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Show THE LORD OF THUNDER' GATE lYJ h (Ik M lpk Small fff-X "TURN YOUR HEADSI" SYNOPSIS. In a low drinking place In the Japanese town of Mltaglrl, Kayama, dissolute son of the wealthy Aochl, Lord of the Thunder Gate, boasts of a grtrl he Is to purchase (with gold stolen from his father). Following Follow-ing a fight In the place, a drunken white man, speaking perfect Jap- 1 anese, Is left unconscious. Kaya-ma, Kaya-ma, dreading his father's anger, sees a way of escape. He changes clothes with the unconscious white man (to whom he bears a remarkable resemblance), leaving a note In explanation. Leaving, Kayama is robbed and slain. The white man, as Kayama. Is taken, unconscious, to the house of Aochi. His name is Robert Wells. Wells awakes bewildered, but to familiar scenes. In Aochl's house. Aochl, almost sightless from" age, does not perceive the deception. He had determined his unworthy son Bhould be put to death,- but-Wells' but-Wells' deportment leads him to think a reformation is possible. Aochl dies that day. Wells finds Kayama's note, and understanls. Priests remind him of a bargain he has made, to buy a girl. He goes to the temple. CHAr I trt III Ciontlnued. 4 "Toh !" shrieked the eldest priest, hearing the long Indrawn breaths. "Is It not as I said? Is she not a pomegranate pome-granate flower? Ael ! The eyes of polished jade! The burnished hair! Eed as a dream sunset. Soft as the mist of the moon. Examine her poise" eyes sought out the tiny bit of curved neck that promised rounded loveliness concealed below "who stys Kayama-San is not beloved of the gods?" An old priest cackled. Here was no Japanese woman. It was not necessary nec-essary to assume an attitude of politeness. po-liteness. "As white as satin," the priest called, carried away In his oratory. "Throw down your kimono, as the selyo-jln women dress . . . Ael ! she docs not understand . . ." and. with his own kimono he demonstrated what was Intended. For a full minute she gaped at him. Her eyes wore full of pain, so much of anguish was in them that Wells wondered why the gods did not strike them all with a thunderbolt. His face was Impassive. His eyes narrowed with anjrer, giving him a more Japanese Japa-nese expression. The gir! sobbed, ttirew up her gleaming head, clutched the top of her kimono, bent her head abruptly for the weight of the cross, and drew down her kimono. The veins In Wells' forehead throbbed, stood out In beaded varicosity. vari-cosity. What be had come for was llilll Yohl" Shrieked the Eldest Priest, Hearing the Long Indrawn Breaths. "It Is Not an I Said?" plain and ordered. He stood up primly, prim-ly, gathering the hissing silk of his fobes about him. "The Lord of the Thunder Gate gpenks," he said dramatically. "This Is his maid. Here," he flung the six rolls of gold upon the temple floor, so that they cascaded In glittering whorls, "scoop up the gold. Who Is the lord of the destinies of Hits village? vil-lage? Turn your heads from the maid. It Is not sf:Hly that low eyes behold her longer. Tttur curiosity Is sated. Consider carefully In your cells that Kayama has. In his benevolence, permitted per-mitted you to bshold the splendor of his first wife. Consider nothing of her beauties. Or," he wrinkled his forehead, fore-head, trying to remember what Mlsa-ko Mlsa-ko had said, "or. little priestlings, the 4.mj majr com whan the lord of your village will descend upon the temple, as his forefathers have done." He paused, eyes intent upon the hot spots of red in the girl's cheeks. Then: "Escort the maid to my house. I will talk to the abbot. "Honorable eldest priest," Wells said bluntly, "you have tricked me." The abbot had not liked Wells' oration. ora-tion. It was Dot seemly that his priests be so addressed. He answered abruptly, abrupt-ly, shortly. "How?" "This maid Is white." "You saw her before, through the slit in the panel of her room. She is not white. - I spoke of that before. She Is Eurasian. Chinese blood flows In her veins." "If she is Eurasian, why do you fear the missionaries?" "They ask questions. There Is a story." Poor scared kid, Wells was thinking. think-ing. She would be far better off In his own household. Safe. He'd find a way to get her back where? "What Is this story, honorable abbot? ab-bot? Where did the maid come from?" Wells waited, then: "I have asked, abbot." This was a new Kayama. The priest had heard many stories: of a dissolute disso-lute rogue, at once penurious and spendthrift, a seeker for sensations. It would be well to conciliate this newer personality. The temple might need gold again. "You will remember, Kayama-San, that when your honorable father sent you abroad, to the white countries, there was much fighting. The Japanese Japa-nese troops took from the selyo-jin country much land, which they themselves them-selves had taken from China. It thus becomes yellow again. "A troop of our soldiers, led by a noble whose name is ... of no importance, im-portance, captured a Chinese family, who had succored fleeing Germans. In the family was this maid. Good. The noble had her sent to Japan, to his house. Her white skin was distasteful distaste-ful to him. He condemned himself. "Her naleress would arouse Ques tions, for this noble lived In a large town, where missionaries resided. He did not like the maid. Sell her? None fouid her pleasing. "Then, this maid wrs educated, by her Chinese father, In a selyo-jin mission, mis-sion, .after the habits of white women. Some missionary might know her. Thus the noble feared. Feared Investigations, Inves-tigations, and official frownings upon the affair. "He owed this temple gold. We agreed to take the maid ns payment. We did so. We would have sold her to the highest bidder, awaiting an opportunity. op-portunity. It came. You have her. It Is all very simple." "She is very beautiful," Wells said. "It is good that she has the saving Chinese blood that she may be a maid in your house," the priest agreed. "It saves her. that is certain," Wells agreed, with different meaning, as he stepped out info the temple yard. The peace of his room was grateful to him. He threw back the screens and the scented air from the garden flowed In. Back In the house he could hear whisperings and gigglings. A word drifted to him. Laughter. The servants serv-ants were arraying the Eurasian In her finery. Her hair had been adjusted adjust-ed to serve as a nimbus for the fairness fair-ness and sweetness of her face, the whole held In place with curious ornamental orna-mental combs, and shot through with long fine pins of gold and tortoise shell with cunningly carved heads studded with dull jewels. "We must hurry," the old servant directed. "The lord will he Impatient, lie will walk from garden to house, from house to garden, now here, now there. He can hardly await her coming." com-ing." Wells, truly, found the waiting unbearable. un-bearable. Unseen, as he had been shuffling hack and forth over the Pat stones that marked the paths, the long shadows slowly blended Into one soft darkness. Within the house lanterns lan-terns were lighted, and little tables worn nrpnsirpd for the mnrri:iirp fenst The servaut found him In the garden. gar-den. "She will not come, Kayama-San. And we cannot talk to her." 'I will go. It is not according to custom, but I will go. I understand some words of the sciyo-jin language, as you know." He strode down the long corridor, head erect, and entered .'he single open room. Arrayed In her finery, burnished hnlr thrust through and through with Jeweled pins, the girl sat on a silken cushion, alone. Of what use to resist? If only she could speak to this demon . . . explain . . . the first tear, forerunner fore-runner of more to follow, splashed on the matting, and so Wells found her. His eyes ached. Tired! The day was long, and he approached the climax cli-max to strange events. He'd explain, quickly, that she was safe with him; safe from him. That he would assist ( her e return b &er people In China. fie knelt nefore her. iT be wn only white. He was lonely. Some one to talk to some one of his own kind. Some one to make him forget the bitterness bit-terness of the past, that welled up iu him. That white, friendly fingers mljht touch the head which ached so. And he had a yellow woman! "I have been In foreign countries," Wells said slowly, and unheeding her look of surprise at his English words, went on: "I am told you understand English. I, also." He pronounced with Infinite care, each letter "1" like "r." The girl gasped, tried to speak; collected col-lected herself. Wells, waiting, heard the women about the cooking-fires: a mumble of voices, then the old serving woman's shrill, "He has gone to heri Yoh ! Were I but young again!" Wells would have continued, to reassure re-assure her, but the girl looked at him with hope pregnant In her eyes, and words flowed from her In a frightened, metallic stream. "Please please," she whispered,, "don't . . . touch me. . . please . . . can't you see . . 7 don't you understand . . . you wouldn't want me ... I am ail white ... all white . , . you wouldn't want me . . ." CHAPTER IV It now becomes needful to go back some twenty years before the God of Chance ordered the course of Robert Wells to fall into strange ways. There must be foundation : it was laid In the home of Doctor Wells, missionary. In the little village of Takusaki, many leagues from MItaglrl. Here, and then, Bobbie-San Wells, despite the constant reminders of Mi-sako. Mi-sako. his nurse, preferred making ths flifii "You Wouldn't- Want me. . . . I'm All White Ail White. . . . You Wouldn't Want Me " temple court his playground rather than the Inclosed family garden. This was natural. The garden had been uprooted of Its single wild-peach tree, whose blossoms, in the early spring, gave off an odor thin as that which clings to the silk of a forgotten robe; Doctor Wells' mind was firmly set upon a "space to remind him of the austere and godly home which he had left behind" and the peach tree was ultra-Oriental. Thus, in season, snapdragon snap-dragon and canterbury bell would burst from the rain-soft ground In all promise of erect stern splendor in the summer solstice: a promise never fulfilled, ful-filled, for the long spikes gave birth to nothing save a trickle of puny flower and early found disgrace upon the baked ground. Small wonder that the child played between the long walled courtyard of the Shinto temple where the grass was tall; where trees on either side Interlocked Inter-locked their moss-grown arms above liini ; beshadowlng the way; where the birds sang and butterflies sought out the dancing, slanting sunlight. Misako had more than love for the boy: added to the strong affection was an Imperious sense of the importance of Mohble-San's missionary father. Was he not an honored servant of Him-that-loves-llttle-children, for love of whom Misako had fled her position In the household of the Lord of the Thunder Gate, her people nnd town and province? True, Misako did not understand many things about Him: It was said (and Doctor Wells did not deny) that He was the son of a cbt-penter. cbt-penter. How, then, could n god . . hut Misako, simple In fall?!, believed because she believed. It It were wrong to bow before the flowering peach 1b the garden (before an ax found the trunk) when every one knows that the blossoms are the visible sign sent by the Six Goddesses to tell that they assure good luck for the coming year, why did Doctor . Wells worship the pine tree (lacking fir or spruce) whicl each winter season he set In the mall, room and adorned with ornament? which must, Misako figured, be prayers pray-ers offered the Carpenter's Son? She did not understand. It was all very strange. Can you guess how It is that Kayama, the impostor, ! able to carry out his role so success- i j fully? I -i (TO BE CONTINUED.) |