“Mito,” repeated Kennedy, as though the Japanese suggested merely by his name a theory on which his mind was working.
There seemed to be nothing that could be done just now but to wait, and we decided to take the opportunity to get a late dinner. Winifred Walcott and Mrs. Maddox had already dined, but Frances Walcott and her husband were at their table. They seemed to be hurrying to finish and we did the same—not because they did, but because we had work to do.
Dinner over, Hastings excused himself from us, saying that he had some letters to write, and Kennedy made no objection. I think he was rather pleased than otherwise to have the opportunity to get away.
Outside we met Riley again, this time with one of his operatives.
“What’s the matter?” inquired Kennedy.
“Matter enough,” returned Riley, much exercised. “You know I told you that Shelby had come ashore from the Sybarite with Mito? Well, we’ve been following them both pretty closely. I think I told you of his sending a note to Paquita. Both Shelby and Mito have been acting suspiciously. I had this man detailed to watch Shelby. That confounded Jap is always in the way, though. Tell Mr. Kennedy what happened,” he directed.
The operative rubbed his back ruefully. “I was following Mr. Maddox down to the beach,” he began. “It was rather dark and I tried to keep in the shadow. Mr. Maddox never would have known that he was being followed. All of a sudden, from behind, comes that Jap. Before I knew it he had me—like this.”
The man illustrated his remark by lunging forward at Kennedy and seizing both his hands. He stuck his crooked knee upward and started to fall back, just catching himself before he quite lost his balance.
“Over he went backwards, like a tumbler,” went on the man, “threw me clean over his head. If it had been on a stone walk or there had been a wall there, it would have broken my head.”
“Jiu-jitsu!” exclaimed Kennedy.