The Kingdom of Slender Swords
Page 33
CHAPTER XXXI
THE COMING OF AUSTEN WARE
Dusk purpled over the rice-fields as the train sped on. Still the manwho had witnessed that farewell sat crouched in his seat in the forwardcar, stirless and pallid.
From boyhood Austen Ware had trod a calculate path. Judicious,masterful, possessed, he had gone through life with none of thetemptations that had lain in wait for his younger brother Phil. Thesetraits were linked to a certain incapacity for bad luck and anunwearying tenaciousness of purpose. Seldom had any one seen his facechange color, had seldom seen his poise of glacial complacency shaken.
To-night, however, the oil lamps which glowed dully in the ceiling ofthe carriage threw their faint light on a face torn with passion.Barbara's beauty, whose perfect indifference no touch of sentimentalpassion had devitalized, had, from the first, aroused Ware's stubbornsense of conquest. He had been too wise to make missteps--had put ardorinto the background, while surrounding her with tactful and gracefulobservances which unconsciously usurped a large place in her thought. Inthe end he had broken down an instinctive disinclination and convertedit into liking.
But this was all. For the rest he had perforce been content to wait.Thus matters had stood when they parted a few months ago. He recalledthe day he had sailed for Suez. Looking back across the widening water,he had conceived then no possibility of ultimate failure. "How beautifulshe is!" he had said to himself. "She will marry me. She does not loveme, but she cares for no other man. She will marry me in Japan." Therehad been nobody else then!
As he peered out into the glooming dusk all kinds of thoughts racedthrough his mind. Who was the man? Was this the resurrection of an old"affair" that he had never guessed? No, when he left her, Barbara hadbeen fancy free! It was either a "steamer acquaintance," or one come toquick fruition on a romantic soil. He took out a cigar-case and struck amatch with shaking fingers. Had it even come to clandestine_rendezvous_? She had gone one way, the man another! A whirl of rageseized him: the slender metal snapped short off in the fierce wrench ofhis fingers. He thrust the broken case into his pocket with a mutteredcurse that sat strangely on his fastidious tongue.
Gradually, out of the wrack emerged his dominant impulse, caution. Hehad many things to learn; he must find out how the land lay. He mustmove slowly, reestablish the old, easy, informal footing. Above all hemust lay himself open to no chance of a definite refusal. A plan beganto take shape. His telegram had told her he would arrive in Tokyo nextday. Meanwhile he would find out what Phil knew.
He left the train at Yokohama under cover of the crowd. In a half-hourhe was aboard his yacht. Two hours later he sat down to order his dinneron the terrace of the hotel, cool, unruffled, immaculately groomed. Theplace was brightly barred with the light from the tall dining-roomwindows, and the small, round tables glowed with _andons_ whosecandle-light shone on men's conventional black-and-white, and women'sfluttering gowns. There was no wind--only the long, slow breath of thebay that seemed sluggish with the scents of the tropical evening. Ahundred yards from the hotel front great floating wharves had been builtout into the water. They were gaily trimmed with bunting and electriclights in geometrical designs. A series of arches flanked them, andthese were covered with twigs of ground pine. Ware had guessed thesedecorations were for the European Squadron of Dreadnaughts, of whosearrival to-day's newspapers had been full.
As he looked over the _menu_, a man sitting near-by rose and came to himwith outstretched hand. He was Commander DeKay, a naval _attache_ whomWare had known in Europe. They had met again, a few days since, atKyoto. He hospitably insisted on the other's joining his own party offive.
Ware was not gregarious, and to-night was in a sullen mood. But, withhis habitual policy, he thrust this beneath the surface and in anothermoment was bowing to the introductions: Baroness Stroloff, her sister, achic young matron whose natural habitat seemed to be Paris; theubiquitous and popular Count Voynich, and a statuesque American girl,whose name Ware recognized as that of a clever painter of Japanesechildren. He looked well in evening dress, and his dark beard, thickcurling pompadour and handsome eyes added a something of distinction toa well-set figure.
"So you have just arrived, Mr. Ware?" the Baroness said. "I hope you'renot one of those terrible two-days-in-Japan tourists who spoil all ourprices for us."
"I expect to stay a month or more," he said. "And as for prices, I shallput up as good a battle as I can."
"You know," said the artist, with an air of imparting confidentialinformation, "everybody is scheduled in Tokyo. If you belong to anEmbassy you have to pay just so much more for everything. In theEmbassies, 'number-one-man' pays more than 'number-two-man,' and so ondown. You and I are lucky, Mr. Ware. We are not on the list, and canfight it out on its merits."
"Belonging to the rankless file has its advantages in Japan, then."
"Not at official dinners, I assure you," interposed the Baroness' sisterwith a shrug. "It means the bottom of the table, and sitting next belowthe same student-interpreter nine times in the season. I have discoveredthat I rank with, but not above, the dentist."
"You tempt me to enter the service--in the lowest grade," said Ware, andthe Baroness laughed and shook her fan at him reprovingly.
The sky above their heads was pricked out with pale stars, likecat's-eye pins in a greenish-violet tapestry. Up and down the roadwaywent shimmering _rick'sha_, and Japanese couples in light _kimono_strolled along the bay's edge, under the bent pines, their low voicesmingled with the soft lapping of the tide. Now and then a bicycle wouldpass swiftly, bare sandaled feet chasing its pedals, and _kimono_sleeves flapping like great bats'-wings from its handle-bars; or aflanneled English figure would stride along, with pipe and racquet, fromlate tennis at the recreation-ground. From the corner came the cries ofromping children and the tapping staff and double flute-note of a blind_masseur_.
The talk flew briskly hither and thither, skimming the froth of thecapital's _causerie_: recent additions to the official set, the splendidnew ball-room at the German Embassy, and the increasing importance ofTokyo as a diplomatic center--the coming Imperial "Cherry-ViewingGarden-Party," and the annual Palace duck-hunt at the _Shin-Hama_preserve, where the game is caught, like butterflies, in scoop-nets--thenew ceremonial for Imperial audiences--whether a stabbing affray betweentwo Legation _bettos_ would end fatally, and whether the TurkishMinister's gold dinner service was solid--and a little scandaloussurmise regarding the newest continental widow whose stay in Japan hadbeen long and her dinners anything but exclusive--a rumored engagement,and--at last!--the arrival of the new beauty at the American Embassy.
"A _real one_!" commented Voynich, screwing his eye-glass in moretightly. "And that means something in the tourist season."
Ware's fingers flattened on the stem of his glass of yellow chartreuseas the artist said: "We are in the throes of a new sensation at present,Mr. Ware; a case of love at first sight. It's really a lot rarer thanthe novelists make out, you know! We are all tremendously interested."
"But he knows her," said Voynich. "The other evening in Tokyo, Mr. Ware,Miss Fairfax mentioned having met you. She is from Virginia, I think."
Ware bowed. "She is very good to remember me," he said. "And so MissFairfax has met her fate in Japan?"
"Well, rather!" said the artist. "I hear betting is even that she'llaccept him inside a fortnight."
Ware sipped his liqueur with a tinge of relief. Evidently the world ofTokyo had not yet discovered that the new arrival's first name was thatof his yacht.
"Daunt doesn't play according to Hoyle," grumbled Voynich. "She's aguest of his own chief and he ought to give the others half a chance. Helives in the Embassy Compound, too, confound him! He monopolized heroutrageously at the Review the other day! He's an American 'trust.' Ishall challenge him."
The voice of DeKay broke in:
"Coppery hair and pansy-brown eyes, a skin like a snowdrift caughtblushing, and a mouth like the smile of a re
d flower! A girl that Romneymight have loved, slim and young and thoroughbred--there you have thecapital sentence of the Secretary of the American Embassy!"
Down the middle of the street came running a boy, bare-legged,bareheaded and scantily clad. A bunch of jangling bells was tied to hisgirdle, and his hands were full of what looked like small bluehand-bills. DeKay got up quickly. "There's an evening extra," he said."It's the _Kokumin Shimbun_." He bolted down the steps, stopped therunner and returned with one of the blue sheets.
He scanned it rapidly--he was a student of the vernacular. "Nothingespecial," he informed them. "Prices in Wall Street are smashing therecords. That looks like a clear political horizon, in spite of what thewiseacres have been saying. This visit of the Squadron will prove auseful poultice, no doubt, to reduce international inflammation--itsofficers being shown the sights of the capital, and the celebrations tocome off as per schedule, including the Naval Minister's ball to-morrownight. By the way," he added, turning to Ware, "I arranged for aninvitation for you. It's probably at the hotel in Tokyo now, awaitingyour arrival."
A little gleam came to Ware's eyes. The threads were in his hands, andthis suited his plan. "Thanks," he said; "you're very kind, Commander. Ishall see the subject of your rhapsody, then, before the Judge puts onhis black cap."
"Ah, but you'll have no chance," laughed the Baroness. "Trust a woman'seye."
"Unless his aeroplane takes a tumble," said the American girlreflectively. "There's always a chance for a tragedy there!"
They rose to depart. "We are actually going to the opera, Mr. Ware,"said the Baroness; "the 'Popular Hardman Comic Opera Company,' if youplease, 'with Miss Cissy Clifford.' Doesn't that sound like Broadway? Itcomes over every season from Shanghai, and it's our regular springdissipation. You'd not be tempted to join us, I suppose?"
He bowed over her hand. "It is my misfortune to have an engagementhere."
"Well, then--_jusqu'au bal_. Good night."
* * * * *
Ware drank his black coffee alone on the terrace. Daunt--a Secretary ofEmbassy! A rival less experienced than he, full of youth'senthusiasms--a young Romeo, wooing from the garden of officialdom! Ithad been a handful of days against his own round year; a few meetings,at most, to offset his long and constant plan! And, as a result, thething he had seen through the car window. He shut his teeth. He wouldhave taken bitter toll of that kiss!
As he lit his cigar, one of the hotel boys came to him. On his arrivalWare had sent him to Phil's bungalow on the Bluff with a note.
"Ware-_San_ not at home," he said.
"Where is he?"
"No Yokohama now. He go Tokyo yesterday. Stay one week."
"Is he at the hotel there?"
"Boy say no hotel. House have got."
"What is the address?"
"Boy no must tell. He say letter send Tokyo Club."
Ware's composure had been fiercely shaken that night and this obstaclein his path pricked him to the point of exasperation. With impatience hethrew away his cigar and walked out through the cool, brilliant evening.
But the glittering pageant of the prismatic streets inspired only arising irritation. When a pedestrian jostled him, the elaborate bow ofapology and ceremonial drawing-in of breath met with only a morosestare. He left the Bund and threaded the _Honcho-dori_--the "MainStreet"--striving to curb his mood. Midway of its length was a jeweler'sshop-window with a beautiful display of jewel-jade. In it was hung asign which he read with a wry smile: "English Spoken: AmericanUnderstood." Ware entered and handed the Japanese clerk his brokencigar-case.
The counter was spread with irregular pieces of the green and pinkstone, wrought with all the laborious cunning of the oriental lapidary.At his elbow a clerk was packing a jade bracelet into a tiny box fordelivery. He wrapped and addressed it painstakingly with a littlebrush--
Esquire Philp Weare, Kasumiga-tani Cho, 36. Tokyo.
In the street Ware smiled grimly as he entered the address in hisnote-book. He had always believed in his luck. To-morrow he would findPhil, and gain further enlightenment--incidentally on the matter of jadebracelets! His mouth set in contemptuous lines as he walked back to thehotel.