It was about this time that some steps were slowly measured up the stairway, and the door to which they had their backs turned was carefully opened.
“To Shinsuké-san, I believe I tender this greeting of first meeting. Know me please as Tokubey, of Sunamura.”
The man checked himself at the threshold and bowed low, a tobacco pouch of fancy leather dangling from his right hand. Clad in a heavy, easy silk gown of finely meshed pattern and a short outer-coat of bluish dapple of minute design, a man of prosperous dimensions, smooth of manner and apparently of mind, befitting the description given before.
“Will you two there be just quiet? I’m in the thick of my concert, don’t you see?” Her expostulation was flung at them brusquely, just as the two men were about to enter into the ceremony of mutual introduction. But, without so much as giving them a glance, she played on.
“Sorry to disturb you, but you are wanted at once. Let me have a word with you downstairs—I shan’t keep you long.”
At this moment, his eyes sought hers with a peculiar gleam, evidently intent on conveying to her a covert message.
“I know what I am wanted for, but you couldn’t budge me with a sledgehammer, tonight! Just think! Going with my dearest body left here alone?—No, and you feel for me, and say no more!”
“You are wrong. It is true there is that thing you remember about; but what I am now here for, concerns this very young man here, Shinsuké-san.”
“How long have you kept yourself in here, anyhow?—that you should know Shin-san by his name, when you’ve never seen him before?” She levelled her question, now laying her samisen aside.
“Just a moment ago,” he explained. “But hearing you downstairs call out ‘Shin-san’ every now and then, it wasn’t such a hard guessing. To find you hale and strong like this after all hopes were lost,” he turned to the young man, “why, what could be better—mean more happiness for O-Tsuya?”
“So, not much of poking in your nose. Well, if you must have it your way, let me hear it here.”
“Aha! Why’s that? You’ve got all the time on your hand, now that your best man’s been caught. Why not a minute off—downstairs—and I’m not going to keep you longer than that.”
A prey to vague, nameless fears, Shinsuké anxiously followed their bandied words. At first, he could not but feel misgivings whither their talk might lead; but Tokubey’s unchanging meekness and composure were soon to set him at ease in mind. He was even to feel sorry for him for showing admirable patience with her wayward manner of conducting the parley. Like a man of generally meek disposition that he was, Shinsuké was astounded to see how she twisted the man about her fingers, as if the name of “The Gambler Boss of Sunamura” meant to her nothing of awe or respect. From the Tsuya of before to the Somékichi of present—the change was no more brilliantly sweeping than the process had been one of conspicuous hardening of her character; and he secretly marveled thereat.
“Look, now, Tsuya,” Shinsuké interposed, in a low voice tempered with modesty. “Perhaps, it isn’t quite right of you to speak that way, when the boss has been so nice about it, as I followed you here. There’s nothing more, in particular, to keep you with me. Suppose, you go as he asks you, and be a good girl.”
“If you say so, I’ll go.” Her face broke into a sardonic grin, as she gave her acquiescence with such readiness as it was generally not her wont to show. Having adjusted her stray hair and her outer robe to correctness before a glass stand, she turned to say—
“Shin-san, while I’m gone, you behave and be a good mama’s baby, won’t you? I shan’t be gone long. I would never think of going for anything, except for what he said it was something about yourself. Feel as if I couldn’t let it go without knowing it—for what it is worth.”
“It’s nothing to be worried over, anyhow. So, just put yourself at ease about it, and I wish you a very good evening.” On these parting words from Tokubey, they went down the stairs.
Could it be that somebody had come to claim him back to Kinzo’s place? Or, that the boatman Seiji had tracked him out, and come to protest with Tokubey? Despite the assuring words at his going, Shinsuké could not overcome his apprehensions, more or less. If the latter of his surmises should be the case, he would have little to fear, since he had but one more day to keep himself at large. If the former was the case, how should he account himself to the old man? For, had not Shinsuké gone and straightway broken faith with that man who advised him not to fail to surrender himself the very next day?—those words spoken at their last parting, in those moments which were almost sacred?
“What a woman of power she is! Why am I always turned into such a spineless weakling when I am with her? Come what will, I will not fail to go tomorrow and offer myself into the hand of justice!”
Shinsuké spurred his own mind to strength and determination.
The parley downstairs seemed to drag rather long. Save for occasional tappings of the smoking pipe for clearing its fire bowl, there was to be heard nothing of a noise, or, strangely, of Tsuya’s high-pitched voice. It was not before about one hour’s time had elapsed when she was heard to break the stillness for the first time. “Then, you will wait awhile. I’ll go and see what my man will say to that,” she spoke, and hurried up the stairs. There
