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, but being in disuse, gave in slowly, with a creak of iron hinges. Delabar checked him. "You know nothing of Chinese customs," he hissed warningly. "It is forbidden for any one to enter. The penalty----" "Beheading, I suppose," broke in Gray impatiently. "Come along, Delabar. This is a special occasion, and, by Jove--you're a distinguished scholar." He drew the other inside with him. They stood in a black passage filled with an odor of combined must and incense. Gray took his pocket flashlight from his coat and flickered its beam in front of them. He could feel Delabar shivering. Wondering at the state of the scientist's nerves, he made out an opening before them in which steps appeared. They seemed to be in a deserted part of the temple. Gray wanted very much to see what was going on--and what was at the head of the stairs. He ascended as quietly as possible, followed by the Syrian who was muttering to himself. CHAPTER VII THE DOOR IS GUARDED A subdued glow appeared above Gray's head, as the narrow stairs twisted. The glow grew stronger, and he caught the buzz of voices. Cautiously he climbed to the head of the steps and peered into the chamber from which came the light. He saw a peculiar room. It was empty of all furniture except a teakwood chair. The light came through a large aperture in the floor. An ebony railing, gilded and inlaid, ran around this square of light. The voices grew louder. It was clear to Gray that they were in some kind of gallery above the room where the assembly was--for the voices seemed to be rising through the floor. He walked to the chair--and stopped abruptly. The opening in the floor was directly above the temple proper. Gray and Delabar could see the shrine, with the usual bronze figure of the almond-eyed god, the burning tapers and the incense bowls. On the floor by the shrine the gathering of priests squatted. They were facing, not the image of Buddha, but a chair which stood on a daïs at one side. On this chair an imposing mandarin was seated with the red button and silk robe of officialdom. "Wu Fang Chien!" whispered Delabar. Gray nodded. It was their friend of Honanfu, with his thin beard, placid face and spectacles. "What are they doing?" asked Gray softly.