But Kent had come up to him and was shaking him, laughing nervously after the fashion of one who has passed into the trembling relief of reaction after excitation of nervous strain. "Oh, Karsten-san, you big damn fool, with your pride of intellect and finesse of reasoning and all that; how much better it would have been for you if you had only reacted as would have a sailor, or a butcher, or a coal-heaver, if you had jumped in and had had it out on the spot. Now listen. I have the whole explanation. I can show you what an absurd, blundering fool you have been all these years—and I myself, here I've been going about with the key to the whole story, and I have seen how it was between Jun-san and you, and still I've never had the sense to tell you. What fools we are, all of us. Now listen——
"On that night, the night all this happened, Mortimer had been to a cinema show, had he not?"
"I suppose so. As a matter of fact, he had; but what of that?" Karsten had caught the infection of excitement, suspense at impending revealment. His fingers were drumming on the table. "Don't sit there as if you were about to drag a rabbit out of a hat. Get down to essentials."
"Easy. That is essential. It all hinges on that. Mortimer had been to see one of those American films that had been censored by the police. He told me about it, after he had returned to San Francisco and was telling me about Japan. He thought it amusing, that just as the picture reached the climax, the point where the heroine, whoever she may have been, fell into the arms of the hero, there came a blur, and, presto, they were again six feet apart. The censor had cut out the kissing scene. As I say, he thought it intensely funny, the idea of an entire nation being kept from knowledge of kissing by a censor. And it worked, he told me. 'They really don't know what kissing is,' he said. For the idea had intrigued him. He had wondered; and when he came home and he happened to be telling about it to a pretty servant—that's what threw me off, his speaking of Jun-san as a servant; though, of course, I see now that that's how he must naturally have looked upon her——"
"For the good Lord's sake, man, don't babble so," the rat-tat-tat of Karsten's fingers seemed to crackle and snap like electricity. "Get to the point."
"I am. Keep quiet. Let me think, won't you? So it occurred to him that here was a chance where he might find out for himself, experiment. Nothing to get excited about, Karsten. We've both done as much. So he kept coming closer to her; just mischief, you know. It was plain she suspected nothing of the kind, he told me. He got his arm about her neck. She didn't move. She was utterly astounded, struck aghast, transfixed in surprise. And then, when she did move, as he brought his lips close to her mouth, she didn't struggle, she didn't cuff his ears after Western fashion. She just placed her hands on his wrists and looked at him. It must have been impressive. He told me that he felt a greater sense of rebuff, of being ashamed of himself, than if she had struck him. And that's how he left her. That was all that happened. And here you've let that woman suffer for years, Karsten, and I never had the sense to——"
But Karsten had strode past him, was not listening. He flung open the sliding door at the head of the stairway. "Jun-san," he was calling down into the dimness below. "Jun-san, come, come here right away."
In her haste even the softness of her zori made a clatter on the stairs. She entered, breathless, wide-eyed in anxiety at the sudden call, stood astounded, staring at Karsten who was standing—arms stretched towards her.
Kent edged towards the door. They paid no attention to him. She was still standing there, trembling, lips parted, unable to believe. Now he had almost gained the door. It seemed unreal, like a theatrical situation, these two, in their trembling intensity.