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Show The Lord of Thunder Gate By SIDNEY KERSCHEL SMALL (Copyright by The Bobbs-MerriU Co "A SPOILT CHILD" SYNOPSIS. In a low drinking place In the Japanese town of Mltafflrl, Kayama, dissolute son of the wealthy Aochl. Lord of the Thunder Gate, boasts of a plrl he Is to purchase (with gold stolen from his father). Following Follow-ing a fight In the place, a drunken white man. speaking perfect Japanese, Jap-anese, Is left unconscious. Kaya-ma. Kaya-ma. dreading his father's anprer, sees a way of escape. He changes clothes with the unconscious white man to whom he bears a remarkable resemblance). CHAPTER I Continued. 2 Kayama moistened dirt from the floor, difficult because of Ills dry, nervous nerv-ous mouth cavern. He noted with satisfaction sat-isfaction that the yellow mud. ground Into the matting, was the color of his own skin. This he spread upon the chest and entire body of the other, and saw that the stain so improvised matched faultlessly with the 'tan of the man's face and hands. He slipped off the bandage from his arm, and the patch from his eye, ad-Justing ad-Justing thera In proper place on his double. Even without the change in attire Which would come, he saw him-telf, him-telf, as In a mirror of polished steel. There was Kayama ! There, upon the floor! : The servants from the house of the Thunta; Gate, from Aoclii-Sun his fa-' fa-' ther, would, sooner or later, come to the Inn of the Pale Pearl for Kayama. They would take this impostor, who would be in no condition to be questioned ques-tioned for hours, doubtless. The white man would be permitted to sleep until morning. By morning he, Kayama, would be far away, with the girl and the money. ... It was well planned ! By morning . . . would that be enough? The arm of Aochi-San Aochi-San was long, as the sword of the household was sharp. Fool that he had been, to think that he could slip from the Tillage, unseen, unfollowed. The bag of gold it would not be forgiven, save time intervene, and Aochl-San feel the need of his son to step Into his place and worship him when he departed. And the wife of that accursed rice-coolle. rice-coolle. Why had not he, Kayama, thrown the fellow into a ditch? That his father would have condoned, for the woman was fair, but to have run, cravenlike . . . there must be more time. The thing must be made perfect. per-fect. Would not this hungry, thirsty beggar beg-gar welcome the chance to rest in com-. com-. . fort In the place of Kayama-San until he, the true Kayama, returned to beg for pardon, when the matter was forgotten? for-gotten? Or until the father died which was not far away, for he was an ancient man, and his very sight was fciling? But how? Impatient, he shook the other. "WV.?a. Lord of the Thunder Gate I" he whispered as loudly as he dared in the w-hite maD's ear. "Wake, son of a wealthy and honorable father." This he had said (so he thought) foolishly. "Cornel Up, white fool. Up, drunkard." drunk-ard." It was of no avail. Returning , to his former pleasant sarcasm, he added, "Arise, O Lord Kayama. Kayama Ka-yama !" The white man moaned In his unconsciousness. un-consciousness. "Leave me sleep, Misako, Mi-sako, little nurse," he muttered. "Leave me sleep. Do not call me that name. The father does not like it." The voice was so low that even Ka-yumn's Ka-yumn's quickening ears could not eatcli the words. He shook the white again with no result. Giggling, he took from the other a few miserable sen-pieces: he wished that he might remain to see how the reckoning was met. Next he undressed quickly, and placed upon himself the ragged gnr mer.ts he had taken from the white man In the watch-pocket of the trousers, which he had not found in his search for money, he discovered n crumpled, many-folded envelope. Spelling carefully and slowly, he decided de-cided that this man was a Robert Wells (for so the envelope was addressed), ad-dressed), but as there was neither money nor letter within he simply tossed It away. Instantly, with a curse for his carelessness, he retrieved the envelope. Tearing off the face, ivhich fcort the writing, and thrusting it Into his pocket, he unwrinkled the remainder remain-der of the paper. The man spoke excellent Japanese. It was, therefore, extemely probable that he could read it also. Quickly, using a bit of charcoal from the brn-tler brn-tler as a crayon, he covered the envelope en-velope with characters. Here was a chance to eat much excellent ex-cellent food, and to rest until the strength was renewed In him, he wrote. In return, he must uct as the on of Aochl-San, Lord of the Thunder Thun-der Gate. His name was Kayama. He looked like Kayama. He must be Kayama. Ka-yama. There would be much money In It. Kayama snickered as he wrote that His body was stained. But he must stain It freshly (being careful where the stain came from, so none might suspect), or, better, refrain from visiting the family pool. He, the true Kayama, wolld return In the proper time. It was n wonderful opportunity. Grasp it. Food. Wine. A silent mouth. Finished with his writing, Kayama tucked the bit of paper well inside the whits man's kimono. Here it would be oafe. If the white man would and, ao great was the resemblance, the wct flxtaa. the keen eyes, the straight nose, the curving eyebrows, the damaged dam-aged arm and eye, the scar, that Kayama Ka-yama was certain It could be done act so, the days, or week, that would be given him would take Kayama and his new maid out of reach of Aochi, his honorable father. If the white were .discovered for what he was he, Kayama, was no worse off. As to what happened to this Wells does the pine tree ask the pardon of the worm who crawls about its roots? Kayama surveyed the form of Wells on the matting. He took a last look and, fastening the cuff-links, stole hurriedly hur-riedly out of the room and down the crooked corridor, headed for the door at the end. It seemed that the white man had departed, while the Japanese sprawled upon the floor. Thus Itoia thought when he shuf-flled shuf-flled in, minutes later. "So," he intoned, Vven the seiyo-Jin seiyo-Jin has robbed and battered this spawn here," and he shook the body again and again, finally slapping the face briskly. Wells' eyes flickered open ; shut, dizzy with pain. One hand strayed to the new torment on his chest. "Come," ordered the Innkeeper. "It is useless. A coolie sent by your honorable hon-orable father is waiting to take you home. Here," he bent his squat form and hoisted Wells to his feet, "I will help you." Wells swayed drunkenly about .tie slippery floor of the corridor, supported support-ed by the host. "Brandy," he whispered, whis-pered, when they were back in the stifling tavern room. "First," Itoia answered shortly, "there is a matter of three yen and ten sen. Let me have the money." Wells did not remember three yens' worth of liquor. But so his aching head told him he did not remember anything. A searching hand failed to find the few silver and copper pieces that he . . . thought he had in his trousers pocket . . . and . . . where were his trousers, anyhow? . . . heat overcame him and he swayed. "Gone, honorable keeper of the Inn," he said. "But I will give you . . . gold. . . ." He fumbled at his sleeve for a cuff-link. The wrist-long shirt was gone. "Gold 1" Itoia sneered. "You boasted that the gold was well hid. Toh ! Make me no promises, Kayama." The innkeeper inn-keeper threw up his hands in a great PI1 3tpi "First," Itoia Answered Shortly, "There Is a Matter of Throe Yen and Ten Sen. Let Us Have the Money.". flourish, making certain that all in the room saw and listened. "Kayama-San," lie went on politely, "for the honor of your house, which breeds the big, powerful pow-erful men of the Thunder Gate, like your father and father's father, I should respect you. But for you, who bargain and do not pay " he spat In Wells' face. "Is it permitted," the servant who had come for Kayania moved closer to the host, "is it permitted for the father fa-ther of Kayama-San to pay the bill? I will return with the money. I will ask the lord for It. One so low as I Is not Intrusted with silver." "It will do." The host turned away. Verily, he considered, times had changed that he, Itoia. should reprimand repri-mand a son of snraurnl. The coolie look Wells' arm. Wells shook him off unsteadily and faced the host. Ills head was no clearer. Something was happening. Just what or why he did not know. Well, let it happen. Anything was brtter than what he'd been through. His chesi ached. His eyebrows ached witn quick, torturing pain. One thing only was clear and recent enough to be Impressed: Im-pressed: he bowed to the host. "The honorable host has seen fit to degrade his superiors. This Is cause for apology." Wells' words caue slowly and distinctly. The Innkeeper did not turn. Wells grasped the neckband of Itoia's kimono, ki-mono, turned him. and slapped the evil face resoundingly. A glimpse of his reflection In a puddle pud-dle of slopped-over liquor caught Wells' eye. He gasped. There swam before him, all centered in the pool of liquid, his own birth In Japan, his years In the States, his own people there . D's return to Japan and his condemnation, unheard . . . the sleepless nights he had wandered. The change in his purse and his clothing and no" he vat a Japanese 1 I The image eould.il tie doubted, lie had descended . . . and there bad been a girl who loved him ... no, she didn't. Couldn't, or she would never have rast him off to become what lie was. And he was tired . . . hungry . . . without understanding of all this The stench of food and the heat of the pack overwhelmed him : he swayed . . . the lamp went round and round, brightened whltely, to fall suddenly into blackness with a spatter of stars. Stolidly and without comment the servant lifted Wells and bore him off. "The drink brought him bravery." a bandit condoled Itoia. "But think, Itoia, that one will wait for days before be-fore he buys his maiden !" Neither Itoia nor the bandit knew how endless that wait would be. A moment later the second outlaw shuffled shuf-fled into the room and keuneled in a corner. His fellow joined him. A bit of gold, round, shiny, passed between them. "He came out of the rear door," the outlaw whispered. "As w-e said he would. Him I would have followed. For the gold he spoke of. The bag of gold. Toh I It was the white one. Lucky I saw the ornaments when he first came. Otherwise I would have let him go. The night is not lost. There is one for you and one for me." "Where did you strike?" "Under the ribs. I let him have the knife ping! I carried him a good hundred paces before I threw the body into the river." He licked his lips. "I'm dry from it, Itoia !" CHAPTER II The servant carried Wells slowly up the long path, at the very head of which a spring bursts from a lichen-covered lichen-covered rock : the spring that keeps green the garden of the Thunder Gate. A sliding door opened to a dim room. At the farther end of this chamber was a platform approached by a single step ; a dark curtain veiled the alcove behind. An old man knelt upon a richly ornamented zabuton placed In the center of the room. As the panel moved back, In ghostly silence, the ancient an-cient arose and drew back with theatrical the-atrical gesture the curtain. There glowered upon Wells' unseeing unsee-ing eyes an apparition, a monstrosity. A huge face, mounted upon a dragonlike dragon-like body, winged. A face the color of polished copper, dull carmine ; menacing, men-acing, frightful. Not the tiger frown, nor the violence of the terrific mouth, nor the ghastly fury of the head as a whole, nor the weird eyes aroused wens, itatner or so it 6oemea to him, after MIsako, his old nurse, who, he dimly remembered, came freai the Tillage of Mltaglri ; Misako was telling tell-ing him a story, of Kayama and the household of the Thunder Gate of which she had been a part, and the terrible god who ruled It, and what happened to naughty boys when they saw the god. The lightning which the god bore in its right paw seemed to send a hot shock to his brain. While Misako was still telling the story, his eyes opened. Only the half-remembered story of Misako held Wells to reality. He bent before the god, saying "Harai-tamal" and clapping his hands in Shinto prayer. Then, with the nurse's instructions in-structions as to reverence for the aged, he bowed to the old one with the tired eyes. Aochl gestured to a cushion upon the matting. From where Wells sat, stupidly, ho saw the god staring at him. The old man clapped his hands, a maidservant as ancient as himself entered with tea ; placed cups and pot upon a low black table and, kneeling, rinsed two cups. " 'Kawai ko wa tabl wo sase' the old proTerb Is incorrect," Aochi was thinking. "A spoilt child should be made to travel, so It goes . . . aei I this son of mine has but added to his many Japanese vices. . . ." He said nothing audibly, waiting until the tea ceremony was completed. The room was silent. A late wind from the sea sighed against the stunted stunt-ed pines: a faint stream of perfume rose from the poured tea. Every suggestion sug-gestion Was hypnotic of sleep. Between Be-tween the moment of raising his cup and the contact with lips Wells was actually plunged for an Instant Ir sleep, to become conscious with a start. Into the eyes of the old man had cre:it a look of uncertainty: this was Wells' last coherent thought, for the servant placed a cushion beneath his drooping head, and then came the blessed rhythmic coolness from hei fan. He awoke to find the sun shining with assurance of another heated day. The woman, with rigid though gentle face, still fanned him, as she had throughout the night. She hastened to Ving him steaming tea and a brightly blue kimono. As he slipped off the kimono which he had worn when he entered the house, a hit of paper fell to the floor. The servant handed It to him, and he tucked It up the flowing sleeve. Furtively he touched the silken kimono In which he was clad. This was better than . . . what had been. Clapped hands brought the servant serv-ant to her feet. "It is thy father," she whispered "Let me assist thy honorable foot steps." Kayama, the impostor, has now to face an outraged father, with power of life and death. How does he escape punish- ' ment? ' I I (TO BE CONTINUED.) |