This morning (the 24th) he had to undergo another examination by a Japanese official, who furnished us with an example of the criminal procedure of Japan in those days. This gentleman was an inspector of the bodyguard, who, by representing himself as belonging to the Jō-i, or anti-foreign party, and applauding the prisoner’s deed, gradually wormed himself into his confidence, and got a good deal of fresh information out of him, especially a statement that there were three other accomplices, also belonging to the first regiment of Guards, who had been waiting in a house further down the street ready to spring out and follow up the action of himself and Hayashida should they fail, or only partially succeed, in their attempt. The prisoner stated that he was twenty-nine years of age—Hayashida, the dead man, was a lad of eighteen. He repeated his thanks for the kindness which he had received at my hands and at those of Doctor Willis. Once more he begged to be executed quickly. Hayashida was dead and he had no care to live. The three men whom he denounced were of course arrested, and equally of course, denied their guilt. In the afternoon we had a second visit from the ministers of the Mikado. They brought with them a despatch conveying in writing the apologies which they had delivered orally the evening before; they offered the fullest reparation, expressing their willingness to indemnify the wounded men, and to make provision for their families should they unfortunately die. Nothing could be more dignified or more satisfactory in every way than the language which they held—a notable contrast to our experiences of Bakufu days. Sir Harry Parkes had made no complaint and demanded no reparation. The action of the Government was as spontaneous as it was noble: what a blessing it was to be quit of the old wrangling and bullying which alone bore fruit a few months before. The envoys begged that Sir Harry would not allow the madly wicked act of a few ruffians to stand between the Mikado and friendship with Foreign Powers. It would have been churlish not to meet them halfway and accordingly the visit which had been so cruelly interrupted was fixed to take place on the day after the morrow.