“From the Tycoon to the Prince of Owari,” he murmured.
I kowtowed. “Humble thanks are offered for the gift of the august ruler!—Let the wine be heated.”
“It is the wish of His Highness that the Prince test the flavor of the sake both cold and hot,” replied the chamberlain, as he handed the flask to an attendant.
I bowed assent. “The will of His Highness is the pleasure—”
“Stay, my lord!” called a voice in the entrance. “Cold sake is not always wholesome.”
At the first word I had glanced down the room and perceived Yuki standing erect on the threshold. The attendants stared about at him, no less astonished than myself. His dress was disarranged, and his look so strange that at first I thought he had been over-drinking. Fujimaro spoke to him warningly, and he sank down to kowtow. No drunken man could have saluted in such manner. The truth flashed upon me.
“Approach,” I commanded. “You bring a message?”
He sprang up, with a sharp exclamation: “Look! The fox has gone!”
I looked about, and saw that Gengo had disappeared. In the moment’s pause when all eyes were fixed upon the kneeling Yuki, the chamberlain had glided to the side wall and slipped out. Yuki came swiftly up the room through the midst of the palace attendants, and pointed to the man with the flask of sake.
“Do not open the flask!” he commanded, and he knelt to offer me a tattered, crumpled scroll. “The geisha, my lord—To the Shogun! Demand that Gengo drink this sake!”