"My dear sir, my most valuable friend," began Ronsard, in his oiliest manner, "you tear my heartstrings with the implied doubt. Your honor is not to be questioned. Yet I would be glad to know just where you intend to remain this fateful afternoon." The contrast between his tone and the relief in his fat face were too much for Todd. He threw back his head to laugh. Pierre, already dragged far out in an undertow of sleep, did not turn, but Ronsard glanced up suspiciously. His half-buried eyes had a tinge of red.
"It's just this way, Count," said the other, easily. "I know what is in this little billet,—you don't. I assure you that the price is not big enough by half for the promised reward. Yet if it were a thousand times bigger, and if I dreaded and disapproved of the whole business ten thousand times more than I do, yet, having given my word to Prince Haganè and Yuki, and having accepted the—er—shall I call it confidence?—of you and Le Beau, I should keep strictly both to the letter and the spirit of my bargain. I can't imagine, to be frank, the inner workings of a man who could do anything else. I am an American. I have been a senator, and I now represent my Government in a land which fills me with the most intense admiration. Does that put any lubricator on your troubled waves?"
"My dear sir," purred the Frenchman, "let us be seated for a moment more. I thank your Excellency for these new assurances, and appreciate the generosity of them. This has been an afternoon of trial for me,—of deep humiliation. Your nobility adds but one more pang, and, in the name of France, I can bear it! I shall give five hundred yen to the poor of Tokio when this most detestable affair is at an end. It is my first experience of the kind, and shall be my last. Pierre's public dismissal from the service of this Legation will be in the morning papers. I shelter him no longer."
Todd made no comment. He had refused to take the proffered seat. "Your Excellency, I feel the need of fresh air. I must go. But before leaving you I have two questions to put,—answer or not as you think best."
"At your service, Monsieur."
"Have you any knowledge of the motive which prompts Yuki to take so strong, so vital a part in this hellish arrangement—and—do you know her offence?"
"I can answer both. The first is obvious enough. Madame has the natural desire to pass from the arms of winter to that of spring. The other query,—I cannot give a positive reply, but will share the data."
Todd waited in silence. Ronsard arranged his words with some nicety. "In the first excitement of Le Beau's arrival,—as he came in like a maniac, waving a white screed, and gasping out to me its nature,—I cried, 'Then where is Haganè? He must be close behind you!' Pierre, with a meaning glance, assured me that the great man could not follow, being—detained."
"Detained? Well, go on!"
"I marvelled, as you do, at the phrase. 'Detained,' Pierre said,—entangled, tied, quite cleverly, by Madame and her long gray sleeves. Did you not notice the disarray of Madame's toilette?" Ronsard looked up now full at his colleague, as if to enjoy the effect. Todd steadied himself. He would not give this man the satisfaction of gloating over new wounds. The whole terrible thing came clear to him. He saw why Yuki needed to die. It was no punishment inflicted by Haganè, but a last desperate self-atonement.