He gave the paper to the ambassador, who read it, asked no questions, and presumably cabled its substance to Washington. For the next day Topham received orders to leave for Washington on the next steamer.
Loud was Stiles’ disgust. “I might have known it,” he cried. “It’s just like those fellows! They’ve got about half the navy in Washington already, and want more of it.”
“I think they want me for a special reason,” suggested Topham.
“Oh! I suppose so. Devilish queer about that countess, isn’t it. I wonder what she really was up to!”
Topham looked the secretary in the eye. “Really! if you don’t mind, I would rather not discuss her,” he observed gently.
“Oh! no offense! Say, look here, Topham. Your going is lucky in one sense, because you can do something for me—and for the government—on your way. Do you remember that Jap colonel—Hakodate his name was—whom you met here the day after your arrival?”
“Yes! I think so.”
“Would you know him again?”
“I might. I’m not certain! Why?”
“Well! I told you we had native spies. One of them brought in word this morning that Colonel Hakodate sailed a week ago for San Francisco as an immigrant and that he carried letters to one Hiroshina, who keeps a Jap restaurant on Market Street near Kearny. Of course the man may be lying and of course you may say that there’s nothing in it even if he’s telling the truth. But it looks dashed funny to me, and I wish you’d just drop in at that restaurant when you get to San Francisco, and snoop around a bit. See if you can spot Hakodate there, and see what he’s up to.”