MISUNDERSTANDING
The Honorable Henry Tillotson was much agitated. The night before he
had been the honored guest of Count Kure, the great prime minister
of Japan, and his impressions had been indeed reassuring. The prime
minister had himself acknowledged the growing confidence with which
diplomatic relations had proceeded. Then had come the account of the
fight between sailors from the American cruiser and Japanese citizens,
showing that ill feeling existed between the people of the two nations,
a most disquieting sign. And this was the day for Captain Rodgers’
presentation to the Emperor. The President of the United States had
sent by this special naval envoy an autograph letter to the Mikado,
the contents of which no one, not even the Secretary of State in
Washington, knew. The fact that there was a letter had leaked out in
some mysterious way, but Captain Rodgers had never affirmed or denied
its existence.
Leaning back in his chair near the ambassador’s desk was Mr. Impey. A
few scratches on his forehead, and a bandage about one wrist were the
only outward signs of his struggles of the night before.
“Your Excellency, I now have positive information of Japan’s
intentions, and it is no less than a contemplated seizure, by force if
necessary, of the entire new Chinese navy as soon as it has entered the
Yellow Sea.” Impey’s voice was low, but in the still room the startling
words caused the ambassador to glance uneasily about as if he feared
the presence of an eavesdropper.
“The proofs,” the ambassador exclaimed excitedly. “I dare not be
mistaken if I should cable this to my government.”
“I regret to say I have not the proofs. They were taken from me last
night. I would have laid them before you, only for a misfortune. My
house was entered last night by armed men who overpowered me. When I
came to my senses the document was gone. It probably is now in the
hands of the Japanese officials who lost it. The seal was broken, and
knowing that I can translate the Japanese characters they will know
that its contents are no longer a secret. My yacht is waiting me in
Yokohama with steam up, for I dare not trust myself longer in Japan.
I should now be on my way. My British citizenship would not save me.”
Impey’s face showed his eagerness to be gone.
“Cannot you tell me more fully what was in this document? This is a
very grave situation, Mr. Impey, and my government is under great
obligations to you for bringing this information to me. If you believe
that your safety is endangered I shall be glad to offer you an asylum
here in the legation or on board the ‘Alaska.’”
The ambassador’s usually composed aspect had entirely vanished;
nervously his fingers drummed on the desk, while his eyes flashed
excitedly.
“The letter was lost when my machine ran down a messenger who had been
entrusted with it,” Impey replied. “I cannot tell you now how it came
to fall into my hands, but it did, and I spent last evening translating
it and committing it to memory. It was rather long; if you wish I can
write its purport.”
The ambassador nodded his head eagerly, shoving a pad and pencil over
toward the speaker.
Impey took the pencil and began to write thoughtfully. A woman’s voice
came softly intruding upon the silence of the ambassador’s private
office.
“You must pardon the stupidity of our servants, Captain Inaba.” Helen’s
words were startlingly distinct, causing the ambassador to rise quickly
from his chair and Impey’s pencil to stop suddenly and then fall upon
the desk with a sharp click, while his hand crumpled the paper on which
it had been writing. “The idea of his not announcing you at once;
father is there in the office, I am sure.”
Impey gazed wildly about him. His face had gone quite white and the
usual sang-froid of his manner had evaporated.
No avenue of escape seemed possible.
The next moment the door was opened and Helen’s voice announced the
Japanese naval officer.
“Captain Inaba was wandering around like a lost soul in the hall,” she
exclaimed smilingly. “I didn’t know our servants could be so stupid.”
She caught sight of Mr. Impey and noticed for the first time the
strained attitude of the two men.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, a catch in her breath. She turned to Captain
Inaba; he was standing straight, with military precision, on the
threshold, waiting the pleasure of the ambassador to be invited to
enter. His sphinx-like face betrayed nothing.
With an impatient toss of her head and a displeased frown she quickly
withdrew, walking in stately fashion from the room.
In the big vestibule she discovered the two midshipmen. They had just
arrived and were taking off their overcoats. She went quickly to greet
them, a relieved smile on her face.
“What on earth is the matter?” she exclaimed suddenly, for there was
an atmosphere of gloom in their solemn faces. “Tell me at once. I am
not a child to be kept in ignorance. Is it the sailor fight in the
theatre--for I read that hours ago in the newspaper?”
“Is the ambassador at home?” Phil asked, ignoring her question. His
voice was anxious and his manner studied.
“Yes, but he is with Mr. Impey and Captain Inaba, so you had best come
with me to the library and wait until they go,” she replied, annoyed at
the evident secrecy in which she did not share.
“Mr. Impey, Captain Inaba!” both midshipmen exclaimed, casting
inquiring glances at each other.
“Well, why not Mr. Impey and Captain Inaba?” Helen’s voice betrayed
her irritation. “Neither one is a very dangerous person to have in the
house. You look as if you thought they were both anarchists.”
The lads allowed themselves to be led into the library, while Helen
sank down on the divan, motioning them to chairs near by.
“I want to know the whole thing, so you might just as well begin,” she
exclaimed impatiently. “Go on.” She stamped her foot.
“Miss Helen, there isn’t anything to tell.” Phil had exchanged a look
with his chum and received a nod to act as spokesman. “We’ve come to
see the ambassador and ask his advice; believe me, there is nothing to
tell.”
“Have Mr. Impey and Captain Inaba likewise come to ask father’s advice?
How extraordinary that all should come just at the same time!” Her tone
was sarcastic.
Sydney suddenly offered a weak excuse and hastily left the two young
people together. Phil’s face showed almost a panic, but Helen deftly
placed herself between him and the only avenue of escape.
The stern lines in Phil’s face had already begun to relax. “Will you
not trust me with your secret? For I see you have one,” she coaxed.
Phil shook from him his sombre humor and a smile played about his firm
mouth.
“I suppose I shall have to in the end,” he said resignedly.
How clear the sky seemed now when only a short time ago it was all
clouds.
“You have read the paper?” He indicated the “Shimbunshi” among other
papers on the library table. Helen nodded shortly.
“That’s all pure fabrication,” he exclaimed angrily. “There were
no people hurt on either side, and it is not likely to create a
diplomatic difficulty. The officers did not lead the sailors against
the Japanese, and the American flag was not intentionally insulted by
the Japanese.”
Phil eagerly told the excited girl the true story of the trouble in the
theatre and its happy outcome.
“We had as much as we could do in getting away alive,” he exclaimed
enthusiastically. “Taki’s speech spread among the crowd like a prairie
fire, and the whole town wanted to carry us around on their shoulders.
I saw O’Neil this morning and he said the populace manned the shafts of
their rikishas and insisted upon hauling them about town crying ‘banzai
America.’ Our sailors were loaded with presents, and were not allowed
to even show that they had money.”
“I am so glad.” Helen’s face was dimpled in smiles. “I’ve never seen
father so worried as when he read that account in the paper; he tried
to allay my fear by telling me that he thought it was simply a local
irritation, but I knew he thought otherwise.”
Suddenly her face clouded again.
“But why then these solemn faces when you arrived?” she asked
abruptly. “There must be something else!”
Phil’s boyish smile had also disappeared.
“Yes, there is something else,” he confessed, “and that’s what we came
to see your father about. I fear we have been placed in a very false
position, and all through my blunder.”
Helen’s womanly sympathies were aroused. “Go on,” she commanded
earnestly.
“I don’t know just how to tell you,” he began helplessly; “it’s all so
involved.” She nodded encouragingly. He was bending forward, his chin
resting in his hand.
“In the motor accident yesterday the man hurt was carrying an important
secret document belonging to the Japanese navy department. He lost
it. O’Neil and Marley, of whom you have heard me speak, were seen, by
some of the bystanders, to pick up a letter resembling the one lost,
but it was not the same. Last night I found this lost letter in a very
peculiar way. I put it in my pocket intending to think over what I
should do with it; but really my mind was made up to return it to its
owners, the Japanese. Then came the excitement in the theatre. After
that we went with Taki to the Maple Club, intending to make ourselves
presentable and return to the ball. The secret letter was in the inside
pocket of my coat.”
Phil stopped, and Helen saw that his face was drawn and worried.
“Taki had told me of the loss of this letter,” he continued, “and I had
promised him that if it came into my hands I would give it to him.”
Phil’s voice was self-accusing.
“And he saw the letter in your pocket!” she exclaimed excitedly.
Phil sighed. “It was worse than that. I lost the letter, or at least it
was probably taken out of my pocket.”
“Where? How on earth could that happen without your knowing it?”
Helen’s eyes were opened wide in surprise. “With your coat on and also
your cape?”
“I don’t know.” Phil’s answer was in the most dejected tone. “The whole
way in the motor to the club my hand was over my pocket. I was on the
point on two or three occasions of taking the letter out and giving
it to Taki then and there. My conscience hurt me terribly, for I had
given my solemn promise and I knew I was breaking it. I told myself I
was only waiting to frame a story, for I didn’t want to tell him then
how I had gained possession of it. When we arrived at the club, several
Japanese attendants took our capes and caps and we went to Taki’s rooms
to tidy up. As I took off my coat I felt in my pocket for the envelope,
intending to give it to him then. Taki had his back turned. I saw the
document was not there and what I had supposed was it was only a fold
in the lining of my coat.”
“What did you do?” Helen asked breathlessly.
“What could I do?” Phil asked hopelessly. “I was stupefied with
surprise. Then I thought he knew and was inwardly laughing at me and
instead of telling him of the loss, I became sullen and resentful.
Takishima’s face was as unconcerned as ever. I knew mine was red, for
my ears burned. He appeared to notice nothing unusual. Sydney seemed
to see that something was wrong and blurted out, ‘What’s wrong, Phil?’
and I mumbled something incoherently and felt myself becoming more
confused and mortified than ever.”
“Do you believe Takishima really took the letter?” Helen asked
anxiously. Her face showed the sympathy she felt.
“I’ve thought and thought,” Phil declared, “but I can’t make up my mind
what I do think. It may not have fallen into Japanese hands at all, and
if it has they will believe that I have broken my word in attempting to
keep it and read it, and I had no such intentions. The seal was broken,
so they will naturally believe that I am the guilty one.”
Phil’s head was bowed in his hands.
“I am so sorry,” Helen exclaimed compassionately. She realized that
nothing could comfort him.
“If I only knew what to do.” Phil’s tones were almost tearful. “If I
were man enough, I’d go to Taki and tell him the whole story, but I am
not. I haven’t the nerve to acknowledge that I didn’t play fair.”
“You shall not run yourself down that way, Phil,” she insisted
indignantly. His name escaped from her lips quite naturally, and to
the lad it was a soothing balm. “I don’t care what you did, you were
honest. You were going to give him the letter. How could you know that
it would be stolen?”
“I stole it from some one else.” Phil’s voice was almost a whisper. The
accompanying silence caused him to sit erect and look up quickly at
the girl beside him. She had recoiled, and there was an expression of
horror in her eyes.
“Stolen from some one else?” she breathed incredulously. “How could
you?”
Phil smiled at her earnestness, and Helen gave a sigh of relief.
“That wasn’t friendly!” she exclaimed in a hurt voice. “How can you
jest when you know how interested I am?”
“I took it from some one who had obtained it by force,” he explained
quickly. “Please do not ask me more, because that is all that I can now
tell.”
Helen was thoughtful, and just a shade reserved. That she was to be
excluded from some of the secret hurt just a little.
“Now if the letter was taken from me by either Taki or one of his
people, they will naturally think that I have had it right along,
and that I intended keeping it,” he said soberly. The lad’s voice was
gloomier than his words. “The best thing I can do is to go back to the
ship and stay there, and not show myself ashore until the ‘Alaska’
sails.”
“How absurd!” Helen cried indignantly. “You have done nothing wrong.
Why should you shoulder responsibility that does not belong to you? You
must go to Lieutenant Takishima. I am sure that he will believe you;
tell him everything, even the name of the person from whom you took the
letter.”
Phil shook his head.
“There’s the trouble. He would not believe me when I said that I
intended giving it up.”
Phil smiled bitterly as he rose to his feet. “It’s done me a lot of
good to tell you my troubles, anyway,” he said. “I don’t know how to
thank you.”
Helen’s thoughts had gone to the dreadful tropical island, miles away,
and she saw before her mind’s eye this mere boy who eight months ago
had gone cheerfully into the very jaws of death in the hopes of saving
another officer, and that officer her own brother. She knew that her
father regarded him with the affection of a father for a son, and as
Phil had been an orphan for many years, had talked openly to her of
making him a son in fact as well as in thought. Phil’s enthusiastic
letters from the Philippines had always fallen into her hands after
her father had read them, and she had kept them all. To her he was
“Phil,” and she desired nothing greater than that, conventionality
being brushed aside, they should speak as well as think of each other
by their first names.
Sydney suddenly returned and reported that Impey and Inaba were about
to leave, and were approaching.
Phil’s heart beat wildly at Sydney’s alarming news; he dreaded meeting
this inscrutable Japanese, whose eyes seemed to be able to read one’s
very thoughts. He had seen him but once at short range: in the navy
building after the messenger had been carried there; but he had taken
away with him the indelible impression of those far-seeing eyes.
Impey and Inaba were coming from down the hall, the ambassador with
them, and all three were strangely constrained and silent. Their way
led past the open door of the library. Phil realized that to avoid
a meeting was impossible. Helen was already in the doorway, and as
hostess her smile was being bestowed upon her father’s visitors. She
gave her hand to the naval officer, who bowed low over it, striking his
heels together in the military fashion; and then she bestowed a more
intimate smile upon Robert Impey.
“It was not polite of you,” she said to him in mock severity, “to stay
away from the ball last night after you had asked me for two dances.”
Impey blushed in confusion, murmuring that a sudden business call had
deprived him of the pleasure of dancing with her.
Helen made a sign of incredulity, and became suddenly aware that an
introduction was necessary.
“Captain Inaba, I thought you had met Mr. Perry and Mr. Monroe,” she
said apologizingly.
All three bowed, and Phil would have gladly welcomed an earthquake to
swallow him from sight.
“I owe you an apology, Mr. Perry,” Captain Inaba said in a low voice.
The others had walked to the far corner of the library leaving the two
alone together. “I was greatly disturbed when I last saw you, and am
afraid I was not courteous. I have since seen your great friend and
also mine, Lieutenant Takishima, and am sensible of the honor of having
your aid in this painful misunderstanding. The lost letter was a great
shock, but we hope to soon regain it.”
Phil dared not raise his guilty eyes. He felt Inaba’s searching gaze
upon him and knew that the red blush of shame which was then on his
cheeks was not lost on the subtle Japanese. Was Captain Inaba only
making sport of him? The letter was at that time doubtless in Captain
Inaba’s hands and, what was worse, he knew that it had been taken from
Phil’s pocket!
Phil believed that all eyes were upon him, for in his anxiety he had
not observed that the others had withdrawn. He felt utterly overcome
with mortification and considered seriously running precipitously
from the room. He cudgeled his brain for something, anything to say,
to relieve the tension of the situation. Then suddenly the apparent
cruelty of the accusing attitude of the naval officer maddened him. He
had not looked up, but he was sure that he was frowning upon him as the
betrayer of his friend.
“I hope you will find it, if you have not already,” Phil stammered
out, half in humility and half in anger; then he raised his eyes
and saw that Captain Inaba was bowing himself out of the room, his
parchment-like face as cold and forbidding as ever.
Impey remained behind, and Phil noticed that his manner was
constrained. He lingered but a few minutes talking to the ambassador
and Helen and then left the little group of Americans alone together.
The ambassador nodded to the two midshipmen to follow him and led
the way back to his office. Helen knew intuitively that she was not
included in the invitation, and with an impatient pout turned back into
the library.
Mr. Tillotson seated himself at his desk and signed to the two lads to
come near him. They saw that his face was pale, and that there were
lines under his eyes which showed plainly the mental strain of much
worry. When he spoke his voice was low and anxious.
“We are on the threshold of a national crisis,” he said, speaking with
his eyes on the floor. “No one can be believed. My government has
entrusted to me the duty of finding out the real intentions of Japan,
and I am beset with conflicting counsel on all sides. The Chinese
squadron is near Colombo, Ceylon, on its way to China. Our fleet is
between it and its destination, and we must know before it is too late
whether Japan will attempt to seize these vessels to reënforce her
navy, and if so whether her intentions are hostile. Mr. Impey has just
informed me that a paper has fallen into his hands which divulges the
secret that Japan has determined to buy or rather seize the ships.
China has not paid for them, and is too weak to resist the Japanese
fleet. If I could depend upon this I would cable Washington, and our
fleet is in a position to checkmate the move. Captain Inaba then comes
to see me with apologies from the Minister of Marine for last night’s
disturbance at the theatre. He praised our sailors highly, and said the
Emperor wished to commend our men for their loyalty and patriotism in
saving our flag from insult. What can one believe?”
The two midshipmen shook their heads in deep perplexity. This then
was what had been learned from the document which Phil had found only
to lose it. The midshipmen mutually decided that what they had come
to tell the ambassador would better for the present remain unsaid.
To convince him that Impey was a double-faced scoundrel after this
unsought confidence might be difficult. That must wait a more opportune
time.