“By order of the bakufu (shogunate). Yes, I am aware of the fact.”
“Very well. I am the executioner!”
“You!”
“It was I who caused your arrest, and afterwards brought you hither with the intention of executing you.”
A flood of horrible thoughts rushed across the Prince’s mind, bewildering him. As if to press them back, he clasped his hands to his head. Shimadzu continued in his cold and monotonous voice:
“After your arrest, it was brought to my attention that a more subtle revenge against your parent could be gained by marrying you into that very class of people so despised by your father, and forcing you to become guilty of the same offence for which I was exiled.”
Stirred as he now was, Keiki’s faith in Wistaria still remained unshaken. That her father had had a hand in betraying him he was assured, but he could not yet recognize in the deed the delicate hand of the woman he loved.
“Through the agency of my daughter,” went on the samurai, “I was soon able to learn sufficient concerning the workings of the Imperialist party of which you are the head—”
“The Imperialist party!” repeated the Prince, and he bounded towards the samurai with the cry of a wounded animal. His hand sprang to his hip, where his sword had been restored to its sheath.
“You—you!” he shouted. “It was you who betrayed me—who—”