“I saw my countryman slip his hand in one of your pockets, sir,” continued the stranger, addressing Katura. “He took out some small object—a lacquer box, I should say, but I cannot be sure.”
“It was a lacquer box!” cried Katura, a fierce light leaping to his eyes, while his face, first paling, next turned to a deep red hue. “It is a lacquer box that I have just missed.”
“And Mr. Darrin remarked that he felt much tempted to steal it,” broke in Lieutenant Hata.
“Be still, Hata, please,” begged Katura, recovering his own dignity. “Mr. Darrin is an American officer and a gentleman, not a thief!”
“I trust I haven’t intruded, and that I haven’t made any trouble,” the stranger went on, hastily, “but you appeared to me to be in so much trouble that, as a gentleman, I felt I must speak to you.”
“And I thank you from the bottom of my heart, sir!” cried Katura, his eyes once more gleaming fiercely, despite the gentleness of his words.
“It was probably all a joke,” the stranger smiled, “but I am glad if I have been able to save you from any anguish of mind. Of course you will see my countryman—Barron, did you say his name is? I know that I may rely upon you all not to bring me into the matter.”
“You may depend upon us for the courtesy that is due to one gentleman from others,” promised Lieutenant Toruma.
Then, as their informant left them, the three Japanese held swift, sorrowful conference.
“Of course we must go to the hotel at once and see Mr. Darrin,” proposed Toruma.