Admiral Kamikura and Captain Inaba had been in consultation for nearly an hour while Takishima in his own office awaited the outcome. The plan advanced by the bold Inaba seemed dangerous in the extreme. It might lead to war--to war with a country that he looked upon as partly his own. He had spent four happy years at the Naval Academy at Annapolis. He knew the American navy and admired it. The American people he had studied in all their phases. “Their thoughts are not upon war, but history shows that when war comes they can fight as hard and as long as any people in the world,” he exclaimed aloud. Within the hour Inaba sent for him. The admiral had gone. The captain’s face was grave, but his eyes were bright with excitement. “I am sorry I cannot be at your lunch party to-day,” he said gravely. “I am off to Sasebo. Give my regards and sayonara to your sister, O Hama-san. I can tell you nothing more, Takishima,” he added, seeing that a question trembled on the lad’s lips. Takishima bowed low, murmuring a wish that good luck attend him upon his mission; then the door closed behind him. CHAPTER XIII THE QUARREL It was not a happy party that assembled in the old Count Takishima’s spacious dining-hall. Phil and Sydney were anxious and uncomfortable; Lieutenant Takishima was preoccupied, while an atmosphere of depression hung over every one else at the feast. The meal was served in the Japanese fashion, the guests seated upon soft cushions on the mat-covered floor. Takishima’s father, an old Samurai and a count of the empire, received his guests with distinguished courtesy, bowing low and welcoming each arrival with the vaunted gallantry of Japan’s ancient chivalry. Takishima’s sister was wistfully silent. She had been told that Captain Inaba had gone away on duty for the Emperor, and was sad and disconsolate. O Chio-san and Helen Tillotson were the only ones who evinced a semblance of gaiety for the feast. Phil found himself next to Helen, and the girl did her utmost to draw him out of his fit of despondency. The old-fashioned Samurai, whose two children had been educated in America, made heroic efforts to induce his son and daughter to interpret for him his expressions of welcome, but he soon gave it up as an impossible task and lapsed into silence. It was not until Takishima’s sister Hama-san had carried off the women guests to show Helen that part of the house reserved for women’s eyes alone, and the old count also withdrew, that the midshipmen found themselves alone with their classmate.