iminal.

The evening household dinner remained untouched. The servants hung about
the doors, eager to be of service, refusing to believe the sick man was
anything but a prince of whom the gods were jealous. Only old Ishi was
happy. In festal robes he was stationed at the lodge gates with a small
table before him ready to do the honors of the house in the ancient
custom of receiving cards.

Up the steps came a long procession of students, officials and
civilians, my friends and Page's, every caller in best kimono. From one
hand dangled a lighted lantern with the caller's name and calling
shining boldly out through the thin paper, in the other he held a
calling-card which was laid upon the table in passing. The long line
testified to their liking and sympathy for the sick man. To each caller
Ishi had a wonderful tale to tell. The marvel of it grew as his cups of
sake increased. At a late hour I found him entertaining a crowd with the
story of how the silly foreign girl had cut off the heads of his
ancestors which were in the flowers. Now the gods were taking their
vengeance upon the one she loved best. Of course only an American girl
would be so brazen as to show her liking for any special man. I took him
by the shoulder.

"Ishi, you are drunk. And at such a time."

"No, Jenkins San, I triumph for Hanaford San. He die to escape Zura San.
'T is special 'casion. All Japanese gentlemens drink special 'casions. I
assist honorable gods celebrate downfall of 'Merca and women."

Having locked up the gates and Ishi, I went back to the living-room,
where I found Jane and Zura. It was my first opportunity to tell them in
detail what had happened at the Kencho--of Kobu's charge, the arrest and
Page's collapse.

Zura was called from the room by some household duty. Jane and I were
left alone. Though my companion looked tired and a little anxious, she
seemed buoyed up by some mental vision to which she hopefully clung.

"Miss Jenkins, please tell me just what the poster said," asked Jane.

The printed words I had read that morning seemed burned into my brain. I
repeated them exactly.

"Well, it didn't even give a hint that Page was that nice cashier
gentleman from Chicago, did it?" she inquired.

"No, Jane, it didn't; only it was signed by the Chicago Bank. But Kobu
told me he was sure Page was the man. He has cabled the authorities to
come."

"He has cabled, has he? He knows, does he? Kobu has himself going to
another t