In Takishima’s bosom there rankled the thought placed there against his will by Captain Inaba’s words, that these two friends had contemptibly betrayed him. While professing their friendship they had secretly taken and read an official letter sealed with the sacred seal of the Emperor. Furthermore, they had been guilty of writing a sensational story calculated to stir up the Emperor’s subjects against Americans. And yet here they were his guests, under his father’s roof. The situation, to one brought up to cherish high ideals of honor, was intolerable. The sanctity of the home was his strongest heritage. An enemy was ever safe when under the family roof-tree. He decided that he would take them elsewhere. He could not be impolite in his own home. The laws of the host for centuries forbade an unkind word to be spoken to a guest. “Miss Tillotson will be driven home by O Chio-san,” Takishima said awkwardly, as he led the way through the garden toward the gate. The midshipmen followed in silence, glad to leave the heavy atmosphere; to be free of the impressive and studied politeness of their classmate. Both lads felt keenly the accusing sting in Takishima’s manner. “You must explain,” Sydney whispered as the three took waiting jinrikishas and were quickly in motion on the smooth boulevard. The three had not gone a half mile before a fourth rikisha came trotting up and the self-satisfied face of Robert Impey smiled from its raised hood. “I was afraid I had missed you,” he exclaimed. “Can I speak to you, lieutenant?” he asked, motioning his sturdy coolie to steer up alongside of the rikisha of the Japanese naval officer. Takishima bent his head to listen. The midshipmen kept their eyes and ears to the front while the low murmur of Impey’s voice came to them indistinctly. Shibu park was soon reached and the coolies having had their instructions entered the shady roadway leading to a tea house frequented by foreigners. The four men were led into the garden by daintily gowned Japanese girl attendants and located under the foliage of a spreading oak at a table cunningly made from a clinging grape-vine. The two midshipmen were not, however, in the mood to notice the natural beauties of their surroundings. Phil was inwardly annoyed at Impey’s presence. He blamed him for his present predicament, and before him how was he to explain the intolerable situation? “The audience of the American captain with His Majesty has been postponed,” Impey said carelessly, noting with evident enjoyment the surprise and alarm in the faces of the Americans. Phil’s heart almost stopped beating. What Captain Rodgers had feared had taken place! Takishima’s lips trembled. With that power of restraint cultivated by the people of his race for centuries he succeeded in controlling his features. No other outward expression of the effect of Impey’s words was evident.