THE DEVIL PIPES TO HIS OWN
Doctor Bersonin, huge and white-flanneled, with Phil by his side,
strolled away through the swarming crowd.
Not a word, not a glance of the younger man that evening, had escaped
him--he had been studying him with all the minute attention of that
great, overweening brain that, from an origin of which he never spoke,
had made him one of the foremost experimenters in Europe. The swift
gleam in Phil's eye as he watched the _geisha_, the eager drinking in of
the girlish daintiness, the colors and perfumes to which he stretched
himself like a cat--the watchful, impassive eyes took note of
everything. All Bersonin's talk had held an evil lure. It had touched on
the extravagant and sensual vagaries of luxury, the sybaritic pleasures
of the social _gourmet_, subjects appealing to the imagination of the
youth whom he was examining like a slide under the microscope. They had
stopped once at a _chaya_ for tea, but Phil had called for the hot
native _saké_, and as its musty, sherry-like fumes crept into his blood
he talked with increasing recklessness. Beneath their veiled
contemptuousness, Bersonin's feline eyes began to harbor a stealthy
satisfaction. He had guessed why Phil had suggested coming to Mukojima.
The latter's restlessness, his anxious surveillance of the passers-by,
might have enlightened a less observant spectator.
Phil's new passion had, in fact, a strong hold on him. That long-ago
picture of Haru, barefooted in the surf, frequent recollection had
stamped on his brain and the sight of her fresh beauty to-day had fanned
the coal to a flame. Those stolen kisses in the bamboo lane had roused a
lurking devil that counted nothing but his own desires. For this hour,
while the _saké_ ran in his pulses, the flame overshadowed even
Bersonin.
"Well, my boy," said the latter at length quizzically, "when you find
her, just give me the hint and I'll go."
Phil flushed, then laughed shortly. "So you are a mind-reader, too?" he
said.
"It's written all over you," said Bersonin. "Why didn't you tell me? We
could have postponed our dinner and left you free for the chase. It _is_
a chase, eh?"
"Yes," said Phil. "I--I haven't had much luck with her yet. I just
happened to know she was to be here to-night. She's a pretty little
devil," he added, "the prettiest I've seen in Japan."
"The Japanese type is the rage in Paris now," said the other. "Take her
there, dress her in jewels, and drive her through the _Bois_ some
afternoon and you'll be the most talked-of man in France next morning."
The red deepened in Phil's cheek. The prospect drew him. He looked at
Bersonin. Paris and jewels!
He drank more _saké_ at the next tea-house. It had begun to show in a
shaking of the hand, a louder voice. Suddenly Phil sprang to his feet.
"There she is!" he exclaimed.
Bersonin looked. "Lovely!" he said, "I congratulate you. I'll walk back
to the motor-car--the sights amuse me. You can come along when you
please. Dinner will wait. And, anyway, what's dinner to a pretty woman?"
Phil plunged into the crowd and the expert spoke quickly to the servant,
who was staring after him. "Better keep him in sight," he said. "You can
come when he does."
Bersonin was sauntering on, when a turmoil behind him made him turn. A
woman's cry and an angry oath in English rang out, startlingly clear
above the low murmur of the multitude. He caught a glimpse of a Japanese
form leaping like a tiger--of Phil lying in the dust of the road--of a
girl vanishing swiftly into the shadows.
As the expert hurried forward, Phil stumbled to his feet. Lights were
dancing before his eyes and his neck felt as if he had been garroted.
With his first breath he turned on Ishida, incoherent with rage and
curses. The big man caught his arm.
"The honorable sir make mistake," said the Japanese smoothly. "Man have
done that who have ranned away."
"He lies!" said Phil fiercely. "There was no one else near me but the
girl. He did it himself! He tried to _ju-jits'_ me!"
The fingers of the Japanese were clenched, but his face was impassive as
he added: "I think he have been snik-thief."
"That's no doubt the way it was, Phil," said Bersonin. "Why on earth
would Ishida touch you? That's an old thieves' trick. The fellow tried
to get your watch, I suppose. But we must move on. The police will be
here presently, and we don't want our names in the papers."
They went rapidly through the close ranks that had been watching with
the decorous, inquisitive silence so typically oriental.
"I suppose you're right," said Phil sulkily. "I--I beg your pardon,
Ishida."
The Japanese bowed gravely.
"Only a mistake," he said, "which honorable sir make."