The dim light it furnished disclosed a weird and silent assembly. The space was crowded with strange glimmering deities--of bronze, of silver, of priceless gold-lacquer--the dust thick on their faces, their aureoles misty with cobwebs. Some gazed with passionless serenity, or blessed with outstretched hand; some threatened with scowling faces and clenched thunderbolts: Jizo of the tender smile, in whose sleeves nestle the souls of dead children; Kwan-on, of divine compassion, with her many hands; Emma-dai-O, Judge of the Dead, menacing and terrible; strange sardonic _tengu_, half-bird, half-human. The floor was thick with them. From shelves on the walls leered swollen, frog-like horrors such as often appear on Alaskan totem-poles, triple-headed divinities of India and China, coiled cobras, idols from Ceylon, and curious Thibetan praying-wheels. A sloping stairway slanted through the gloom; beside it was an image of the red god, Aizen Bosatsu, his appalling countenance framed in lurid flames, seated on a fiery lotos. The master of this celestial and infernal pantheon closed and locked the door, and mounted the stairway to the loft--a low, rambling room of eccentric shape, under the curving gables. Here, through a long window beneath the very eaves, the light still came brightly. In the center was a board table, littered with delicate carving-tools. He kindled the charcoal in a bronze _hibachi_, and set over it a copper pot which began to emit a thick, weedy odor. From a cabinet he took phials containing various powders, and measured into the pot a portion from each. Lastly he added a quantity of gold-leaf, slowly, flake by flake. At one side a white silk cloth was draped over a pedestal; he drew this away and looked at the unfinished figure it had concealed. It was an image of Kwan-on, the All-Merciful. Through the open window the chant of the priests came clearly: "_Waku hyoryu kokai_ _Ry[=u]gyo Shokinan_ _Nembi Kwan-on riki_ _Har[=o] fun[=o]motsu._" (He who is beset with perils of dragon and great fish--who drifts on an endless sea--if he offer petition to Kwan-on, waves will not destroy him.) Thorn crossed the room and leaning his elbows on the window-ledge, looked out. Through the odor of incense the monotonous intonation of the liturgy rose with the grandeur of a Gregorian chant: "_Sh[=u]j[=o] kikon-yaku Mury[=o]ku hisshin Kwan-on myochiriki N[=o]ku sekenku._" (He who is in distress--when immeasurable suffering presses on him--Kwan-on, all-wise and all-powerful, can save him from the world's calamity.)