The Gray Dragon of Len Yang?

From the tail of his eye he detected a man with folded arms backed
against the door. At either side of the green throne stood Mongolian
guards, armed with rifles. They struck the only dissonant note of the
picture, for they were garbed in desert brown.

Evidently all ways of escape were closed. For two years he had
contrived to elude the tracers, the killers, sent out by this creature,
and now he had deliberately walked upon his swords. Death? Where was
Kahn Meng?

Possessed with a feeling akin to cat-like curiosity, Peter walked
slowly to the beryl throne steps, where he paused, with his fists
gripped tightly in his pockets, his chin up, and his shoulders back.

Close scrutiny did not soften the bestial cruelty of the face of Len
Yang's ruler. It was a startling face, as gray as fresh clay, sharply
wrinkled. The nose was exceedingly long and sharp, with a crooked
joint. Dirty-yellow mandarin mustaches drooped like wet sea-weed from
the sides of a curling, sneering mouth.

And it was dominated by a pair of very small, very bright green eyes,
set deep and exceedingly close together.

But the tenor of the face was gray, the gray of living death, and from
this emblem, Peter suddenly decided, the man had been given his
descriptive name.

Long, gray talons reached out from the folds of a mandarin jacket and
toyed nervously with a strand of gray hair which jutted from the
pigtail winding over the slanting shoulder.

The green eyes blinked as they completed the survey of Peter Moore.
The curling lips were moving.

"Peter Moore!" he rasped. "The most daring foreigner who has yet
visited my city! Peter the Brazen, with a reputation of breaking the
hearts of beautiful women! You are late. I have been waiting upon
this visit for two years!"

He leaned forward, and Peter retreated a step.

"What have you done with her?" Peter snapped.

The Gray Dragon sank back with a sigh. "Ah! Would you like to gaze
upon that which can never be yours?"

"May I see her--once--before I die?"

"That is a wise statement. You are altogether wise--astonishingly so!
Wisdom is a rare gem in one so young." He chuckled in an irritating
treble. "Look about you again, youth. This is known as the room of
the green death. Few men leave the room of the green death alive. My
hounds bay when they enter.

"The young woman is here--safe. If you will answer my questions, I may
permit you to gaze