On my arrival at the hotel I showed the note to Hilda, who averred there could be no doubt about its genuineness, and she asked my permission to give it to Mr. Hemster to allay his rapidly arising anxiety, which mission it certainly performed as completely as it had snubbed me.
Next day the yacht was floated and appeared none the worse for the collision. The captain took her out to the anchorage, and so we waited several days to hear from the girl, but no word came. Finally her father wrote a letter to her, beseeching some indication of her plans, and this was sent by messenger to the House of the Million Blossoms. The old gentleman had become exceedingly tired of Nagasaki, and very evidently did not know what to do with himself. The messenger returned, but brought no answer. He said the man at the gate had taken in the letter, and brought out the verbal message that the lady would write when she was ready to do so. This was the reverse of satisfactory, and Mr. Hemster roamed about disconsolately like a lost spirit. Hilda said he told her that his daughter had never before remained in the same mind for two days together, and this prolonged country house visit caused him great uneasiness. He now became infused with the kidnapping idea, not fearing that she had been taken away to Corea, but believing that the Japanese were holding her prisoner, perhaps with the idea of a ransom later on. Finally Mr. Hemster determined to visit the House of the Million Blossoms himself, and he insisted on Hilda’s accompanying us, which she did with some reluctance. Never did she believe that this was other than one of the girl’s prolonged caprices to make us all anxious, hoping to laugh at us later on for being so.
At the gateway we were met by the same imperturbable guardian, who was as obdurate as ever. He would take in any message, he said, but would not permit us to enter even the grounds. Mr. Hemster sent a letter he had written at the hotel, and in due time the keeper came out with a signed note, somewhat similar to the one I had received. It said:
“Dear Father:
“Do not worry about me; I am perfectly happy and wish to remain here a few days longer.
“Your affectionate daughter,
“G.”
After reading this he passed it on to Hilda and me in silence. He got into his ’rickshaw without a word, and we entered ours. The men tottered along until we were out of sight of the lodge, and then Mr. Hemster called a halt. He sprang out, and, approaching me, said:
“Well, Tremorne, what do you make of it?”
The voice in which his question was put quivered with anguish, and, glancing at his face, I saw it drawn and haggard with an expression that betokened terror.
“Oh, there’s nothing to make of it, Mr. Hemster, except that the young lady, for some reason unknown to me, desires to make you anxious and has succeeded.”
“Tremorne,” he said, unheeding this attempted consolation, “look at this note. It was not written to-day, but weeks ago. It was written on board the yacht, and so was the one you received, although I did not notice that at the time. This was written with a stub pen, the same that she used in sending me the first letter; but this pen she did not take away with her, nor the ink. My poor girl has been deluded into writing those letters by some one who had a subtle end to serve. I cannot fathom the mystery, but I am certain she is not in that house.”