“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.