There was a short colloquy between mother and son, during which Mme. Ito smiled blandly and waved her fan to and fro.

“No, Madam, my mother does not have that complaint,” answered her son in precise English.

Miss Campbell flashed a glance of black reproach at Nancy, as much as to say: 

“It’s your turn now, ungrateful girl.  Speak, for heaven’s sake.”

Nancy exchanged a hopeless glance with the distracted lady.  Then she remarked: 

“Mr. Ito, is your aunt married?”

Yoritomo smiled broadly.

“She is a widow,” he replied.  “In Japan all widows cut their hair short.”

“But what a strange custom,” objected Nancy.  “That would keep them from ever marrying a second time.  I’m sure I should never cut my hair if my husband died.  I should use hair tonic to make it grow longer and thicker.”

Yoritomo laughed outright and communicated Nancy’s views to his relatives.  They laughed, too, and contemplated her knot of chestnut curls with much admiration.

There came another uncomfortable pause.  Two simultaneous winged prayers went up into the ether and relief was granted in an unexpected and startling guise.  Billie and her friends had just returned and tea and refreshments of a light volatile nature were being passed for the fourth time, by order of Miss Campbell.  The visitors were elaborately declining all further nourishment when Nancy saw an arm raised from behind a thick clump of shrubbery near the summer-house.  It was clothed in nondescript brown and long fingers clutched a stone.  The arm gave a swift circular movement, as if to gain impetus.  Then it went backward with a movement of a pitcher about to throw a ball.

“Yoritomo,” shrieked Nancy, for the stone seemed to be aimed straight at his head.

In the fraction of an instant the young Japanese had ducked and the stone had crashed into the summer-house and fallen at his feet, making a dent in the floor.

Undoubtedly Nancy had saved his life.

“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Miss Campbell, but Mme. Ito and her sister and daughter were perfectly calm and silent, as were also the Japanese maids, gathered in a frightened group behind them.

“I never saw people take on so little,” Miss Campbell observed later, describing the incident to her cousin.

Nancy wept softly.  It was never very difficult for her to weep and she emerged from one of these gentle paroxysms—­even as the flowers after a summer rain—­a little dewy but refreshed.

Yoritomo vaulted over the rail of the summer-house and ran in the direction of the group of shrubbery.  But, of course, no one was there.  Who could expect an assassin to wait and be caught?

“I think we had better get into the house at once,” ordered Miss Campbell, and taking Mme. Ito’s arm, she hurried the little lady up the path, calling to the others to follow.  Once in the drawing-room, all the windows were ordered closed and the doors locked, while Komatsu was sent to search the premises.