The Black Mask — page 55: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

More Deadly than the Viper 53 “T think I have a solution for the mystery of the Valley of Vanishing Men. ... The Lamaserie at the head of the Pass is like some few in the North Gobi—in that a living repre- sentative of the Divine is reputed to dwell therein. It is called the Mon- astery of The Shining One. Whether this Shining One is a man or a wom- an none know—except the monks. And only a comparatively few Lamas are cloistered there—a hundred or less. They say The Shining One has never tasted food but lives by Divine substance. In many of the Lama- series of Tibet and the Gobi devilish rituals are practiced—and in some, it is rumored, human sacrifice is en- . acted—” She halted significantly and their eyes met. : “Then you think—” he began. “T don’t know. It merely occurred to me. I told Yashka, but he be- lieves it would be impossible to get into the Lamaserie—unless by force, and that can not be done, he said, until Alexis returns. But, oh, I am afraid to wait, for if—” “The Lamaserie isn’t accessible?” Tremaine questioned. “It is forbidden to all who are not of the faith. No white man has been known to enter since the death of the Russian woman.” “And you believe your brother is there—dead or alive?” Again she made that gesture of futility. “God knows! Don’t you see, the idea was something tangible, and in my grief I grasped it, hoping, pray- ing that—” She swallowed hard. “T understand,” he told her, “and I will try to think of a plan to get in the Lamaserie and—” “But I couldn’t let you take that risk—the odds would be against you.” © Tremaine smiled—an expression that lighted his frank, open face and his wide gray eyes. “There is little or no danger,” he assured her—which was not what he thought. “But you won't try it tonight?” “Darkness is better—and a minute lost might mean much.” Her hands closed over his. He felt them trembling. Her eyes, too, seemed to tremble—like deep blue stars . “No, I couldn’t allow you to do that, I couldn’t! You have only known me for a few minutes and—” “But we're both from Virginia,” he interposed, smiling yet solemn, “and you are alone—in trouble. Per-- haps your solution of the mystery is correct. And—and, you see, for four months, traveling from Urga, with forbidden Lhassa as the objective, I’ve journeyed—suffering the thirst and cold; listening to jackals and wolves by night; seeing only brown and yellow women, with never the. sight of a white woman’s face—all these hardships on a gamble, to try and penetrate the secret city. I’m a gambler through and through, and now, for the sight of your face, the face of a white woman in all this loneliness and desolation, I’m willing to play another game, to do any- thing—to repay you for the sight of you.” They had both risen, were stand- ing face to face in the candle-glow and the fragrant heat from the brazier hung like a spirit-hand between them. “T think I understand,” she re- turned slowly; “but isn’t that a one- sided bargain?” “But I want to pay that price—” He bent swiftly, caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. It was an impulsive, boyish act, and afterward he felt embarrassed. His _ face burned.