“Hullo, Darrin; come over here just a moment. I want you to see
something that is rather unusual, even in Japan.”
Two young men, who had just entered the American Club in Tokio, turned
when this hail to one of them was heard.
The hail came from a group in which sat four Americans, one Englishman
and three young Japanese. The latter three were in the uniforms of
lieutenants of the Emperor’s infantry.
“Come over with me, Dan,” urged Dave in a low voice, as Dalzell held
back slightly.
“I wasn’t invited,” murmured Dan.
“You simpleton, that’s because Carter doesn’t know you. I can introduce
you, and that will set you straight.”
“How are you, Carter?” asked Dave, as he went straight up to the young
man who had hailed him and held out his hand. “I wish to introduce my
friend, Mr. Dalzell, same service and same ship.” In turn Dave and Dan
were presented to all in the group.
The American naval officers wore blue civilian suits. Carter belonged
to the diplomatic service, and was now stationed in Tokio. Dave had
first met him in Washington. One of the other Americans was in business
in Tokio, and the other two were tourists.
“Mr. Katura was showing us something so wonderful,” Carter explained,
“that I asked his permission to call you over to see it. Will you show
that wonderful medallion again, Katura?”
The little lieutenant, who appeared to be very shy and diffident,
flushed slightly as he bowed. Then, from an inner pocket, he drew out a
small lacquer box, from which he took out and passed to Dave a filigree
gold plate on which appeared the delicately tinted face of a beautiful
Japanese woman.
“I never saw anything so wonderfully exquisite,” gasped Darrin, in
genuine admiration. “I didn’t know that such beautiful work could be
done.”
“No one in Japan could do it to-day,” spoke up another of the Japanese
officers, Toruma by name. “That medallion comes from the most brilliant
period of Satsuma art.”
In that face the paler flesh tints had been laid, with wonderful
minuteness of detail, from flawless mother of pearl. The hair, which
stood out in life-like accuracy, had been worked in some highly
polished blue-black stone. The teeth, as they showed in the parted lips
of that tiny miniature, were real seed pearls, worked in the exact
shapes of the teeth represented.
The most striking feature of all was the beautiful red lips of the tiny
mouth. This red had been laid in fine rubies, not showing separately,
but blended delightfully.
For fully two minutes Darrin gazed at the miniature face, fascinated
with the beauty of the thing. Dan, standing by, admired it also.
“Now, try the effect of this magnifying glass on the face,” suggested
Carter.
“It would be almost wicked to hold a magnifying glass over such a
treasure,” protested Ensign Dave, recoiling slightly, as though from a
profanation of an art treasure.
“Try the glass; don’t be afraid,” said Carter.
So Dave took the glass, focusing it over the wonderful medallion. A cry
of wonder escaped the young ensign’s lips.
“Can you find the slightest appearance of roughness under the glass?”
asked the American diplomat.
“I cannot,” Dave confessed.
“Think of the wonderful work of the artist,” suggested Toruma, “who, in
an age when magnifying glasses were unknown, could join all the parts
of that inlaying so perfectly.”
“It is wonderful,” murmured Dave. “The artist’s eyes must have been as
keen as any magnifying lens.”
For some minutes more Darrin examined the medallion, both with the
glass and without. The Japanese, smiling and affable, stood enjoying
his very evident pleasure. Their hearts warmed to a foreigner who could
feel such real appreciation of the marvels of the ancient art of their
country.
“Here, I am afraid that you had better take this from me,” begged
Darrin laughingly, at last. “If it is much longer in my possession I
shall be under a temptation to commit grand larceny.”
Smiling, Lieutenant Katura held out his hand to receive the treasure.
“It has been in our family for at least six hundred years,” he
explained proudly, though without any sign of boastfulness. “It belongs
to my mother.”
“I should think you would be afraid of its being stolen,” suggested
Dave.
“Ordinarily it is kept in the Okugawa Bank, in our family vault,”
explained the little lieutenant. “Once Mr. Carter saw the medallion, at
our home, and to-day he begged me to bring it here to show to some of
his friends. I am glad to have been honored with an opportunity to give
you pleasure by the sight of it.”
“But surely you don’t carry such a treasure loosely in your pocket like
that,” Dave almost protested.
“Why not?” smiled Katura.
“Are you not afraid of its being stolen?” Darrin went on.
“Not likely,” declared the little lieutenant. “I am able to defend
myself, and I shall have my friends with me on my trip back to the
Okugawa Bank.”
“But pickpockets might brush against you in a crowd, and take it from
you,” Dave hinted.
“They will not have that chance,” smiled Katura. “From here to the bank
my friends and I will go in jinrikishas.”
As the tiffin (luncheon) hour drew near, the club rooms began to fill.
There were, perhaps, a hundred newcomers.
“You’ll come to our table, Darrin?” asked Mr. Carter.
“I thank you, and under any other circumstances I would,” Dave
answered. “My wife will be expecting me at the hotel. She and I have
not had many opportunities to lunch together since I entered the
service. So I shall have to be going along soon.”
“You’ll stay, Dalzell?” asked the diplomat.
Dan decided that he would. The Japanese officers were invited to
remain, but replied that they had duties claiming their attention.
So Dave left with Lieutenants Katura, Toruma and Hata. In the main
corridor these departing ones found themselves somewhat delayed, owing
to the press of the crowd about one of the coat-rooms.
At last they got through. A Japanese attendant, saluting the three
officers of his own country, ran nimbly to the end of the porch,
striking his hands together and summoning three jinrikisha men, who
raced up to the steps.
“Farewell, for an hour or two, at least, American brother in arms,”
cried Toruma, the most talkative of the three Japanese. Friendly
salutes were exchanged, and the Japanese trio were rushed away.
Dave’s jinrikisha came around. In appearance it was an exaggerated
baby-carriage, with shafts, between which a stout Japanese coolie
played the part of a horse.
These curious little street vehicles are comfortable, and the seasoned
coolie in the shafts often displays great speed. The slowest he is
allowed to travel on short journeys, when he has a fare in his ’riksha,
is five miles an hour.
“To the Imperial Hotel,” said Dave briefly. That was all that was
needed. The human “horse” in the shafts would do the rest.
In a few minutes Dave arrived at the big, handsome Imperial Hotel. This
hostelry, famous among travelers in the East, is an imposing white
pile, built originally by the Japanese government, that travelers might
be sure of having a stopping place as comfortable as any in the lands
from which they came. Bit by bit the management bought over the
government’s interest in the hotel, until now it is privately owned,
though the pride of the Japanese is such that the government still
supervises the hotel, and sees to it that the high standard is kept up.
As Dave Darrin entered he passed into one of the parlors at the
entrance. Belle rose and came forward, a glad little cry on her lips.
“How thankful I am that I thought of coming to Yokohama!” she cried.
“It was but a step to Tokio. And you are punctual.”
“It is one of the virtues—or vices—of an officer and a gentleman,”
Darrin laughed, as he bent over to kiss her.
“And now are you ready for tiffin, dear?”
“I shall be as soon as I have made my toilet,” Dave replied. “May I
have your indulgence that long?”
“Certainly.”
Going below Ensign Darrin washed off the dust of his forenoon’s
wanderings, smoothed back his hair, and with a final look in the glass
drew on his coat and started above.
Dave was now in about the middle of a three-weeks’ leave, which Dalzell
had taken at the same time. In the Navy service an officer does not
have, regularly, one day in every seven on which he is free from toil.
He is on duty, day and night, seven days a week. By way of leisure he
is allowed a certain portion of every month, when practicable, in the
way of “leave.” When an officer has no especial use for leave, he often
allows it to accumulate, and then later on secures a long enough leave
to use up his privileges in the way of absence from duty. So Dave was
now on a three-weeks’ leave—a “vacation” it would be called in civil
life.
Several other officers from the “Katahdin” were in either Yokohama or
Tokio. The former city, only a few miles from the latter, is the port
of entry for the Japanese capital. In the harbor at Yokohama the
American flagship now lay.
Up to the present Darrin had devoted most of his waking time to
escorting Belle through the bewildering Japanese shops, to Uyeno Park,
to the Japanese theatres, to the famous temples, and all the other
sights that attract tourists.
But this forenoon Darrin had spent in going about Tokio, meeting a few
of the people whom he had known in other parts of the world. There was
Lieutenant Anstey, one of Dick Prescott’s West Point chums, now on duty
at the American Embassy; there were naval officers, and two or three
men in the diplomatic service. Dave had even called at the Japanese
Navy Department to shake hands with two Japanese officers whom he had
met in Europe. These latter two were absent, and Dave, leaving cards,
had promised to return in the afternoon.
“You are going to be busy this afternoon?” Belle asked as they sat at
tiffin.
“I shall have to make two or three calls, but I shall come back to you
as early as I can.”
Two or three times it was on the tip of Darrin’s tongue to tell his
wife of the wonderful medallion he had seen that morning. In each case
some remark or question of Mrs. Darrin’s had prevented.
In the meantime, Lieutenant Katura, on entering the Okugawa Bank, had
made an amazing and frightful discovery. The lacquer box, containing
the priceless Satsuma medallion, was not in any of his pockets! The
young lieutenant’s grief was most frantic. In vain Toruma and Hata
tried to comfort him.
An hour after Ensign Darrin had left the Imperial Hotel, on his way to
the Navy Department and elsewhere, Belle Darrin, going up to their
rooms, found a little package and a note lying on a table in the middle
of their parlor.
Scenting some loving surprise from her husband, Belle, womanlike,
opened the package first, disclosing a small lacquer box. In the box
she found the same medallion that had so fascinated her young husband
that forenoon.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried the delighted girl, in as many notes of happiness.
Then, still eager, she laid down the medallion and tore open the
envelope. On a sheet of heavy paper she read:
“Dear Mrs. Darrin: This comes to your hand from one who is a
stranger to you, but who is a most devoted friend of your
husband. He has admired the pretty trinket which comes with this
note, and I know that he had it in mind that he would dearly love
to hand it to you. I am taking the liberty, as your husband’s
friend, of pleasing Ensign Darrin, the dearest fellow in the
world. But I am going to ask of you a very unusual favor. Fearing
that your husband might have the extreme delicacy to insist upon
returning this bauble, I am going to ask you not to mention
receipt of it until to-morrow. By that time the sender, as your
husband will know, will be too far away for the immediate return
of this trifle. By the time that he can communicate with me again
I trust that he will have agreed to give me the great pleasure of
making him happier through the knowledge that his wife possesses
a treasure that I know he wished to secure for her.
With every best assurance,
(Signed) X. Polemkin.”
This strange note dropped from Belle’s fingers to the table. There was
a clouded look in her eyes. She did not even turn for another glance at
the priceless medallion.
“Secrets from my husband?” she murmured, pouting. “I don’t believe I
can do a thing like that. No; it wouldn’t be right. As soon as Dave
returns I must show him this medallion and the note.”
Perhaps, in her heart, Belle hoped that Dave would tell her that
circumstances were such that she might properly keep the gift so
strangely sent. Be that as it might, Belle Darrin had no notion of
keeping any secret that might mean a wound to her gallant young
husband’s trusting heart.
“I shall see what Dave says,” murmured Belle, as she turned away from
the table.