After Sago had finished, Inaba sat for several minutes in profound thought. This indeed was startling and baffling news. The letter in the hands of American sailors and on board Mr. Impey’s yacht. Impey he had seen scarcely two hours ago. He had seen him go into the American Embassy and had followed him in, as he himself had business with the ambassador. For some time he had mistrusted this smooth foreigner and his intimate relations with the American ambassador. If by ill fortune the ambassador’s daughter had not interrupted him after he had dismissed the servant, he might have surprised the conversation on the other side of the closed door to the ambassador’s office. When he had entered he felt a delicate situation had arisen, but his own confusion in being surprised had made it impossible for him to analyze the causes. Had Impey then given the ambassador the contents of this important letter? His spies had told him that Impey had held the letter; but why should he divulge it to the American ambassador? Sago stood silently watching the sphinx-like face which betrayed nothing of the methodical reasoning within Inaba’s mind. Then the naval man nodded and smiled, patting the steward on the back as one would reward a child for a favor done. The cable was his first thought. In answer to a bell several underlings quietly appeared. Inaba wrote hastily, sealed the letter, and a messenger quickly departed. No cable messages would leave the country until censored by Inaba. That order he had given by a stroke of the pen. The knowledge of the contents of the last letter would remain in Japan until the time had passed when it could do harm. The next letter was quickly despatched. It would prevent the British yacht “Sylvia” from leaving Yokohama harbor until he, Inaba, authorized its release. “Raku, our Emperor does not forget the faithful,” Inaba said after he had finished his writing. “Remain true to your conscience and the honor of your ancestors.” Sago withdrew, a grateful look in his eyes. Then Inaba drew out from a drawer in his desk the letter found the night before in the American midshipmen’s room. His knowledge of English writing was not great, but as Takishima had not put in an appearance, he read on slowly, laboriously, seeking words frequently in a dictionary at his side. The situation had become more perplexing. Here was an article calculated to arouse the Japanese people against the American naval visitors, written in English and intended for a newspaper supposedly owned by a foreign syndicate. Takishima had brought him the word the night before that the midshipman had denied that the lost letter had been found by their sailors, and Takishima was quite confident that his classmate was honorable. Yet here was a letter found in his room which showed conclusively that he was not honorable.