Removing his hat, Gray peered over the sand vigilantly. He found that he had come almost in the line he had planned. A hundred yards away two figures were seated on a rise. They wore the yellow robes he had first noticed. As he watched, one rose and walked away leisurely toward the ruins. The other remained seated, head bent on his clasped arms which rested on his knees. There was something resigned, almost hopeless, in the man's attitude. Gray waited until the first priest had had time to walk some distance. Then he wriggled forward alertly. He had no means of knowing that others were not on the further side of the ridge where the sentry sat. But he heard no further voices, and he had ascertained carefully before he set out that these two were isolated. Reasonably certain of his prey, Gray pulled himself from stone to stone, from depression to depression. Once the man looked up,--perhaps at a slight sound. Then his head fell on his arms again. Gray rose to his feet and leaped toward the ridge silently. Eyes bent on the still figure of the priest, he gained the foot of the dune. The man stiffened and raised his head, as if he had sensed danger. Gray was beneath him by now, and stretched out a powerful arm. His hand closed on a sandaled foot and he pulled the priest down from his perch. Gray's other hand clamped on the man's mouth, preventing outcry. They were sheltered from view from Sungan by the ridge, and the American believed no one would notice the disappearance of the priest. "If you cry out, you will die," he said in Chinese, kneeling over the other. Cautiously he removed his hand from the priest's mouth. "Tell me--" he began. Then--"It's a white man!" He peered at the dark, sunburned face, and the newly shaven skull. "Delabar," he said slowly. "Professor Arminius Delabar, minus a beard. No mistaking your eyes, Professor. Now what, by all that's unholy, are you doing here in this monkey rig?" CHAPTER XVII THE YELLOW ROBE The man on the sand was silent, staring up at Gray in blank amazement. It was Delabar, thinner and more careworn than before. Shaven, all the lines of his face stood out, giving him the appearance of a skull over which yellow skin was stretched taut--a skull set with two smoldering, haggard eyes. "Speak up, man," growled Gray. "And remember what I said about giving the alarm. I don't know if this costume is a masquerade or not, but--I can't afford to take chances this time." Delabar did not meet his gaze. He lay back on the sand, fingers plucking at his thin lips. "I can't speak," he responded hoarsely. "You can. And you will. You'll tell me what I want to know--this time. You lied to me before. Now you'll deal a straight hand. This is not an idle threat. I must have information." Delabar glanced at him fleetingly. Then looked around. No one was in sight, as they lay in a pocket in the sand. "What do you want to know?"