The ambassador nodded his head eagerly, shoving a pad and pencil over toward the speaker.
Impey took the pencil and began to write thoughtfully. A woman’s voice came softly intruding upon the silence of the ambassador’s private office.
“You must pardon the stupidity of our servants, Captain Inaba.” Helen’s words were startlingly distinct, causing the ambassador to rise quickly from his chair and Impey’s pencil to stop suddenly and then fall upon the desk with a sharp click, while his hand crumpled the paper on which it had been writing. “The idea of his not announcing you at once; father is there in the office, I am sure.”
Impey gazed wildly about him. His face had gone quite white and the usual sang-froid of his manner had evaporated.
No avenue of escape seemed possible.
The next moment the door was opened and Helen’s voice announced the Japanese naval officer.
“Captain Inaba was wandering around like a lost soul in the hall,” she exclaimed smilingly. “I didn’t know our servants could be so stupid.” She caught sight of Mr. Impey and noticed for the first time the strained attitude of the two men.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, a catch in her breath. She turned to Captain Inaba; he was standing straight, with military precision, on the threshold, waiting the pleasure of the ambassador to be invited to enter. His sphinx-like face betrayed nothing.
With an impatient toss of her head and a displeased frown she quickly withdrew, walking in stately fashion from the room.
In the big vestibule she discovered the two midshipmen. They had just arrived and were taking off their overcoats. She went quickly to greet them, a relieved smile on her face.