SAGO watched the two sailors step into the naphtha launch with their new-found friends and go swiftly out to a little black yacht anchored just inside the long breakwater. He waited until it was evident that the sailors had gone up the gangway ladder and were aboard, and there was a puzzled look on the face of the Japanese. He stood for several seconds, his eyes on the yacht, and then finally walked quickly away.
The steam launch from the “Alaska” came alongside just as he turned, and its coxswain hailed him. “Going off to the ship, Sago?” But Sago did not hear, or if he heard he made no answer, nor did he slacken his pace. At the end of the dock he stepped into a rikisha and at full speed the little vehicle rushed toward the Yokohama railroad station.
An hour later Captain Inaba was in his office at the navy department. His bronze face wore a worried look. From his secret service men, who had been detailed to trace down the missing documents, very baffling news had come. Two of his men had had the letter in their grasp only to lose it. The quarters in the Imperial Hotel had been thoroughly searched, but it had not been found, yet he was confident that it was in American hands. An official-appearing letter addressed to the editor of the “Shimbunshi” was found in Midshipman Perry’s valise at the hotel. Inaba still held this letter on his desk awaiting Takishima’s arrival to help translate its contents, for nothing must interfere with tracing down the important paper. His reputation, even his life, depended upon keeping the contents of the lost letter secret from the Americans.
“Some one to see me, and from the American war-ship!” the little naval man exclaimed, as an attendant delivered a message, holding the door open. “Let him enter at once.” Inaba arose from his chair excitedly, and took several steps in the messenger’s direction.
Sago came hesitatingly into the room. The American steward had not forgotten his early training, and when he beheld the important official, he stopped and made several low obeisances, drawing in his breath each time between closed teeth.
Sago was now essentially a Japanese. His fifteen years in the United States navy had quite passed from his mind. The oath he had taken to uphold the honor of his adopted country was forgotten. Those few silent minutes’ struggle on the dock while he had watched the launch, knowing that the sacred seal of the Emperor had been violated and the letter polluted by alien hands, had proved to him that his allegiance yet belonged to his Emperor and Japan.
Inaba gazed in surprise at this fellow countryman in an American steward’s uniform. He knew of course that there were many of his people so employed, but there was something singularly familiar about this man’s face. Sago kept his eyes lowered, and his head hung down in sign of humility before this powerful adviser to the Minister of Marine.
“What is it? Speak, man!” Inaba commanded.
Sago looked guardedly around the office, assuring himself there were no other ears but his and his questioner.
“Your augustness,” Sago began meekly, bowing again and sucking in his breath, “I have at last found great joy in being able to help my country. Years ago I wronged her, and have paid dearly for it by my self-inflicted exile.”
Inaba approached close to the humble and penitent man and gazed long into his averted face.
“I am waiting,” he said quietly. “Your face comes back to me out of the dim past, but I know you not.”
“Do you remember Raku? He who allowed the war plans to be stolen, and who fled rather than face the disgrace, and who was too cowardly to take his own worthless life in atonement?” Sago raised his eyes and for a second dared to look into Inaba’s face.
“And you have been all these years in exile?” Inaba asked kindly, his voice low, thrilled with wonder. “Did you not hear that the plans were not stolen? The thieves carried away nothing valuable. The plans had been removed the night before by the Minister of Marine himself, and placed in a safer vault. Those very plans were used successfully in our late war.”
Sago’s care-worn, wizened face broke into lines of joy, and into his eyes tears rushed unbidden.
“My guilt was no less, augustness. I slept when I should have been watching,” he said penitently. “And for this I gave up my country and the companionship of my blood and have lived among aliens. They have always been kind, and I love them next to my own people. Augustness, then you were a mere stripling in the office of the minister; now you have become the giant oak upon whom the nation leans for support. Your brain is the oracle on naval tactics and strategy; where before you followed, now you lead.”
Inaba smiled, and in his eyes there was a look of joy.
“Raku, I am but the clay in the hands of the sculptor. All my achievements have been possible only through the virtue of His Majesty, our Emperor.”
Both men bowed almost to the ground as the magic words were spoken.
Sago drew nearer and spoke quickly and earnestly while Inaba listened, his anxious face becoming more tranquil as the minutes went by. There was no interruption.
After Sago had finished, Inaba sat for several minutes in profound thought. This indeed was startling and baffling news. The letter in the hands of American sailors and on board Mr. Impey’s yacht. Impey he had seen scarcely two hours ago. He had seen him go into the American Embassy and had followed him in, as he himself had business with the ambassador. For some time he had mistrusted this smooth foreigner and his intimate relations with the American ambassador. If by ill fortune the ambassador’s daughter had not interrupted him after he had dismissed the servant, he might have surprised the conversation on the other side of the closed door to the ambassador’s office.
When he had entered he felt a delicate situation had arisen, but his own confusion in being surprised had made it impossible for him to analyze the causes. Had Impey then given the ambassador the contents of this important letter? His spies had told him that Impey had held the letter; but why should he divulge it to the American ambassador? Sago stood silently watching the sphinx-like face which betrayed nothing of the methodical reasoning within Inaba’s mind. Then the naval man nodded and smiled, patting the steward on the back as one would reward a child for a favor done.
The cable was his first thought. In answer to a bell several underlings quietly appeared. Inaba wrote hastily, sealed the letter, and a messenger quickly departed. No cable messages would leave the country until censored by Inaba. That order he had given by a stroke of the pen. The knowledge of the contents of the last letter would remain in Japan until the time had passed when it could do harm. The next letter was quickly despatched. It would prevent the British yacht “Sylvia” from leaving Yokohama harbor until he, Inaba, authorized its release. “Raku, our Emperor does not forget the faithful,” Inaba said after he had finished his writing. “Remain true to your conscience and the honor of your ancestors.” Sago withdrew, a grateful look in his eyes.
Then Inaba drew out from a drawer in his desk the letter found the night before in the American midshipmen’s room. His knowledge of English writing was not great, but as Takishima had not put in an appearance, he read on slowly, laboriously, seeking words frequently in a dictionary at his side. The situation had become more perplexing. Here was an article calculated to arouse the Japanese people against the American naval visitors, written in English and intended for a newspaper supposedly owned by a foreign syndicate. Takishima had brought him the word the night before that the midshipman had denied that the lost letter had been found by their sailors, and Takishima was quite confident that his classmate was honorable. Yet here was a letter found in his room which showed conclusively that he was not honorable.
And then came Sago’s information that the American sailors held the lost letter and had even asked him to translate it. Inaba felt that a great crisis had been reached. It was apparent to him that America was endeavoring to force a crisis on Japan through this visit of the “Alaska.” When this decision was reached the long projected and assiduously studied plans should immediately be put in operation. Then Japan would stand ready on guard, but would not strike the first blow unless her honor demanded it.
Inaba sat at his desk deep in thought. His dreams of a great war with a power worthy of his country’s steel made his blood quicken. From the battle between two such fleets as America and Japan would pit against each other, many naval lessons yet unlearned, even as yet unthought, would be demonstrated. It would be a fight that would stand out in raised letters on the pages of the world’s history, and he would be the man to whom future naval historians would give credit for the wonderful victory on the seas won by the Japanese fleet, for Captain Inaba was certain of success. It would be due of course entirely to the great virtue of his Emperor. All Japanese would understand that, but the foreigners would lay it to the work of his methodical and far-seeing brain. A messenger had silently entered and spoke a few words in a low voice; scarcely hearing, Inaba had nodded, still deep in his revery. Then across his mental vision flashed a face and Impey stood before him—nervously smiling.
“I was the unconscious means of losing a valuable letter, Captain Inaba.” Impey’s manner was hasty and he talked as one not sure of his ground. The steely eyes of the Japanese gazed out on him uncompromisingly. His parchment-colored face was expressionless. “Fortunately I have been enabled to secure this letter, and it is now safe on board the yacht ‘Sylvia.’”
Inaba’s face did not move a muscle.
“Yes. I had already learned so, Mr. Impey, and had given orders to prevent her sailing.”
Impey’s face was a picture of confusion and embarrassment. This little Japanese he had always feared, attributing to him powers more than human. He knew that Inaba suspected him, and that the two men who had assaulted him in his own rooms were Inaba’s men. He then must know that the letter had been in his hands. The sailors had taken it from one of these men before he could deliver it to Captain Inaba. Impey knew nothing of Phil’s interruption.
“The letter came into my hands, its seal broken,” he said nervously. “It was taken from me at my home, and not until this morning did I find out who had caused it to be impossible to return the letter to you as I intended.” Impey’s courage slowly returned as he hastily explained while Inaba’s cold eyes looked on unmoved. “The sailors showed the letter to two of my friends, and they contrived to get them on board my yacht where they are now under lock and key, awaiting your pleasure.”
“Then so far the secret is safe,” Captain Inaba replied. His voice showed relief. “The Americans could hardly have had it translated so soon.”
“There is a Japanese on board the ‘Alaska’; he is Captain Rodgers’ steward,” Impey interjected. “He would be able to read the letter if there had been time. One of my friends said the steward was on the train with the sailors.”
Captain Inaba smiled. He knew that Raku could be trusted. Then if Impey had not translated it the secret was as yet safe.
“You can translate our language, Mr. Impey?” Captain Inaba questioned quietly. “If the secret then is out, you naturally fall under suspicion. The letter was in regard to the ships our Emperor has considered buying.”
Impey raised his hand to his throat, something seemed choking him, before he answered.
“I did not read the letter,” he said in a frightened voice. “The seal was broken when it came to me. Why should I wish to inform the Americans of a secret which I have been as anxious as yourself to keep? You must remember, Captain Inaba,” he went on with attempted dignity, “that it is merely a business affair with me. As agent I have agreed to sell you these ships at a price stipulated.”
Inaba’s eyes flashed.
“Are you quite sure, Mr. Impey,” he asked coldly, “that you have not two strings to your bow?”
Impey paled as he heard the words and wished he had remained on board his yacht, instead of trusting himself back in Tokyo. He had risked much in this return; but this he was willing to do if he could be sure of preventing the reception of the American captain by the Emperor. This meeting Impey feared. He had heard of the letter written by the President of the United States, and believed that if this letter was read by the Mikado that Japan would decide not to buy the Chinese ships, thereby making his work of a year profitless.
“As for the secret being in the hands of the Americans, I cannot say,” Impey said quickly, appearing not to have considered Captain Inaba’s accusation of duplicity. “The letter was in the keeping of the Americans all night. It has been through many hands. I took it from the midshipmen while they were dressing for the reception at the prime minister’s.” This Impey decided to say, although it was untrue, hoping that Captain Inaba’s suspicions might be diverted from himself to the Americans. He in truth had obtained the letter from Wells and had but finished its translation when the two Japanese detectives interrupted him.
“The sailors,” he went on, “appear to have trailed it down and eventually, as you know, succeeded in recovering it. The American ambassador sent for me early this morning to talk with me in regard to the concession for the Kiangsu-Hohan Railway in which my syndicate is interested. I noticed that he was strangely excited and when you entered his office I believe he was on the point of telling me the cause of his agitation.”
While Impey was speaking a messenger quietly entered the office, handing Captain Inaba an envelope which he eagerly opened.
“The ambassador has our secret,” the naval officer exclaimed. “Here are his cipher cables to Washington and Manila. They must contain the secret. The code is too difficult for us to translate, so I must act as if the letter had been read by the Americans. All cables by my orders are being held up by the cable operators until it is too late for them to harm us. That we are determined to secure at once the ships of the new China navy will not be known by the United States government until the ships are in our hands.”
The turn affairs had taken was a great blow to Impey. His single aim, for which he had even risked his life, for he feared a fanatic’s knife if his duplicity was made public, was that the United States should be forced to seize the Chinese ships. Everything had been designed to lead up to this crowning event.
“Will you seize the ships at once?” Impey exclaimed, striving to inject a gladness into his voice which he was far from feeling.
The presence of the “Alaska” came suddenly into Impey’s mind. She could not be stopped, and once away could send the secret by wireless to Guam, Honolulu, and thence to the United States. So after all his cause was not entirely lost.
“I shall advise sailing at once to intercept the Chinese squadron,” Captain Inaba answered promptly. “Have you the release from the Wai-Wu-Pu ready—for we do not wish to appear to seize the ships?”
“It has not come from Peking,” Impey replied. “It was not thought that such haste would be necessary. I expect it in a few days.”
“Then we shall proceed without it,” Captain Inaba exclaimed. “The Chinese admiral will hardly risk a fight against our formidable fleet.”
Impey had quite regained his natural humor. He had been given a severe fright, but he thought Captain Inaba’s suspicions toward himself had been successfully allayed.
The yacht was ready to sail, and the permit from the Wai-Wu-Pu, the throne council of China, for the United States to take the entire new navy from the Chinese crews was in Impey’s possession at that moment. The “Alaska” could sail from Yokohama, and send the important news of Japan’s intentions of seizing the Chinese ships. The yacht with her high speed could carry ahead the permit to the United States admiral in Manila Bay.
“Japan is indeed fortunate, Captain Inaba, in the possession of an officer who so successfully combines the qualities of a strategist, diplomat and international detective. I take off my hat to you, sir.” Impey pronounced his words with great precision. No sign of the nervousness which earlier had been apparent was evident.
He was as yet safe from Captain Inaba’s suspicion. With that thought bringing a smile to his lips he bowed himself out of the office.