Unhesitatingly Ashton-Kirk followed him up the stairs and along a hall upon the second floor. A door at the rear stood open, and at a round table, under a powerful light, sat Okiu. At sight of the visitor this latter arose, a welcoming smile upon his placid face.
"Sir," said he, "you are too good. I am delighted beyond measure."
Ashton-Kirk shook the outheld hand.
"I am pleased to be asked here," said he. "I could have hoped for nothing that would have agreed so well with my inclinations."
The heavy lids partially veiled the black searching eyes of the Japanese; but the bland, childlike face was as expressionless as before.
"You are polite," smiled Okiu, still shaking the secret agent's hand. "But I knew you would be so. All persons of real parts are kind and ready to place the stranger at his ease."
Then turning to the other Japanese, who remained waiting in the doorway, he added:
"Sorakicha, give the gentleman a chair."
With rapid, soft, tiger-like steps, Sorakicha advanced; lifting a high-backed chair he placed it at the side of the table opposite where Okiu had been sitting. And when the secret agent walked around the table he came face to face with the man as he was about to leave the room.
"Sorakicha," said Ashton-Kirk, "I think you have been a wrestler."