“Katura, my dear fellow, I’m immensely sorry to have kept you waiting,”
cried Dave genially, as he entered the parlor. His nod took in Toruma
and Hata as well.
“The waiting has not been tiresome,” replied Katura coldly, rising to
his feet, as did his comrades in arms.
“And now, Katura,” Dave went on, “I am going to ask you if you can
clear up the mystery as to how this medallion, this magnificent
heirloom of yours, fell into Mrs. Darrin’s hands.”
“I came to see if _you_ could account for that,” replied the little
lieutenant coldly, though his face still wore a smile.
“Why, what do you mean?” asked Dave. “All I know is that, upon my
return, I found that Mrs. Darrin had been presented, under very strange
circumstances, with this medallion, which I instantly recognized as
yours.”
“I saw it in her hand when she opened the door to us,” Katura answered.
“Beyond that, about all that I know, Mr. Darrin, is that, upon my
arrival at the Okugawa Bank, I found the box missing from the pocket in
which I had placed it.”
“Then it was not you who sent this box and its contents to Mrs.
Darrin?” the American ensign demanded.
“I did not send it to her,” Katura rejoined.
“Then how did she come to receive it?”
“That is what I have come to ask you, Mr. Darrin,” returned the little
infantry lieutenant.
“What do you mean?” asked Dave, coloring slightly, for, despite the
smiles on the three Japanese faces, there was something accusing in
their manners.
“How did this box happen to reach your wife?” asked Lieutenant Hata,
gravely.
Dave frankly related the circumstances as told him by his wife.
“If we could see the note, that might throw some light on the matter,”
suggested Lieutenant Hata, darkly.
“That is the curious part of it, gentlemen,” said Dave, gravely. “Soon
after the gift came that note disappeared, and neither Mrs. Darrin nor
I have been able to find any trace of it.”
“That is certainly remarkable,” said Hata, with emphasis.
“Very remarkable,” agreed Toruma.
“So remarkable,” added Katura, “that I cannot comprehend it at all.”
“At any rate, before I leave Tokio,” proposed Darrin, “I shall hope to
have the whole matter cleared up.”
For the second time Lieutenant Katura’s face flushed a fiery red. He
could not help feeling that he was being lightly or insolently used. In
his own mind the Japanese was not prepared to suspect an American
officer and gentleman of deliberate theft.
“Mr. Darrin,” asked Katura, “is this your idea of a really clever
joke?”
“What do you mean, sir?” demanded Dave Darrin, flushing in turn.
“Can you realize, sir, how I must have felt,” the little lieutenant
went on, “when my mother permitted me to take this medallion from the
bank vault to show it to American friends, and then I returned to the
bank to find that the heirloom was missing from my pocket?”
“I have told you all that I know about the matter,” Ensign Dave
insisted with dignity. “Is that not enough?”
“No, sir, it is not!” replied Lieutenant Katura, firmly. “I trust you
will pardon me when I say that it was all a very stupid joke!”
“Joke?” gasped Dave. “Do you mean—”
He paused, unwilling to finish the sentence, for it seemed to him that
this angry little Japanese had suddenly thrown a doubt around Mrs.
Darrin’s word.
“You have no further explanation to offer me?” asked Katura frigidly.
“There is no other explanation to be offered, sir,” Dave Darrin
returned, with equal stiffness.
“Then I am sorry, but I have to do—this!”
Advancing a step or two, Lieutenant Katura landed the flat of his right
hand across the cheek of the American ensign.
Swifter than a flash Ensign Darrin returned the insult in the same
manner.
“That is enough of this, between gentlemen,” exclaimed Lieutenant
Toruma, leaping between the two angry young officers. Hata followed,
saying:
“Quite enough!”
“The rest,” remarked Toruma, “can be settled in a much different
fashion.”
Dave cooled down a bit, realizing that he had sustained himself by
returning the insult in the same form in which it had been delivered.
Unless he were struck again he did not propose to discredit himself by
brawling in the parlor of a hotel.
Katura, after a moment of sullenness, flashed at Toruma a look that the
latter quite understood.
“Have you any idea, Mr. Darrin,” Toruma asked, “when I shall be
fortunate enough to find Mr. Dalzell in?”
“Probably at about five-thirty,” Dave answered. “He will wish to dress,
and we dine at six.”
“Then we will do ourselves the honor of wishing you good afternoon,”
said Hata, bowing low. In another moment the three Japanese had left
the room.
“Well, of all the odd experiences!” muttered Ensign Darrin, frowning.
After a moment or two he left the parlor, going direct to his
apartment.
“Was it Mr. Katura who sent me that medallion?” asked Belle, at once.
“He says not,” Dave answered.
“Then who—”
“Belle, dear, do you mind letting me think this little puzzle out in
silence?” begged Dave.
For a long time he sat silent. At last he told Belle what had happened
below.
“But why should Mr. Katura strike you?” asked Belle, her eyes flashing.
“That is what I cannot understand,” Dave rejoined, in a hurt tone. “I
have looked upon Katura as a fine little fellow, and I imagine him to
be the soul of honor.”
“Does he doubt your word, then, about the manner in which the medallion
came into our possession?” Belle quizzed.
“He had better not,” her young husband retorted. “I would not be
patient under an insinuation that my word is doubted. Belle, I cannot
explain any single part of the matter.”
So the pair talked it over for a long time, but no point in the tangle
became a whit clearer.
Late in the afternoon there came a knock at the door.
“Come in,” called Dave.
“Hullo! There you are,” cried Danny Grin, opening the door a little and
showing his head. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Darrin. Dave, old fellow, have
you time to favor me with just a little visit in my room?”
“Why, certainly,” assented Darrin, rising at once, for there was
suppressed excitement in Dalzell’s voice.
Dan, however, remained silent until he had led the way down the
corridor and had closed the door of his room on the chums.
“Now, Dave,” gasped the other young ensign, “what is all this about?”
“What is what about?” parried Dave.
“Why,” Danny rattled on, “there is some yarn about Katura’s medallion
having come into your possession. You and Katura had some words in the
parlor, and he struck you in the face.”
“And I promptly returned the blow in kind,” Darrin responded.
“Exactly,” nodded Dalzell. “That appears to have been the start that is
to lead up to something very pretty. When I came in I found Toruma and
Hata awaiting me. They told me that Katura had sent them to see me, or
any other friend or friends who you may prefer, to arrange for a
meeting at which the memory of the blows exchanged should be wiped out.
In plain words, David, little giant, you are challenged to fight a duel
with Lieutenant Katura.”
“A duel?” echoed Dave Darrin, aghast. “That’s a joke!”
“If it is,” retorted Danny Grin, dryly, “then please help me to find
out the point at which I am to laugh.”
“But I have sworn to uphold the laws of the United States and to obey
the regulations of the United States Navy,” Dave continued, “and
dueling is against the regulations.”
“It looks,” returned Dan, soberly, “as though you would have to fight,
or ‘lose face.’”
“And if I engage in a duel,” Dave retorted, “I have perjured myself,
for I shall have broken the regulations that I am sworn to obey.”
“Well, then,” Dan inquired, “what _are_ you going to do? Go back aboard
the ‘Katahdin’ and forego all shore leave as long as we are in Japanese
waters? But, for that matter, would naval officers of any foreign
service respect you anywhere in the world? For the officers of most
navies still fight duels at need, and the Japanese officers would be
likely to snub you, in every foreign port, for what they would consider
your ‘shame.’”
“But on what basis am I expected to fight?” Dave demanded. “Because I
answered Katura’s blow on the face?”
“I suppose that is the pretended reason,” Dalzell answered, gravely.
“Of course every one familiar with dueling will know that some deeper
cause exists.”
“It must be the inexplicable matter of the medallion that makes Katura
so anxious to slit my windpipe with a sword, or drive a bullet through
my breast,” Dave went on. “I must tell you, Dan, all that I know about
this wretched matter of the medallion.”
Danny Grin’s eyes opened wider and wider as he heard the tale.
“That’s the story,” nodded Dalzell vigorously, when he had heard it
all. “I understand now. Katura can’t think that you _stole_ the
medallion. That would be altogether contrary to the nature of an
officer and a gentleman. But he figures that you took the medallion
from him as a joke, and when he realizes that you, in turn, might have
lost it, and thinks of the anguish of his mother, who owns the
medallion, then Katura’s blood is up, and he must fight you. Hence, he
gave you the blow in the face, which you returned. Therefore, according
to the ideals of the duello, you owe him a meeting on the field of
honor.”
“That field of honor will have grown into a forest, if he waits until I
meet him there,” Dave declared firmly.
“Then you simply won’t fight a duel.”
“I shall not!”
“What grounds shall I give for your refusal?”
“Simply tell Katura’s seconds that duelling is against the United
States Naval Regulations, which I have sworn to obey and uphold. Tell
Mr. Katura’s seconds that I decline, on any pretext, to break the
regulations knowingly.”
“Whew!” whistled Danny Grin. “The Japanese smile is historic, and a
thing of beauty, but I can see the assortment of Japanese smiles that
will greet any such reply on my part. I shall get a regular Japanese
horse laugh!”
“Then when you meet Toruma and Hata, cut the interview as short as you
can,” Dave suggested, “and get it over with. But make it as plain as
you know how that I simply won’t fight a duel.”
“Oh, I can make it plain enough, and they will believe me in a
minute—no trouble about that,” Dan murmured as he rose. “But they will
decline to believe in your lofty ideas of right and wrong, and will set
it all down to plain American cowardice.”
“I am sorry to impose any such errand upon you, Danny boy,” sighed
Dave. “But I will go with you, and speak for myself.”
“Oh, that wouldn’t do at all,” protested Dan, aghast. “In dueling the
principal never goes to meet the other chap’s seconds. His own second
must do that for him.”
“But there isn’t going to be any duel,” smiled Dave, “and I am not a
principal, nor are you my second. You are my friend, and the best in
the world, but you will never be my second.”
“There’s going to be the dickens of a mix-up,” grunted Dalzell, as,
after wringing Darrin’s hand, he moved toward the door. “I’ll do the
best I can, but you must expect, after declining a duel, to be snubbed
everywhere in Tokio.”
“Then I shall endeavor to set Tokio an example in calmness,” smiled
Dave again. But the instant that the door had closed on him, and he
strolled down the hallway, a thoughtful frown came to his face.
In the meantime Dan Dalzell was hastening below, on a by no means
pleasant mission.
Just now Dave did not want to go back to Belle, for fear she might
question him. After a turn or two he went back to Dalzell’s room.
Half an hour later, growing impatient, Dave decided to go below and to
address Toruma and Hata himself.
Down in the lobby Ensign Dave beheld Lieutenants Toruma and Hata,
talking with two men who looked like Englishmen.
“Dan must have finished his part,” thought Dave. “I’ll see if I can
draw Toruma aside.”
Just as Dave Darrin approached the group Toruma caught sight of him.
Some low-voiced remark ran through the group.
“May I have a word with you, Mr. Toruma, at your convenience?” Dave
inquired.
There was no reply. The two Japanese and the English pair merely
wheeled about abruptly, turning their backs upon him.