of
dealing with tea-house Uncles.

Not far from the station is a black-and-tan temple--ancient and
restful. To that we strolled and sat on the edge of the Fountain
of Purification, which faces the quiet monastery garden, while we
talked things over. That is, Billy did the questioning; I did the
talking to the mystic chanting of the priests.

I quickly related all that I knew of what had happened to Sada, and
what was about to happen. There was no reason for me to adorn the
story with any fringes for it to be effective. Billy's face was
grim. He said little; put a few more questions, then left me
saying he would join me at dinner in the hotel.

I passed an impatient, tedious afternoon. Went shopping, bought
things I can never use, wondering all the time what was going to be
the outcome. Got a reassuring cable from Jack in answer to mine,
saying all was well with him.

Mr. Milton returned promptly this evening. He ordered dinner, then
forgot to eat. He did not refer to the afternoon; and long
intimacy with science has taught me when not to ask questions.
There was only a fragment of a plan in my mind; I had no further
communication from Sada, and knew nothing more than that the
wedding was only a day off.

We decided to go to Uncle's house together. I was to get in the
house and see Sada if possible, taking, as the excuse for calling,
a print on which, in an absent-minded moment, I had squandered
thirty yen.

Billy was to stay outside, and, if I could find the faintest reason
for so doing, I was to call him in. This was his suggestion.

I found Uncle scintillating with good humor and hospitality.
Evidently his plans were going smoothly; but not once did he refer
to them. I asked for Sada. Uncle smiled sweetly and said she was
not in. Ananias died for less! He was quite capable of locking
her up in some very quiet spot. I was externally indifferent and
internally dismayed. I showed him my print. At once he was the
eager, interested artist and he went into a long history of the
picture.

Though I looked at him and knew he was talking, his words conveyed
no meaning. I was faint with despair. It was my last chance. I
could have wagered Uncle's best picture that Billy was tearing up
gravel outside. I had been in the house an hour, and had
accomplished nothing. Surely if I stayed long enough something had
to happen.

Suddenly out of my hopelessness came a blessed thought. Uncle had.
once