Verley was shown into the guest chamber. Shortly came Okido to the room, fat and oily, discreetly wiping the rice crumbs from his thick lips with the back of his hands. He was bowing grotesquely at every step as he came toward the minister, but when he finally lifted his head and saw who his guest was, he gave such a startled jump that he fell in a heap on the floor, and there he remained, trembling with fright. Instantly Verley was convinced that the man knew all about his wife, her whereabouts, the horrible fate that must have befallen her.
“My wife! You know her whereabouts?”
“Your wife!” stammered the cringing Okido. “What was her august name, Excellency?”
“You know it. Answer at once.”
“Excellency is honorably mistaken. I do not know the name of the exalted one’s wife.”
Verley, with no effort at gentleness, seized him by the shoulder of his robe, and as he spoke shook the trembling wretch threateningly.
“You will answer my question. Understand.”
The Nakoda began to whimper, drawing his sleeve across his eyes and furtively looking about for a means of escape.
He was poor man, very poor, harmless man. Surely Excellency would not hurt him.
“Quick. I am waiting.”