Part 14 (1/2)
”That,” said he, ”is yet to be learned.”
”But the police? They are not here?”
”No.”
One of the wonderful hands touched the smaller man upon the shoulder.
”Humadi,” said the gentle voice, ”murder has been done and the police are not here.”
The eyes of the gray-haired j.a.panese sought those of his companion; and a look as rapid as lightning pa.s.sed between them.
”The West prides itself on many things,” said Humadi, ”but in Tokio, this would not be so.”
”The officers will arrive in due course,” said Ashton-Kirk, quietly.
”But, in the meantime, if there is anything that I can do, I shall be, as I said before, much pleased.”
”Will you permit me to sit down?” asked the taller of the two. ”Thank you; and you will sit there, will you not?” As he spoke he smiled and pushed a chair toward the secret agent in such a way that it would bring his back toward the door if he sat in it. But Ashton-Kirk took it readily, without a sign that he noticed anything studied in the act.
”My name,” said the j.a.panese, as he seated himself facing Ashton-Kirk, ”is Okiu. My house is on the next street; the back you can see from the rear windows of this. On the second floor there is a room where I read and smoke and study. It is at the back, and there,” with a wave of the hand, ”I sat to-night.”
Ashton-Kirk nodded.
”It is in the blood of all lands,” proceeded Okiu, ”to love its native literature. I have many quaint books and rare ma.n.u.scripts; they are full of the, as you of the West call it, folk-lore of my people. I love it;”
the soft voice seemed to caress the subject on which it dwelt; ”I sit and smoke and dream for hours. The bright legends of the Samurai sound like music to the mind; and forgotten heroes rise before me in all their ancient power.” Here he laughed gently. ”You see,” said he, ”how filled I am with the subject, when I drift unconsciously into it at a time like this.
”To-night I was so engaged. I was deep in a book lately sent me by a friend, a reprint of a precious writing that I had never before seen. I became lost in its pages; two, three hours slipped by before I knew it.
But when the clock struck ten, I got up and turned off the light, for I live very strictly,” smilingly, ”much as one of the recluses of the waste places of our own island. The night was beautiful, however, and I stood for a little looking out. The shadows fell in long lines and finally upon the edge of one of these--the shadow cast by this very house--I saw something stir.”
The last word had hardly left his lips when there came a sharp swift rustle in the hall, an exclamation and the sound of a closing door.
”What is that?” cried Okiu, as he came to his feet.
”I'm inclined to think it's your friend,” said Ashton-Kirk, as he lounged back in his chair. ”I rather wondered why he went out into the hall.”
Humadi appeared in the doorway, his manner apologetic, but a heavy furrow between his eyes. Fuller glanced in, over his shoulder.
”The gentleman made a mistake in the room,” said he. ”If I startled him in putting him right, I'm sorry.”
”It is my place to ask pardon,” said Humadi to Ashton-Kirk. ”While you talked to my friend I stepped into the hall thinking to observe something which might be of value to the police when they came.”
”I thank you for your interest,” said the secret agent. ”It is kind of you to trouble yourself. The door across the way leads to the room where the body lies, and it is as well that it be kept closed.”
”It is for you to say,” agreed Humadi, as he sat down, wearing a somewhat baffled look.
Okiu laughed softly, and the wonderful hands gestured appreciation.
”You do not know Humadi,” he said to Ashton-Kirk; ”you do not know him, or you would not wonder at him for this. His is one of the helpful natures; always is he desirous of being of a.s.sistance. To aid others is his one ambition.”
”Ah, yes, to be sure.” And Ashton-Kirk's fine white teeth shone in a smile of understanding. ”One meets people of that sort now and then, but upon the whole such natures are rare.”