"So!" said the other in a low, malignant voice. "And I--who have designed Japan's turrets and cheapened her arsenal processes--I may not wear the Cordon and Star of the Rising-Sun!" In the darkness a smile of malice crossed his face. "We shall see if she will hold her head so high--_then_! Whether war follow or not, it will damn her in the eyes of the nations! She will not recover her prestige in twenty years!" They passed on down the dark slope, out of sight and hearing of the girl crouched in a corner of the sentry-box. At the foot of the hill, Bersonin said: "It will take some days longer to finish my work, but the ships will stay for a fortnight. To-morrow night I will mark the triangle on the roof of the bungalow, so that the angle of the tripod will be exact. There must be no bungling. You can go by an earlier train, so we shall not be seen together, and I shall return here in time for the ball." There was a fire in Haru's bosom as she went on along the thorn-hedges. She had heard every word, and she said the English sentences over and over to herself to fix them in her mind. What they had been talking of was the secret that lay beneath Ishida's questions--for an instant she had almost touched it. A feeling of deep pride rose in her. Japan was not sleeping--it watched! And in the path of the plotting danger stood her lover. These two men hated Japan! War? They had used the word. Japan did not fear war! Had not that been proven? Her heart swelled. But the thing they were planning was her country's enduring humiliation, "whether war follow or not!" She felt a sudden deep horror. Could such plots be and their God--_her_ God now--not blast them with His thunder? And one of these men had spoken with her, touched her, _kissed_ her! She struck herself repeatedly and hard on the lips. All at once she shivered. Might it be that in spite of all, such a black design could succeed? The Chapel was brilliantly lighted and the rose-window threw beautiful tints, like shawls of many-colored gauze, over the shrubbery. She entered and slipped into a seat near the door, burning with her thoughts. The first evening service had brought a curious crowd and the place was nearly filled. She rose for the singing and knelt for the prayer mechanically, her delicate fingers twisting the little white-enamel cross hanging from its thin gold chain on the bosom of her _kimono_. Painful imaginings were running through her mind. The lesson was being read: it was from the Old Testament, the modern, somewhat colloquial translation. This-after, Samson a Sorek Valley woman called Delilah did love. Then the Princes of the Philistines the woman-to up-came, saying: As for you, by sweet discourse prevail that where his great power is or by what means overcoming, to bind and torture him we may be able ...