Phil waved the question aside.
“It was found by a friend and given to me,” Impey continued after a pause. “I recognized it as an important paper, but at that time I knew nothing of its character. I can translate Japanese, and instead of going to the prime minister’s ball, I made a translation of that letter. One of my friends, Randall, was with me and had just gone out when I was attacked. He discovered me afterward unconscious on the floor of my room.”
Phil was about to interrupt with another question, but Impey hastened on.
“You took it then from my assailants, but how did it go to the sailors?” Impey asked. “They claim to have found it at the theatre, and they brought it on board my yacht at Yokohama, and they are there at this moment—my prisoners. In the interest of peace and for your good I have held them until I could come to you and privately explain the situation.”
For the fraction of a second there was silence. To Phil, Impey’s voice sounded insincere, yet everything pointed to its being the truth. Suddenly Sydney jumped to his feet, his eyes bright with amazement.
“Then why did Taki take the stand he did? He did not know our connection with this document?” he asked.
Impey’s face was wreathed in smiles.
“That is quite simple to explain. Captain Inaba believes that you, Mr. Perry, had the letter, for the sailors said they showed it to your Japanese steward and he was in Captain Inaba’s office this morning. I saw him come away from there myself.”
The two midshipmen exchanged rapid glances. Had they been mistaken in their estimate of Impey? Was he after all playing square? Yet the conversation on the train was still unexplained.
“Were you on the special train that brought us to Tokyo yesterday?” Phil suddenly asked, while Impey, apparently unconscious of the intended trap being laid for him by the midshipman, nodded, his face still smiling.