“But I wish to repeat that your highness promised—”
“Listen. If you remain here, your life will not be safe. Do not further protest. I will say this, that if your lordship does not care to follow my suggestion, I shall be forced to eject you or allow my officers to deal with you.”
Toro shrugged angry shoulders, a gesture to Keiki reminiscent of his mother. The action displeased him. Sharply he clapped his hands. To the officers answering his summons he said, briefly:
“Be good enough to have my Lord of Catzu taken to Catzu under such escort as he may require.” To Toro he bowed perfunctorily: “Good-day, my lord.”
The preparations and activities of the past few months had brought all within the domination of Keiki to active readiness for war. Keiki himself was now of greater value to his cause, since old Satsuma had taught him all he knew—the result of years of European study and reading—of the making of the munitions of war. The lingering disease which threatened Satsuma need carry no fear to the Imperialists. Keiki, the disciple and heir in knowledge to Satsuma, could well cope with any man in the world in the utilization of the war resources at his hand.
Only a pretext, a happening that should afford the opening wedge for war, was wanting to the Imperialists. The public mind must be quieted by the outbreak of hostilities as the logical outcome of some event, not as a sudden, uncaused outburst.
It was during these days of waiting that the old Lord Satsuma sought Keiki out in the interior of the fortress. There was an evident perturbation and embarrassment manifest in his bearing. Keiki, alarmed lest some accident should have endangered one of the projects of the labor of years, started upon sight of his hereditary friend.
“My Lord Satsuma, is it ill with you?” he inquired with solicitude.
He noted that the face of Satsuma showed as never before that its master would never live to see the Restoration. This thought saddened him.
Satsuma, though in some pain, smiled gently.