A group formed about him.
“What do you know of them?” pressed one.
“Tell us all,” said another.
The samurai shifted one of the swords.
“Of a certainty I’ll tell you all.”
“Yes?”
“Of a truth they have come,” he answered, as with a movement of disclaimer he passed up the street.
In the story-tellers’ halls the reciter was besieged with requests for stories and information concerning the Americans. In some cases he frankly avowed his ignorance, and in others regaled his hearers with the weirdest tales of a resourceful imagination.
Witnessing incidents of this kind upon every side, Keiki continued on his way to the palace. Of one thing he was now fully assured. Whatever policy for the future might be decided on by him and his associates could not be put into immediate effect. The popular impulse, the popular mind was dazed, and was not ready for action. Meanwhile he would learn all he could of the intentions of both foreigners and Shogun.
Keiki was now quite near the palace of the Shogun. His cloak he threw carelessly about him in such wise that while his uniform was exposed his features were muffled. The gate before which stood the samurai on guard at the outer post was open. Without a word Keiki strode haughtily past the guards. They gave no challenge.