The Tojin-san remained for a moment apparently plunged in puzzled thought. Suddenly he turned toward his interpreter, who was regarding him with popping eyes of interest. Indeed no move, no word, no action of the white man escaped the notice of Genji Negato, who found him an object of absorbing interest and wonder. His manner of eating, his manner of sleeping, his manner of thinking, talking—all things about him, were a source of wonder and entertainment to the young samourai, who was more than satisfied with this interesting position he had obtained.
“Genji,” now said the Tojin-san abruptly, “you have seen something of the world. At all events you have lived in the open ports among people of other lands. You speak English excellently and must have read considerably. Tell me what is your opinion of this fox-woman?”
Genji Negato was all flattered smiles. He drew up his well-groomed shoulders in a profound French shrug.
“It would give me supreme pleasure to agree with your excellency,” he said ambiguously, and smiled apologetically.
“I see,” said the Tojin-san, “you, too! Why?”
The stiff expression on the interpreter’s face relaxed. In a blurt of confidence he said:
“I have felt the fox-woman’s touch also, honored sir,” and blushed like a boy at the admission.
The Tojin-san was smiling broadly.
“Ah! When?”
“The first night in your service, excellency—a month before your coming.”