“I could take them with me to the physician’s house.”
“Very well. You will wait here for me until I return?”
Inouye bowed assent. Dinner was ordered and brought up; after it was eaten, the two left the house, barefooted and in simple cotton kimono. They went together as far as the Tokaido, where Inouye pointed out the physician’s residence. Kano noticed it closely. They then parted, Inouye turning to the left to visit the stores, while Kano descended to the causeway, and followed it toward Yokohama.
It was six o’clock before he returned. Inouye had noticed that Kano had avoided asking for particulars. He, as younger in years, and less high in rank, would have committed a severe breach of good breeding amounting to a crime, if he had asked a question except in explanation. The same ceremonious salutations took place, and supper was ordered. After it was over, Kano said:
“We are now about to part. I am to begin to work to-morrow as a ninzoku.[54] I have been engaged by a fellow, a Japanese, who will have a taste of the lash before I am entirely through with him.” The false smile and suppressed emotion with which this was hissed out between his lips, proved how pitilessly in earnest he was. “But we shall reserve our observations for a month from now. We meet every fifth day, as we agreed yesterday. Here are my swords,” saluting reverently as he handed them to his companion, who received them with marks of even greater reverence.
Inouye concealed the swords, with his own, among his clothes. He then took the bundle to the door. Here he turned round, and prostrating himself, bent his head three times upon his outstretched hands. Then, rising, he bowed once more, drawing in his breath. Kano replied in the same manner. Not another word was said, and Inouye carried his bundle to the scene of a new life.
Kano remained alone, deeply buried in thought. Not the slightest token of emotion was visible, yet the man was terribly wroth. His long-practised self control enabled him to conceal the passion he felt by that stolid look of contemplation which completely veils the thoughts. He sat motionless, regardless of the time, mechanically answering the servant who arranged the comforters for his couch. The streets were silent, the yadoya had closed up for the night, and still Kano was sitting there motionless as a statue. Midnight was past, when he felt for his tobacco pouch. Stirring up the few sparks in the hibachi with the chopstick-like brass tongs, he took a few whiffs at his pipe, and then, confident that he had schooled himself for the coming ordeal, he lay down upon his couch.