One evening he woke with chattering teeth, and finding himself alone in the quickly-gathering shadows, stumbled upon his feet, with curses on the concubine in that she deserted him in his extremity. Did she not know how much he feared the darkness, and how necessary it was on many counts to conceal his condition from his warriors? Had he not raised her up to be partner of his bed, giving her all she desired, gratifying her every whim? And yet what recked the selfish creature of his wishes, of his terrors, his requirements? Naught! Regardless of his agony, she could quietly go away and amuse herself, leaving her lord and benefactor a prey to goblins. Shivering, with swimming brain, he groped his way in search of her; and somehow found himself, ere he was aware, upon the drawbridge that led beyond the moat. A chill wind was blowing from the river that lapped the frowning walls--a singing murmur seemed to whisper "Come!" Shuddering, obedient to a spell against which his will was powerless, he stumbled on. How dismal dark it was! From the windows of the hall came a ruddy line of light which served to intensify the black. There was a faint sound of brawling within, a clash of steel, a din of bandied threats, followed by the long rippling laugh of the geisha, and then the twang of her samisen. "Always in that hall among the soldiers," No-Kami querulously muttered. "She loves me less and less--cares nothing for my trouble." Since her arrival, he reflected, there had been a gradual and grievous decrease of discipline among the samurai,--a growing tendency to quarrel and snarl in open disrespect of _him_. Had she betrayed his secret? Had she divulged the nameless horror, and the cowardice which unnerved his arm, unsettled his reason, and undermined his strength? Impulse bade him turn and stride into the hall, and there assert himself; and then the breeze, like clammy fingers, stroked his cheek and murmured, "Come!" Whither was he to proceed? Was it the water that summoned him? No! had not the farmer said that the river should ebb away? Folly! why, what was this? Was he, the head of the Hojos, as infatuated as others? Did he believe in the threats of the martyr? On--on, away to the left--whither? To the dim belt of grim grey trees that reared gnarled arms aloft, groaning and swaying in the wind. The accursed trees--home of malevolent ghosts! The trees that chanted ever their loving call to ignominious death. With beads of sweat upon his brow No-Kami listened, and, not knowing what he did, unwound his long silk sash. Then out of the dark shone forth, like glowing coals, the eyes he knew too well, and then there pealed upon the night a mocking shout. Hist! what was that? The voice of Futen, the wind imp? or Raiden, king of thunder, beating upon his drums? What was he doing with that sash?--he, the proud No-Kami? Horror! he, the head of the Hojos, was about to hang himself--to disgrace his line for ever!