His acquaintance with the secretary was of long standing. It had commenced at a private school in Tokio, which both Grant and the Japanese had attended in earlier days. The boyish friendship had survived the passing of time—that greatest strain upon youthful ties—and when the native gained his present position in the war office, he remembered the Mannings.
The greeting was cordial, and an adjournment was made to a private room in the chaya or tea house. There the friends talked at length over matters in general, and Grant was given many valuable hints concerning the army contract.
It was past eight o'clock when the conference ended. With mutual sayonaras, or parting salutations, they separated at the door, and Grant entered his waiting jinrikisha. Before the man could start the vehicle a Japanese boy ran up, and with much bobbing of his quaint little head, begged the favor of a word with the excellency.
"What is it, my lad?" asked the lame youth, kindly.
Between sobs and ready tears the boy explained that he was the son of one Go-Daigo, a former porter in the warehouse under the régime of the elder Manning. He was now ill of a fever, penniless, and in dire misfortune. Would the excellency condescend to visit him at his house in a street hard by the Shinto temple?
"I am very sorry to hear of Go's misfortune," replied Grant, with characteristic sympathy, "but wouldn't it answer the purpose if you take this money," producing several yen, "and purchase food for him? To-morrow you can call at the office and I'll see what I can do for him."
The excellency's kindness was of the quality called "first-chop," but the bedridden Go-Daigo was also suffering from remorse. He feared that he would die, and he did not care to leave the world with a sin-burdened soul. He knew a secret of value to the new firm. Would the excellency call at once?
"A secret concerning the new firm?" echoed Grant, his thoughts instantly reverting to the Englishman and his son. "It may be something of importance. Lead the way, child; I will follow."
Ten minutes' travel through crooked streets brought the 'rikisha to a typical native house a hundred yards from a large, red-tiled temple. The youthful guide led the way to the door and opened it; then he vanished through an alley between the buildings.
Grant passed on in, finding himself in an apartment unfurnished save by a matting and several cheap rugs. A dim light burning in one corner showed that the room was unoccupied. An opening screened by a gaudy bead curtain pierced the farther partition.