“Do you mean that clean, raggy little man who looked through you, but not at you?” she questioned.  “Star of my Sapphire, you have made a hit.  That was Kobu, the keenest detective the flag of the Rising Sun ever waved over.  I thought you knew.  He has been here a week trying to pry information out of Lady Jinny.  You should hear their interviews.  He asks the subtlest questions, and Jane Gray doesn’t do a thing but let her tongue get locomotor ataxia, and Kobu can make nothing of her answers.  It’s as good as vaudeville to hear them.  He’d just as well leave her alone.  Torture wouldn’t make her tell what she knows, and she doesn’t have to either!  Did he ask you about Page?  He did me too.  What does it matter?  I told him all I knew.  That is most all.  Why shouldn’t I?  There’s nothing wrong about Page.  He just can’t get over the loss of his father, and there is something about old money that worries him.”

She threw her arms around my waist.

“What a happy day!  Isn’t Jane the realest saint you ever knew?  You’re a saint, too, Ursula, the nice sinnery kind that I love to play with.  I am tired and hungry.  Come on, let’s find Lady Jinny and go home.  Isn’t the blessedest thing in the world to have one to go to?  I dare you to race me to the corner.”  I was far from feeling playful, so declined.

More than ever I felt the necessity of an interview with Page.  I must know the truth.  He must know the happenings of the afternoon.

* * * * *

That evening, after dinner, while sitting with Zura in the living-room, I eagerly listened for Page’s step in the hall.  Soon it came, and as we arose to greet him I was made more anxious by his fever-bright eyes.

I was reassured, however, when he replied to my inquiries by saying:  “Quite all right, thank you.  Head gets a bit rocky at times, but that does not matter.  Awfully sorry I was unable to be among those present at Miss Jane’s tea party.  Tell me all about it—­the guests and the costumes.”

Though he walked about the room, picking up books and small objects only to lay them quickly down, he gave the closest attention to Zura as she eagerly gave her account of the afternoon.

I was about to interrupt with a request to Page to come with me for a private conference in the dining-room, when a summons came for me to go at once to the house in the garden where Ishi lived.  The messenger thought Ishi was very ill, or gone crazy.  I found him very drunk.  Standing in the middle of the room, with rows of rare orchids ranged around the walls, he was waving a sharp-bladed weapon while executing a sword dance.  In between steps he made speeches to the plants, telling them how their blessed brothers and sisters had had their heads cut off by a silly girl on whom he would have vengeance.  He had sworn by his blood at the temple.