“Well, we’re in for it,” said Geoffrey, “we must see it through now.”

They drove up a steep gravel drive and stopped before a broad Japanese entrance, three wide steps like altar stairs leading up to a dark cavernous hall full of bowing women and men in black clothes, similar, silent and ghostlike.  The first impression was lugubrious, like a feast of mutes.

Boots off!  Geoffrey knew at least this rule number one in Japanese etiquette.  But who were these fluttering women, so attentive in removing their cloaks and hats?  Were they relatives or waitresses?  And the silent groups beyond?  Were they Fujinami or waiters?  The two guests had friendly smiles for all; but they gazed helplessly for a familiar face.

An apparition in evening dress with a long frock coat and a purple tie emerged from that grim chorus of spectators.  It was Ito, the lawyer.  The free and easy American manner was checked by the responsibility of those flapping coat-tails.  He looked and behaved just like a shop-walker.  After a stiff bow and handshake he said: 

“Very pleased to see you, Sir, and Mrs. Barrington, also.  The Fujinami family is proud to make your entertainment.”

Geoffrey expected further introductions; but the time had not yet come.  With a wave of the arm Mr. Ito added: 

“Please step this way, Sir and Lady.”

The Barringtons with Ito led the procession; and the mutes closed in behind them.  Down endless polished corridors they passed with noiseless steps over the spotless boards.  The only sound was the rustling of silk garments.  To closed eyes they might have seemed like the arrival of a company of dowagers.  The women, who had at first received them, were still fluttering around them like humming-birds escorting a flight of crows.  To one of them Geoffrey owed his preservation.  He would have struck his forehead against a low doorway in the darkness; but she touched the lintel with her finger and then laid her tiny hand on Barrington’s tall shoulder, laughing and saying in infantile English: 

“English danna san very high!”

They came to a sudden opening between paper walls.  In a little room behind a table stood a middle-aged Japanese couple as stiff as waxworks.  For an instant Geoffrey thought they must be the cloakroom attendants.  Then, to his surprise, Ito announced: 

“Mr. and Mrs. Fujinami Gentaro, the head of the Fujinami family.  Please walk in and shake hands.”

Geoffrey and his wife did as they were directed.  Three mutual bowings took place in absolute silence, followed by a handshake.  Then Ito said: 

“Mr. and Mrs. Fujinami Gentaro wish to say they are very pleased you both come to-night.  It is very poor food and very poor feast, they say.  Japanese food is very simple sort of thing.  But they ask you please excuse them, for what they have done they have done from a good heart.”

Geoffrey was mumbling incoherently, and wondering whether he was expected to reply to this oration, when Ito again exclaimed, “Please step this way.”