“Thou liest! Thou knowest there is but one true ruler in Japan, the Mikado!” he shouted, in a voice that, rapidly ascending in pitch, became femininely shrill.
Every eye in the assembly, foreign and Japanese, turned upon the slight, quivering figure there by the breeze-swept opening. The Lord of Catzu, still upon his feet, stood like a sable statue, his arm still held aloft in the concluding gesture he had used a moment before. The Prince of Aidzu remained in his chair, seemingly incapable of motion. The American Perry alone preserved his composure, looking from one to the other in a puzzled effort to determine the meaning of this interruption.
The silence within the hall deepened as the startled gaze of the assemblage continued fixed upon Jiro. So still was it that the voices of the samurai outside seemed annoyingly loud, as they floated into the quiet apartment.
There was a long moment of this stunned, bewildered, yet intense stillness. It was broken by Toro, who, ashamed of having been outdone in daring by his slighter companion, threw himself convulsively into the focus of the company.
“Thou, my Lord of Catzu,” he shouted—“thou knowest that the youth speaks truth. Banzai the Mikado! Banzai Nippon!”
Another sensational moment! The samurai Genji had placed himself nearer to the two.
The Lord of Catzu broke the spell of wonderment. As he frowned penetratingly upon Toro and Jiro, his face cleared in sudden recognition of his son. He raised his arm in imperative signal to the samurai.
“Eject for me these fanatics,” he cried, “and guard them closely.”
Instantly the gigantic Genji, leaping through the opening, laid a heavy hand upon the shoulder of the youth. Back to the opening he drew them.
“They are in my custody, my lord,” he answered.