Above them the tall Master of Incense thundered:-- "O Spirits of the Hills and Brooks, the Land, the swollen seeds of the ground, and all the Veins of Earth; O Thou, young Bearer of the Axe that cleared the Hills; O Imperial Heaven, and ye, Five Dragons of the Five Regions, with all the Holy Influences who pass and instantly re-pass through unutterable space:--draw near, record our oath, accept the draught of blood." He raised at arm's length a heavy baton, which, with a flowing movement, unrolled to the floor a bright yellow scroll thickly inscribed.

From this he read, slowly, an interminable catalogue of oaths.

Heywood could catch only the scolding sing-song of the responses:-- "If any brother shall break this, let him die beneath ten thousand knives." "-- Who violates this, shall be hurled down into the great sky." "-- Let thunder from the Five Regions annihilate him." Silence followed, broken suddenly by the frenzied squawking of a fowl, as suddenly cut short.

Near the chink, Heywood heard a quick struggling and beating.

Next instant he lay flattened against the wall.
The shutter grated open, a flood of light poured out.
Within reach, in that radiance, a pair of sinewy yellow hands gripped the neck of a white cock.