O’NEIL and his chum Marley had no more than gotten safely on board the “Alaska” than they were again obtaining permission to return to Tokyo.
“We have some dope on the situation, sir,” O’Neil explained to the executive officer, “which Captain Rodgers should know at once.”
Permission was readily obtained, and inside of an hour after their release from their enforced captivity, they were on the train for Tokyo.
“I knew we’d get the correct dope on that guy, Impey, before we got through, Bill,” O’Neil exclaimed happily. “He and those quill-pushers of his have been manufacturing a war out of nothing. They’ve had us all going.”
Marley smiled sympathetically, but hardly intelligently.
“You see, Bill,” O’Neil added confidingly, “this gentleman confidence man has been selling green goods to both sides, and making each believe that the other fellow is putting up a game on him. Nations ain’t like people,” he explained; “people can go to each other and find out just where they stand with one another, face to face. The spies of two nations sometimes get together and sell each other out and send home false dope. When two nations are so different, like us and the Japanese, we have to hire foreign spies because each would soon get on to the other nation’s spies, and then they wouldn’t be any use. This man Impey is an international spy; he belongs to any one who’ll pay him.”
The two sailors took rikishas from the station in Tokyo, and drove hurriedly to the hotel. They hoped to find the midshipmen there, for O’Neil, true to his allegiance, was intent upon giving them his important news first. Then there was time, if the lads saw fit, to tell Captain Rodgers. In another fifteen minutes they were knocking at the door of the American Embassy, where they had found the lads had gone.
The man-of-war’s men encountered two very white and frightened women after they had been led into the hallway by the Japanese man servant.
The sailors, hat in hand, stood much embarrassed before Helen Tillotson and her Japanese girl friend. It was quite evident to O’Neil that both had been crying, and even in his embarrassment the boatswain’s mate realized that something near a tragedy had happened.
“Are you Mr. O’Neil, from the ‘Alaska’?” Helen cried eagerly, grasping the startled man’s sleeve. “Oh, I am so glad you’ve come; something terrible will happen if we don’t prevent it at once!”
“Not Mister O’Neil,” the boatswain’s mate corrected, while Marley suppressed a grin at the title, despite the apparent tragedy believed to be imminent, “just plain Jack O’Neil, at your service, miss.”
“Then you will help us,” Helen begged.
“Bill and I’ll follow you into the forbidden palace of the Mikado, miss, if you say the word.” O’Neil drew himself up proudly, while a broad Irish smile illumined his honest face. “What’s the trouble, may I ask, miss?”
“I hardly know,” the young girl replied tearfully. “Mr. Perry and Lieutenant Takishima were such good friends, and now his sister O Hama-san has come to tell me they are to fight a duel this evening. Don’t you see,” she exclaimed, in an agony of fear, “that we must not let this terrible thing happen?”
“Fight a duel!” O’Neil gasped, while Marley twirled his hat in silent excitement. “When I seen them last they were as good friends as two fleas on a dog’s tail; excuse the expression, miss.”
“Yes, but since then something came between them,” Helen explained breathlessly. “It was over some secret letter. It wasn’t Mr. Perry’s fault. He told me about it this morning. He found this letter and would have given it to the right owners, but it was taken from him, and now Lieutenant Takishima believes that his former friend has acted dishonestly.”
“Bless your heart, miss,” O’Neil exclaimed, eagerly, “Bill and I can explain that. We found the paper. Mr. Perry lost it before he could give it to the lieutenant. We’ve turned it over to the Japanese naval officers in Yokohama.”
With a glad cry, Helen Tillotson embraced her Japanese friend.
“You see, Hama,” she said tearfully, “I knew that we should find a way. Now your brother will listen to reason.”
“Where’s this duel coming off?” O’Neil asked, becoming restive during what he considered was useless sentimentality.
“In Shibu Park,” the Japanese girl replied quietly. “I wouldn’t dare interfere without a strong reason. My brother is bound to vindicate his honor. If he has misjudged Mr. Perry’s acts then the situation is changed. Come!” she commanded.
Helen Tillotson was too greatly relieved in her distressed mind to think on the words of her girl friend, and it was only a few minutes before sunset when the party arrived at the meeting place in Shibu Park. Leaving the carriage they followed Hama along the winding path, past many shaded temples to a low level stretch of grassy soil before a large Buddhist shrine. Before they had emerged from the wooded path the sound of strife came faintly to their ears, and Helen’s pale face blanched still whiter at the terrifying clash of steel upon steel.
O’Neil had pressed ahead, and as he reached the clearing the sight that met his gaze made his martial spirit rise within him, and he could barely refrain from giving a yell of delight as he watched the evenly matched contestants.
Phil towered above his small antagonist, while the two blades hissed and rasped one upon the other like things alive. Both faces were pale and set, and over Phil’s cheek a trickle of blood showed where his opponent’s steel had lightly touched. Sydney, for in spite of Phil’s wish he had insisted upon acting as second, and a Japanese lieutenant stood, swords in hand, their eyes following every movement of their principals, to see that no unfair advantage was gained by either.
The young ladies stopped on the edge of the woods, enthralled by the sight. Deep down in the human heart, even in women, is an instinctive admiration for the fighting man; for one brief second each gazed at her champion, an almost savage lust for victory, even through bloodshed, in her eyes. Then the primitive instinct faded and the American girl saw the Japanese officer’s blade prick the breast of his opponent; she saw her boy friend give back a step, and with his sword strike up the other’s blade, while a deep red flow of blood gushed from the wound so deftly made. She gave a distressed cry and fell into the arms of the calm little Japanese girl behind her; while unheeding the interruption at hand the two modern gladiators fought on.
“I hate to stop it, Bill,” O’Neil exclaimed excitedly as Phil’s serpent-like point pierced the sword arm of his skilful antagonist, “but they’ll be hurting each other soon if we don’t.”
Before O’Neil could reach the side of the duelists, Phil’s powerful blade had wrapped itself about the singing steel of his antagonist, and with a powerful stroke down and out, aided by Takishima’s loss of power in his sword arm, sent his opponent’s blade far across the grass. It struck the temple wall with a metallic thud, and lay shivering as if alive on the wide flag-stones.
“Neatly done, sir,” O’Neil cried out in hearty admiration, as he ran to Phil’s side and quietly but masterfully disarmed him.
Takishima stood his ground, unflinchingly, his arms folded on his breast.
“The game little bantam!” O’Neil exclaimed in a loud aside. “‘Come and finish me’ is what he means by that.
“You’re excused,” O’Neil cried in nervous hilarity; “nothing doing. Go put on your coat. Don’t you see the ladies waiting to speak to you?”
The sailors and Sydney insisted upon leading their much bedraggled champion off to the friendly shelter of a near-by shrine, where O’Neil’s ready resourcefulness quickly staunched the flow of blood in an ugly wound on Phil’s breast.
“Only a flesh cut,” Sydney exclaimed in relief after he had examined the wound and assisted O’Neil in applying a first-aid dressing.
Takishima and Lieutenant Tanu, his second, stood nonplussed at the sudden appearance of what they looked upon as an unwarranted interruption.
“This is a nice hospitable way of entertaining your guests,” O’Neil exclaimed almost angrily, as he glanced at the haughty faces of the Japanese officers. “Civilized people don’t fight duels any more. I thought you prided yourself on being highly enlightened.”
“Don’t make it any worse than it is, O’Neil,” Sydney commanded irritably. “Mr. Perry has given him satisfaction, and his life too, for that matter.”
“I am afraid it’s all my fault, Mr. Perry,” O’Neil said soberly dropping his bantering manner. “Bill and I found a letter at the theatre. It was the one lost by the injured messenger. If we’d caught you at the hotel this morning we’d have given it to you and saved all this trouble.”
“Where’s the letter now?” Phil questioned anxiously, holding out his hand to O’Neil, half expecting to see the sailor produce it from his blouse.
“It’s in the hands of the Japanese naval officers at Yokohama.” O’Neil imparted the information, a spark of triumph in his eyes. “Our friend Mr. Impey and his cutthroats attempted to jail me and Bill here, and lay hands on the letter, but we fooled ’em, and when we were let loose, I gave the letter to the Japanese naval officer that came over in response to our call for help.”
The lads looked surprised and puzzled, but Takishima’s face as he listened wore an expression which was hard to interpret.
O’Neil quietly and in a few words outlined the yacht incident, not sparing the two men who had been aiding Impey to discredit America in the eyes of the Japanese.
“The man that brought our flag on the stage at the theatre last night was with them. I believe he’s a Filipino insurgent,” O’Neil added.
“Was this letter open,” Phil asked eagerly, “and did you show it to Sago?”
O’Neil nodded in the affirmative.
“The seal was broken when I got it, sir,” the sailor replied. “I asked Sago to translate it for us, and he didn’t tell the correct dope what was in it, but one of Mr. Impey’s men did.” The sailor looked up questioningly, jerking his head over toward the listening Japanese.
“I want them to hear,” Phil exclaimed. “I want you to tell everything that has happened. We must clear up this terrible misunderstanding.”
“They said it was an imperial order to take the Chinese ships, which would mean war between the United States and Japan,” O’Neil explained. “When I realized that our having the letter might bring about ill feeling for the ‘Alaska,’ I put all the blame where it belonged, for they told me that Mr. Impey had translated the letter. I told the Japanese naval officer that we had taken the letter from the two men on the yacht. Probably those men are now prisoners on the Jap ships at Yokohama.”
Phil stepped forward to where Takishima was standing, a much puzzled expression on the lieutenant’s usually calm face.
“You see, Takishima,” he said coldly, “I meant to be honest with you, and if I hadn’t lost the letter, would have restored it last night. It seems Mr. Impey has fooled us both. He is no more my friend than he is yours.”
“Then you did not order your sailors to secure the letter?” Takishima asked slowly.
“You have heard what O’Neil has said,” Phil replied quietly, “and the ‘Shimbunshi’ letter found in my room was written by Impey’s men also.”
Takishima was on the point of inquiring further; the details of the perplexing tangle were as yet not clear in his mind, but Phil had turned away. He had caught a glimpse of a woman’s gown, and in confusion gazed at Helen Tillotson standing near, supported by her Japanese friend. He was at her side in an instant.
“Why did you come?” he exclaimed sternly. “You must go at once. Sydney,” he called, “please see that Miss Tillotson and Miss Hama get home safely.”
But Helen was not to be treated so lightly. Her big blue eyes showed a hidden fear.
“Are you much hurt?” she asked solicitously, disregarding the stern command in his eyes.
“It is all a mistake,” she added suddenly, appealing to Takishima. “Mr. Perry told me this morning how he lost the letter. He would have given it to you, and was much mortified at the thought of being considered dishonest. Make him acknowledge that he was wrong in forcing this deplorable duel,” she ended pleadingly to Hama at her side.
Very solemnly Takishima put out his hands to Phil, taking both of the midshipman’s in his and wrung them impressively.
“Perry, if I were a true Samurai, I would take my life by hara-kiri, for I have cruelly misjudged and injured a good friend.”
“You ought to both get down on your knees and thank these two young ladies,” O’Neil exclaimed, interrupting the sentimental scene. “If it hadn’t been for them you’d probably be cutting pieces out of each other yet.”
Phil laughed uneasily, and took Helen’s trembling hand impetuously.
“How did you know?” he asked her, as the party moved away toward the entrance to the park where their rikishas were waiting.
“Hama-san came and told me, but she said she feared her brother too much to interfere,” the young girl confided as the pair walked down the gravel path. “She believed that you had betrayed and insulted him, and according to their code he was bound to kill you or be killed himself; but when your sailors came and explained your innocence, which bore out what I had told her, she gladly led us to the spot.”
“He would have killed me if he could,” Phil said in a low voice, pressing Helen’s hand thankfully. “I saw that in his eyes.”
At the park entrance the party gathered in the growing darkness.
“Taki,” Phil said, stepping up to his friend’s side, and taking his outstretched hand, “now that you know that Impey has misled your government in supposing that the United States will seize the Chinese ships, cannot Captain Inaba be recalled by wireless, if he has indeed sailed? The situation would be much clearer if he were back in Japan.”
Takishima’s face showed marked surprise as he asked:
“How do you know that Captain Inaba has sailed, and what his mission is?”
“I don’t,” Phil replied quietly, smiling inwardly at Taki’s betrayal, “but Impey told me he was sure he had gone to seize the ships.”
“Whatever has been ordered by our Emperor cannot be altered,” Takishima hastened to say, “but I hope that better understanding between our countries will soon come after the part Impey has played becomes known to both governments.”
“If your Emperor could be convinced that the United States had no intention of obtaining the Chinese ships,” Phil asked eagerly, “would he have wanted to obtain them for Japan?”
“I am sure he would not,” Takishima replied readily. “The price asked is enormous, much more than it would cost to build them in my own country.”
The party was breaking up; most of them had climbed into their jinrikishas, and were waiting upon the two in absorbed conversation.
“We must talk over this again to-night,” Phil exclaimed as he saw they were keeping the rest waiting. “I’ll see you at our ambassador’s.”
Takishima nodded, and the next moment the entire party was in motion.
Phil was deep in silent meditation. He was thinking over a plan; one similar to that proposed by Impey, but with a vastly different purpose.