I sprang down from my ’rickshaw.
“I’ll soon settle that point,” I cried, “I will crush through the boundary hedge, and break in the door of the house. If there are any ladies within they will soon make an outcry, which will reveal their presence. You wait for me here.”
To this he at once agreed, and with some difficulty I got into the thick plantation, through which I made my way until I came to the house, the first look at which convinced me it was empty. There is something of desolate loneliness about a deserted house which instantly strikes a beholder.
There was no need for me to break in, for one of the windows was open, and, tip-toeing up on the broad veranda, so that there would be no chance of the custodian hearing me, I entered a room through this window, and the whole silent house was at my disposal.
The interior would have struck a European unacquainted with Japan as being unfurnished, but I saw that it remained just as the Countess had left it. On a small table, standing about a foot from the floor, I saw a note similar to the one that had been handed to me when I first inquired at the gate, also three long slips of Japanese paper on which were written instructions in the Japanese language. I read them with amazement. The first said:
“This letter is to be given to a young man who calls, and who speaks Japanese and English.”
On the next slip:
“This letter is to be given to an old man who speaks nothing but English.”
The third slip bore:
“This is to be given to a young woman who speaks nothing but English.”