Part 52 (1/2)

”But I did not kill him,” protested Asako.

”Who killed him then? You must know that,” said the inspector triumphantly.

”It was Tanaka,” said Asako.

”Who is this Tanaka?” the inspector asked the policeman.

”I do not know; perhaps it is lies,” he answered sulkily.

”But it is not lies,” expostulated Asako, ”he ran away through the window. You can see his footmarks in the snow.”

”Did you see the marks?” the policeman was asked.

”No; perhaps there were no marks.”

”Did you look?”

”I did not look actually, but--”

”You're a fool!” said the inspector.

The weary questioning continued for quite two hours, until Asako had told her story of the murder at least three times. The unfamiliar language confused her, and the reiterated refrain:

”You, now confess; you killed the man!”

Asako was chilled to the bone. Her head was aching; her eyes were aching; her legs were aching with the ordeal of standing. She felt that they must soon give way altogether.

At last, the inspector closed his _questionnaire_.

”_Sa_!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, ”it is past midnight. Even I must sleep sometimes. Take her away to the court, and lock her in the 'sty,'

To-morrow the procurator will examine at nine o'clock. She is pretending to be silly and not understanding; so she is probably guilty.”

Again the handcuffs and the degrading rope were fastened upon her. She felt that she had already been condemned.

”May I send word to my friends?” she asked. Surely even the Fujinami would not abandon her to her fate.

”No. The procurator's examination has not yet taken place. After that, sometimes permission can be granted. That is the law.”

She was left waiting in a stone-flagged guard-room, where eight or nine policemen stared at her impertinently.

”A pretty face, eh?” they said, ”it looks like a _geisha_! Who is taking her to the court? It is Is.h.i.+bas.h.i.+. Oh, so! He is always the lucky chap!”

A rough fellow thrust his hand up her kimono sleeve, and caught hold of her bare arm near the shoulder.

”Here, Is.h.i.+bas.h.i.+,” he cried; ”you have caught a fine bird this time.”

The policeman Is.h.i.+bas.h.i.+ picked up the loose end of the rope, and drove Asako before him into a closed van, which was soon rumbling along the deserted streets.

She was made to alight at a tall stone building, where they pa.s.sed down several echoing corridors, until, at the end of a little pa.s.sage a warder pushed open a door. This was the ”sty,” where prisoners are kept pending examination in the procurator's court. The floor and walls were of stone. It was bitterly cold. There was no window, no light, no firebox, and no chair. Alone, in the petrifying darkness, her teeth chattering, her limbs trembling, poor Asako huddled her misery into a corner of the dirty cell, to await the further tender mercies of the j.a.panese criminal code. She could hear the scuttering of rats. Had she been ten times guilty, she felt that she could not have suffered more!