“We shall do ourselves the honor to see Mr. Darrin soon after he returns,” replied Lieutenant Toruma sweetly, in a voice in which there was no suspicion of menace.
“Who asks for me, gentlemen?” hailed a merry voice, as Ensign Dave Darrin rounded a turn in the corridor, and came upon the party. “Toruma? Katura? Hata? This is a pleasure.”
“We shall go to the main parlor below,” said Toruma courteously, taking the hand that Dave extended, as did the others. “May we hope to see you there, sir, at your own convenience?”
“I will be down inside of five minutes,” Dave promised lightly, and the Japanese bowed themselves away.
Unconsciously Belle had thrown behind her the hand that held the lacquer box. For that reason Dave did not see it until he had stepped inside and had closed the door after him.
Then, of a sudden, young Mrs. Darrin remembered her surprise, and held forward the box in such a way as to display the medallion lying in it.
“I have something strange, Dave dear, to tell you about this,” she announced.
With an astonished cry Dave caught up the box.
“Why it is—it must be—the heirloom that Katura showed me at the American Club this morning,” he uttered.
“Mr. Katura’s?” echoed Belle.