"Then you are thieves!" exclaimed Loo.
"What's that?" said the sailor, snatching a paper carefully hidden under the robe of one of the strangers.
"As we can't escape, we may as well own the truth; we are messengers," said one man, dropping his stupid look. "That is a letter written to Hieyas by General Attiska."
"Very good," said Raiden, handing the letter to Nagato.
"If you really serve the same master as we," said the other messenger, "do not keep us any longer; let us finish our errand."
"When it stops raining," said Loo.
The Prince opened the little paper bag closed at one end with rice paste, and took out the letter. It read as follows:—
"General Attiska falls prostrate before the illustrious and all-powerful Minamoto Hieyas. Happy days are followed by wretched days; and I have the shame and sorrow to announce a disaster. The tunnel scheme, so carefully elaborated by your lofty intellect, was carried out. With vast pains, thousands of soldiers, working night and day, finally finished the work; we were sure of success. But Marisiten, the God of Battles, was cruel to us. By I know not what treachery, Yoke-Moura was forewarned; and I scarcely dare confess to you that five thousand heroes met their death in the narrow passage which we dug, while the enemy lost not a single man. We have regained the position in the village lost for a time. Nothing therefore is yet compromised, and I hope soon to be able to send you the news of a brilliant victory.
"Written beneath the walls of Osaka, this fifth day of the seventh moon, in the first year of the Shogun Fide-Tadda."
"A fine piece of news indeed, my friends!" said the Prince, who read the letter aloud; "and I will take it to Hieyas myself. I am anxious to enter his camp—to insinuate myself into his very tent."
"Then you are not friends of Hieyas, as you said?" asked one of the messengers.