Mirai Khan
Delabar. "I heard the temple messengers crying the summons in the street this afternoon."
Gray made his way close to the building. It was a lofty structure of carved wood. The windows were small and high overhead. Gray scanned them speculatively.
"We weren't invited to the reunion, Professor," he meditated, "but I'd give something for a look inside. Judging by what you've told me, these Buddhist fellows are our particular enemies. And it's rather a coincidence they held a lodge meeting to-night."
He felt along the wall for a space. They were sheltered from view from the street by the garden trees.
"Hullo," he whispered, "here's luck. A door. Looks like a stage entrance, with some kind of carving over it."
Delabar pushed forward and peered at the inscription. The reflected light of the illumination in the street enabled him to see fairly well.
"This is the gate of ceremony of the temple," he observed. "It is one of the doors built for a special occasion—only to be used by a scholar of the town who has won the highest honors of the Hanlin academy, or by the emperor himself—when there was one."
Gray pushed at the door. It was not fastened,
63
