The train rattled down to Tokio, cutting at intervals through the magnificent avenue of cryptomerias, at such a headlong pace that Bob feared every moment lest it should jump the rails and end his career before it had begun. But he reached Tokio whole in limb, and, taking leave of Kobo San at the station, hurried to his hotel. After making his preparations, he found that there was an hour or two to spare before the train left for the west, and went into the reading-room to look at the papers, which he had not seen during his absence. There he encountered a dejected group, comprising his ship-board acquaintances Mr. Morton, Herr Schwab, and Monsieur Desjardins, together with a few other Europeans and a couple of Americans, all evidently correspondents. "Hullo!" shouted Morton. "Thought you were at Hong-Kong by now. I wish I were!" Morton’s loud voice, and the atmosphere of the hotel, struck Bob with a curious sense of incongruity after the quiet of his recent sojourn at Nikko. "What! You don’t like Japan?" he said with a smile. "Humph!" grunted Morton. "Precious little of Japan we’ve seen, boxed up here, asking questions, getting no answers. Haven’t sent the _Post_ a decent stick of copy since I came. Everything leaks out in London before we get it here. That wretched legation in Knightsbridge don’t give us a chance. We might as well be in Kamschatka. But what have you been doing?" "I’ve been to Nikko!" "What! Finding ranges?" "Yes," said Bob; "mountain ranges." "You say ranges," broke in Herr Schwab instantly. "I hafe new batent kitchen range, save 95 per cent fuel. I can quote you—" He stopped in stolid wonder at a general chuckle from the group. Morton, evidently scenting information, followed up his clue. "I suppose you’re out of work like the rest of us. Jap motto: ’No foreigners need apply’. They’ve had shoals of applications." Although Bob had not been definitely warned to keep his business secret, he felt that he was not entitled to make any premature disclosure. "Well, anyhow it’s a pleasant enough way of spending a holiday," he said. "There’s plenty to be seen." "My word! yes," said Desjardins. "I am in enchantment. De Japanese, dey are adorable. Deir politesse, it is exquisite; dey tell you everyting, but vis a charm—everyting, except vat you vant to know." "You are right," said Mr. Jacob T. Vanzant, war commissioner of the _New York Eagle_. "I flattered myself I could raise a column of red-hot news out of a dumb waiter, but it would be easier to make the Egyptian sphinx talk than to draw one of these smiling, affable young slips at the foreign office. But it’s war, gentlemen; there isn’t a doubt about that. Listen to this." He took up a fortnight-old copy of the _San Francisco Argonaut_ lying at his elbow.