“Oh, there’s not much to tell. I was in bed nearly all yesterday with a headache, and George went off for a walk in the afternoon; said he was going to call on you. I told him you had gone to Nagoya.”
“Arita.”
“It’s all the same—then he went out, I don’t know where, and that is the last I’ve seen of him. At nine yesterday evening they brought me a note saying he had gone to Osaka, and to follow with our luggage.”
Leslie whistled.
“What are you whistling about?”
“Osaka! Why, that’s over three hundred miles away!”
“Where is it?”
“On the Inland Sea.”
“Where’s that?”
“Oh, it runs from here up to—well, practically to Osaka. At least, it doesn’t exactly reach from here, you have to go through the Straits of Tsu-shima.”