
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