"You ask me lightly," he replied, "but, if you are willing, I have decided to take you into my confidence. Our friend Nikasti will be here to-morrow. He was to have sailed for Japan yesterday, but he has postponed his voyage for a few days. Do you know much about the Japanese, Miss Pamela?"
"Very little," she acknowledged.
"Well, I will tell you one thing. They are not very good at forgiving. There was only one way I could deal with Nikasti in New York, and it was a brutal way. I have seen him twice since. He wouldn't look me in the eyes. I know what that means. He hates me. In a sense I don't believe he would allow that to interfere in any way with his mission. In another sense it would. The Allies, above all things, have need of Japan. We want Japan and America to be friends. We don't want Germany butting in between the two. Baron Yung is a very clever man, but he is even more impenetrable than his countrymen generally are. Our people here admit that they find it difficult to progress with him very far. They believe that secretly he is in sympathy with Nikasti's reports— but you don't know about those, I suppose?"
"I don't think I do," she admitted.
"Nikasti was sent to England some years ago to report upon us as a country. Japan at that time was meditating an alliance with one of the great European Powers. Obviously it must be Germany or England. Nikasti travelled all through England, studied our social life, measured our weaknesses; did the same through Germany, returned to Japan, and gave his vote in favour of Germany. I have even seen a copy of his report. He laid great stress upon the absolute devotion to sport of our young men, and the entire absence of any patriotic sentiment or any means of national defence. Well, as you know, for various reasons his counsels were over-ridden, and Japan chose the British alliance. That was entirely the fault of imperfect German diplomacy. At a time like this, though, I cannot help thinking that some elements of his former distrust still remain in Nikasti's mind, and I have an idea that Baron Yung is, to a certain extent, a sympathiser. I've got to get at the bottom of this before I leave the States. If I need your help, will you give it me?"
"If I can," she promised.
They saw Mrs. Hastings' figure on the terrace, waving, and Pamela rose reluctantly to her feet.
"I don't suppose," Lutchester continued, as they strolled across the lawn, "that you have very much influence with your uncle, or that he would listen very much to anything that you have to say, but if he is really in earnest about this thing, he is going to play a terribly dangerous game. As things are at present, he has a very pleasant and responsible position as the supporter and friend of very able men. With regard to this new movement, he may find the whole ground crumble away beneath his feet. Fischer is playing the game of a madman. It isn't only political defeat that might come to him, but disgrace—even dishonour."
"You frighten me," Pamela confessed gravely.
Lutchester sighed.