“Do you speak English too?” he asked of Miss Kamikura. Cho Kamikura, or O Chio-san, as she was called by her friends, shook her head, smiling nevertheless into the lad’s face. Phil almost dropped the plate from which he was eating, as he suddenly saw his sought for Mr. Impey enter the tent and come directly toward his party. Takishima grasped his hand cordially, while his woman companion stopped to speak with Phil’s new-found girl friends. Then, his pulse beating fast, he felt Takishima’s hand on his arm, and he turned about to encounter the not too friendly eyes of Impey. “Perry, let me introduce you to Mr. Impey. He is a great friend of His Excellency, the American ambassador,” and then the ceremonious Japanese officer introduced Phil to Mrs. Kingsley and then to Mr. Kingsley, who had lagged behind his wife. This was the automobile party with whom Helen Tillotson had come to the garden fête, and who on their way had run down the sailor’s rikisha. Phil glanced covertly at Impey as he bowed over the hands of the two Japanese young ladies. “A friend of his ambassador and, of course, of Helen,” he thought; “then he could hardly be the same man who had insisted in the railway coach that America was intentionally misleading Japan, and would eventually force a war upon her to wrest from her the fruits of her victory over Russia.” “By Jove, Mr. Perry,” Mr. Impey exclaimed loudly as he returned to Phil’s side, “it was very stupid of me to run down one of your sailors. I was most awfully glad to find he was unhurt.” Phil thanked him quietly, but without enthusiasm. He felt that his sympathy was not genuine. “You championed him beautifully,” Impey added, smiling patronizingly. “The ladies with me were much impressed, and showed me their displeasure.” Phil blushed deeply. The apology that he had determined upon stuck in his throat. He decided now it was unnecessary. There was a vague, intangible something in the man’s voice which made Phil suspicious that Impey was not what he would like to appear. What it was Phil was at a loss to describe, but he resolved that he would give his best efforts to discovering it, and hoped that his judgment had not misled him. He now believed that Impey and the man in the next compartment on the train were one and the same person. CHAPTER III WAR TALK They had only just finished the cooling refreshments so daintily served them, when the American party, led by one of Japan’s most illustrious admirals, entered the tent. Lieutenant Takishima was on his feet in an instant, his heels firmly together, and his hand raised to his cap vizor. Phil followed the little Japanese’s example, and grasped the naval hero’s hand warmly as the latter stepped over to greet him. “Admiral Kamikura is my chief; he is our Minister of Marine,” Takishima whispered as the high ranking naval officer returned to Captain Rodgers’ side. “It was he who commanded the cruiser squadron during our late war.”