“Ah, excellencies,” she cried, turning to the visitors and speaking in broken English, “the liddle one’s heart broke at thought of leaving her home. She is still but a child, and she had a child’s fear of meeting—of meeting strangers, and so—and so—she went, excellencies, she—”
“Ran away,” said the woman. “Well, what do you think of that?” She turned her lip ever so slightly, pushing the point of her parasol into Aoi’s immaculate matting. “Runs in the family, apparently,” she said.
Ignoring her utterly, Mr. Lorrimer addressed Aoi in a hoarse voice:
“When did she go, and where? You must know.”
“She went, illustrious excellency, only a little while ago.”
“Where? You know?”
“Nay, I do not know, save that she has gone to the hills. But, oh, excellency, there are so many hills, so large, so dense! Can we find the one ant by searching in its hill? Who can find the little one among the monstrous hills?”
“I can,” said Komazawa, stepping forward suddenly.
Aoi rushed to him frantically.
“Oh, son,” she cried, in Japanese, “do not assist these strangers. Do not track the little one to give her to them. You will not take part with them against us?”