Percival, standing in his stockinged feet on the soft mats, looked about him.  The room was devoid of furniture, its only decoration being a vase of carefully arranged flowers in an alcove, and a queer kakemono that hung on an ivory stick.  As he was inspecting the latter, the nesan again approached him.

This time she seemed to have designs upon his coat, and despite his protest began to remove it.  When he forestalled her at one point she attacked another, until the situation became so embarrassing that he shouted indignantly for Sanno.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded furiously.  “Why doesn’t the girl go away, and leave me alone?”

“Gentleman bass already,” said Sanno, soothingly.  “Kimono?  So?” he joined forces with the nesan to get Percival out of his clothes and into the fresh-flowered kimono that lay on the mat.

“But I never take a tub in the afternoon,” persisted Percival.

Preparations went politely, but steadily, forward.

“What’s this she’s putting on me?” he cried.  “I say, I won’t wear a sash; the whole thing’s too beastly silly.  Tell her to take it off.”

But despite his protests, the long red scarf was wound about his waist and tied with many deft twists and pats into a butterfly bow at the back.  Seeing that protests were quite useless, and being still chilled from his long ride, he decided to resist no longer, but to take the bath that was so insisted upon, and be free to watch undisturbed for the returning party.

The nesan produced a sponge and towel from her long sleeves and, taking Percival by the hand, led him down the hall.  Once in the big, square wooden tank, with the hot water up to his chin, he forgot his trouble, and gave himself up to the luxury of the moment.  Even the knowledge that the determined little nesan was waiting outside the door, and that she frequently applied a round, black eye to a hole in the screen, did not interfere with his enjoyment.

When he was again in his room, clothed except for his shoes, his troubles once more assailed him.  Suppose the Weston party did not return by this route!  The possibility of missing Bobby fired his desire to see her at once.  He had never known twenty-four hours to contain so many minutes.

During the early stages of his malady it had only been necessary for him to recall the aristocratic faces and bearing of his mother and sisters to have his vision instantly cleared and his reason enthroned.  Later it became necessary to add the captain’s sturdy countenance to his list of exorcising spirits.  Now Bobby routed them all, not only taking entire possession of his mind, but actually invading Hascombe Hall, dancing through the gloomy, corridors, and waking the echoes with her youth and merriment.

Of course the Honorable Percival tried to stamp out these wild imaginings, and assured himself repeatedly that the moment he landed in Hong-Kong the whole episode would be relegated to oblivion.  But Hong-Kong was yet ten days away, and Percival saw no use in forgetting before he had to.  He went out to the courtyard and impatiently surveyed the rain-soaked road.