The Kingdom of Slender Swords
Page 38
CHAPTER XXXVI
BEHIND THE SHIKIRI
Mr. Y. Nakajima, the almond-eyed guide of gold-filled teeth, came to theend of his elaborate conversation. He turned from the old servant,leaning on his pruning knife, and spoke to the man who stood waitingoutside the wistaria-gate in the Street-of-the-Misty-Valley.
"He say Mr. Philip Ware stay here," he announced, "but house isownerships of his friend, Mr. Daunt, of America Embassy. He regret sadlythat no one are not at home."
Ware reflected. Daunt's house? He lived in the Embassy compound--so theyhad said at dinner last night. Why should he maintain this native housein another quarter of Tokyo? There came to his mind that hackneyedphrase "the custom of the country," the foreigner's speciousjustification of the modern "Madame Butterfly." In this interminablecity, with its labyrinthine mazes, who could tell what this or that grayroof might shelter? Was this a nook enisled, for pretty Japaneseromances "under the rose"? He had loaned it to Phil--they were friends.
Ware struck his stick hard against the hedge. He scarcely knew whatthought had entered his mind, so nebulous was it, so indefinable. If hehad thought to use this discovery, he knew no way; if it was Daunt'scovert, here was Phil in possession.
"Ask him if he has any idea where he is."
The guide translated. The servant was ignobly unacquainted, as yet, withthe _danna-San's_ illustrious habits. He arrogantly presumed to suggestthat he might augustly be in any one of a hundred esteemed spots.
Ware thought a moment, frowningly. "Tell him I am Ware-_San's_ brother,"he said then, "and that I have just arrived in Tokyo. I shall wait inthe house till he comes."
The old man bowed profoundly at the statement of the relationship. Hespoke at some length to the guide. The latter looked at Warequestioningly but hesitated.
"Well?" asked the other tartly.
"He think better please you wait to the hotel."
Ware struck open the gate with a flare of irritation. "You can go now,"he said to the guide, and disdaining the servant, strode along thegravel path to the house entrance.
The old man looked after him with an enigmatic Japanese smile. It wasnot his fault if the foreigners (the _kappa_ devour them!) ate deadbeasts and were all quite mad! He tucked up his _kimono_, stacked hisgardening-tools neatly under the hedge, and betook himself across thestreet for a smoke and a game of _Go_ with the neighbor's _betto_.
Under the trailing vine Ware slid back the _shoji_ and entered thehouse.
As he stood looking at the interior his lip curled. He hated thecheapness and vulgarity to which Phil turned with instinctive liking,and he had long ago come thoroughly to despise his younger brother andto relish the whip-hand which the law, with its guardianship, gave him.The place fitted Phil, from the cigarette odor to the loud photograph inthe dragon-frame and the partly open wall-closet with its significantarray of bottles. It expressed his idea of "a good time!"
He slid open a _shikiri_. It showed a room, evidently unused, litteredwith tools, a dusty table with models of curious wing-like propellers, asmall electric dynamo and a steel-lathe. He opened another, and stoodlooking at the room it disclosed with a faint smile. It was scrupulouslyclean and orderly, and, in contrast to the outer apartment, had anatmosphere of delicate refinement. On the wall hung a tiny gilt image ofKwan-on and below it on an improvised shelf an incense rod was burningwith a clean, pungent odor. At one side was suspended a mosquito-bar ofdark green gauze, and across a low stool was laid a _kimono_, withsilver camelias on a mauve ground. He picked this up and looked at itcuriously, half conscious of a faint perfume that clung to it.
He shut his teeth. The camelia had always been Barbara's favoriteflower!
* * * * *
Meanwhile the girl thus incongruously in his thought had felt agray shadow across her sunshine. She found her uncle greatlyperplexed and troubled. Haru's Bible, found on the Chapel doorstep,had been brought to him that morning. He had sent at once to theStreet-of-Prayer-to-the-Gods and the messenger had returned with news ofher disappearance. The fact that she had taken clothing with her showedthat the flight was a deliberate one.
It pained him to think what the return of the book and the little crossmight mean. In his long residence in Japan the bishop had grownaccustomed to strange _denouements_, to flashing revelations of subtledeeps in oriental character. But save for one instance of many yearsago--which the sight of Barbara must always recall to him--he had neverbeen more saddened than by to-day's disclosure. What he told her hadleft Barbara with an uneasy apprehension. She drove away pondering. Theanxious speculation blurred the glamour of the afternoon.
The homeward course took her through Aoyama, by unfrequented streets ofpleasant, suburban-like gardens and small houses with roofs of flutedtile as softly gray as silk. Here and there a bean-curd peddler dronedhis cry of "_To-o-fu! To-o-fu-u!_" and under a spreading _kiri_ tree ablind beggar squatted, playing a flute through his nostrils, while hiswife, also blind and with a beady-eyed baby strapped to her back,twanged a _samisen_ beside him. In the road groups of little girls wereplaying games with much clapping of hands and shouting in shrill voices.
In one of the cross-streets a dozen coolies strode, carrying flamingwhite banners painted in red idiographs. The last bore a huge_papier-mache_ bottle--an advertisement of a popular brand of beer. Abrass band of four pieces, discoursing hideously tuneless sounds, ledthem, and between band and banners stalked a grotesquely clad figure onstilts ten feet tall, the shafts pantalooned so that his legs seemed tohave been drawn out like India-rubber. The spidery pedestrian wasfollowed by a score of staring children of all ages and sizes.
Suddenly Barbara rose to her feet in the carriage. She had seen a girlemerge from a small temple and turn into a side street.
"Fast! Drive fast, Taka," she called quickly. "The street to the left!"He obeyed, but a _soba-ya_ had halted his shining copper cart ofsteaming buckwheat, and momentarily delayed them.
The hastening figure was farther away when they rounded the turning.Barbara clasped her hands together. "It _was_ Haru! It _was_ Haru! I am_sure_!" she whispered.
The girl slipped through a gateway hung with wistaria. As Barbara sprangto the ground she was hurrying through the garden.
"Haru!" But the flying figure did not seem to hear the call.
Barbara ran quickly after her along the gravel path.
* * * * *
In the house, Austen Ware, standing with the _kimono_ in his hand, hadheard the rumble of carriage wheels. He had left the outer _shoji_ open,and through the aperture he saw the slim form hastening toward thedoorway. An exclamation broke from his lips. Behind her, just enteringthe gate, was Barbara!
For a breath he stared. A cool, thriving suspicion--one bred of hisanger and humiliation, that shamed his manhood--ran through him.Barbara, _there_? Was it another _rendezvous_, then? The fierce,self-dishonoring doubt merged into the mad jealousy that already burnedhim like a brand.
He dropped the _kimono_, drew back the _shikiri_ of the unusedapartment, and stepped inside.
Swiftly and noiselessly the light partition slipped into place behindhim.