“Tomo, you will help me?”
“I will help.” He waved back my outstretched hand. “They come.”
Fujimaro opened a screen for Kohana San to enter, and, at a sign from me, withdrew. The geisha had not paused to cast off her hood and gray street kimono. Panting from haste and fear, she glided across to us on her knees, her unsmiling face pallid beneath its rouge and rice powder.
“My lord,” she gasped, “Mito strikes! The Council, unknown to His Highness—”
“Midzuano has ordered our arrest,” stated Yoritomo.
“I have had no calls to Mito yashiki. A delayed message came from the ronin Yuki, who was captain of the hatamotos—Keiki sought to bribe him against us. He pretended to agree—”
Yoritomo twisted about to my tokonoma and opened the lacquered case in which I kept my revolvers and ammunition. He thrust one of the revolvers into his bosom, and gave me the other.
“We must stand before the judges without our swords,” he said. “That is due the dignity of the court. But we cannot tell how far Keiki and Midzuano may induce them to proceed. It is better to die quickly than under torture.”
“And take Midzuano and Keiki with us,” I added.
“If it comes to the point, and they are present.” He turned to Kohana San. “You have been followed?—seen to enter?”