CHAPTER III
Kent's office was in the rear of a building in the Shimbashi section, a corner room facing two sides on narrow alleys, neither more than four feet wide. His landlord, Nishimura, whose International Agency occupied the front, was holding forth volubly. He would talk inexhaustibly about his life, his affairs and, principally, about his manifold abilities, in English, for he had lived for years in the United States.
As he talked, Kittrick came in. Kent had known him years ago, in the San Francisco Press Club, before he had gone to Japan for the Universal Syndicate. He hoped that his arrival would put an end to Nishimura's talk, but the Japanese only waved a greeting to Kittrick—evidently he knew him. He bubbled on.
"I am very pleased that I can always help you, in anything, everything. If you want anything, ask Nishimura. I can get you access to all the big men, the ministers of state, the politicians, the big business men, everybody. I can get you anything, an interview, a clerk, invitations to the official functions, a streetcar pass, a sweetheart," he leered suggestively. "You have a unique advantage of situation, Mr. Kent, between knowledge," he pointed towards the region of the International Agency, "and pleasure," he waved his hand generally in the direction of the walls and paper-covered shoji appearing, familiarly close, through the office windows.
"It is a select neighborhood, Mr. Kent. The heart of the most refined geisha quarter, hidden, so discreetly, don't you think, behind our respectability, yours and mine. There, you see, is the Akebono machiai, one of the most famous waiting houses, where you may feast with geisha." He pointed across one of the alleys where the shojis had been drawn aside, the wide window opening displaying a large, immaculately clean room, furnished with the constraint usual in Japan, with only a low table and some silk cushions, a kakemono, hanging silk scroll picture, in the tokonoma recess. "A very quiet place usually in the day," he explained. "But at night, ah, what scenes of revelry, with happy guests disporting themselves with sake wine and the pretty geisha." He sighed and threw wide his arms, as would he, ravished, press to his breast one of the beauties of his imagination. "You shall see, Mr. Kent, even here," now he was pointing through the window in the other wall to a smaller house. The closed, opaque paper shoji, bamboo barred, were almost within arm's length. From beyond it came the strident whimper of samisen strings. "That is O-Toshi-san," he explained confidentially, impressively, "the famous O-Toshi-san. You shall see her often, there in her window; but, Mr. Kent, do not lose your heart there. No, don't," he became even more confidential, suggestively smiling. "She belongs to Mr. Kato, the police commissioner. He paid big makura-kin, pillow-money, oh, so big, I hear——"
A clerk entered and whispered to Nishimura. "I am so sorry," said the landlord. "My affairs. I must go, but I shall come and see you often. Good morning."
It was a relief. His chatter had filled the room, monopolized the situation. "I have certainly fallen into a queer neighborhood," said Kent. "I shall apparently have a liberal and inexpensive education in geisha matters. What did he mean by pillow-money, anyway?"