Part 20 (1/2)

Something in his voice made me look in the man's face. It was as expressive as biscuit dough. I acknowledged my acquaintance with Page.

The man resumed: ”Hanaford San nice gentleman. I give wonder why he stay this far-away place. I hear some time he have much sadful. Too bad.

Maybe he have the yearn for his country. If this be truthful why he not give quick return to 'Merica?”

I answered that Mr. Hanaford had lost all his money and his father and had come to j.a.pan to begin anew. His success in teaching was reason enough for his remaining.

Apparently indifferent my questioner mused as if to himself: ”Him papa have gone dead. Badful news. And moneys have got lost. Most big troublesome for young man.”

I did not think it strange this queer person knew Page. The boy had all kinds and conditions in his cla.s.ses, as Jane had in her Quarters.

Neither was it unusual for a stranger to follow me around. When I went to a new part of the city, I was accustomed to being followed as if I were a part of a circus. But my self-attached friend's interest in Page's history caused me to observe him more closely. Except that his patched clothes were cleaner and he spoke English I could discover little difference between him and Jane's other guests.

Criminal or not his carelessly put but persistent questions regarding Page, his habits, how long I had known him, how often he came to my house and many other things, so annoyed me that I arose to find Jane and suggest going home. Failing in my quest I returned to find my inquisitor gone and Zura putting on her coat and hat.

”Zura,” I said, ”who was that man who stuck to me all afternoon like furniture varnish? He made me talk whether I wanted to or not. Such questions as he asked!”

”Do you mean that clean, raggy little man who looked through you, but not at you?” she questioned. ”Star of my Sapphire, you have made a hit.

That was Kobu, the keenest detective the flag of the Rising Sun ever waved over. I thought you knew. He has been here a week trying to pry information out of Lady Jinny. You should hear their interviews. He asks the subtlest questions, and Jane Gray doesn't do a thing but let her tongue get locomotor ataxia, and Kobu can make nothing of her answers.

It's as good as vaudeville to hear them. He'd just as well leave her alone. Torture wouldn't make her tell what she knows, and she doesn't have to either! Did he ask you about Page? He did me too. What does it matter? I told him all I knew. That is most all. Why shouldn't I?

There's nothing wrong about Page. He just can't get over the loss of his father, and there is something about old money that worries him.”

She threw her arms around my waist.

”What a happy day! Isn't Jane the realest saint you ever knew? You're a saint, too, Ursula, the nice sinnery kind that I love to play with. I am tired and hungry. Come on, let's find Lady Jinny and go home. Isn't the blessedest thing in the world to have one to go to? I dare you to race me to the corner.” I was far from feeling playful, so declined.

More than ever I felt the necessity of an interview with Page. I must know the truth. He must know the happenings of the afternoon.

That evening, after dinner, while sitting with Zura in the living-room, I eagerly listened for Page's step in the hall. Soon it came, and as we arose to greet him I was made more anxious by his fever-bright eyes.

I was rea.s.sured, however, when he replied to my inquiries by saying: ”Quite all right, thank you. Head gets a bit rocky at times, but that does not matter. Awfully sorry I was unable to be among those present at Miss Jane's tea party. Tell me all about it--the guests and the costumes.”

Though he walked about the room, picking up books and small objects only to lay them quickly down, he gave the closest attention to Zura as she eagerly gave her account of the afternoon.

I was about to interrupt with a request to Page to come with me for a private conference in the dining-room, when a summons came for me to go at once to the house in the garden where Is.h.i.+ lived. The messenger thought Is.h.i.+ was very ill, or gone crazy. I found him very drunk.

Standing in the middle of the room, with rows of rare orchids ranged around the walls, he was waving a sharp-bladed weapon while executing a sword dance. In between steps he made speeches to the plants, telling them how their blessed brothers and sisters had had their heads cut off by a silly girl on whom he would have vengeance. He had sworn by his blood at the temple.

It required me a good hour to reduce him to submission and to sleep.

When I returned to the house Page Hanaford was gone. I was disappointed enough to cry. Zura said that the next morning was the time for him to go to the Government office to fill out the papers required for his position at the Normal College, and that he must make his last preparation for this. He asked her to say to me that he would accept the offer I had made to go with him as interpreter and would call for me on his way down.

”But,” I asked almost peevishly, ”what made him go so soon?”

”I am not sure. Maybe he wanted to study. Or, it may be, I made his head ache. I did talk a lot. I told him everything--about the babies in the bath and Jane's sermon and your detective.”

”Oh, Zura!” I said helplessly.

”Yes, I did. Why not?”