Daunt was silent. He had seen that strange look that had shot across the expert's face--at the sound of a laugh! He was wondering, too, what attraction could exist between this middle-aged scientist with his cold eyes and emotionless voice and Phil, sparkling and irresponsible black-sheep and ne'er-do-well, who thought of nothing but his own coarse pleasures. Frequently, of late, he had seen them together, at theater or tea-house, and once in Bersonin's motor-car in Shiba Park in Tokyo. "You don't like him! I can see that well enough," went on Phil aggressively. "Why not? He's a lot above any man _I_ know, and I'm proud to have him for a friend of mine." "There's no accounting for tastes," returned Daunt dryly. "At any rate, I don't imagine it matters particularly whether I like Doctor Bersonin or not. There's another thing that's more apropos." He pointed to the decanter in the other's hands. "You've had enough of that to-night, I should think." Phil reddened. "I've had no more than I can carry, if it comes to that," he retorted. "And I guess I'm able to take care of myself." Daunt hesitated a moment. To-day's call had been a part of his consistent effort, steadily growing more irksome, to keep alive for the sake of the old college name, the _quasi_ friendship between them and to invoke whatever influence he might once have possessed. "I'm thinking of your brother," he said quietly. "You say his yacht came into harbor from Kobe to-day. He'll scarcely be more than a week in the temple cities, and any train may bring him after that. You'll want all the time you've got to straighten out. You'll need to put your best foot forward." A look that was not pleasant shot across Phil's face. "I suppose I shall," he said savagely. "A pretty brother he is! He wrote me from home that if he found I'd been playing, he'd cut his allowance to me to twenty dollars a week. I'd like to knock that smile of his down his throat--the cold-blooded fish! _He_ spends enough!" "He's earned it, I understand," said Daunt. "So will I, perhaps, after I've had my fling. I'm in no hurry, and I won't take orders always from him! I've had to knuckle down to him all my life, and I'm precious tired of it, I can tell you." Daunt's eyes had turned to the broad expanse below, where the white sails of vagrant _sampan_ drifted. In the road he could hear the sharp tap-tap of a blind _amma_--adept in the Japanese massage which coaxes soreness from the body--as he passed slowly along, feeling his way with his stick and from time to time sounding on his metal flute his characteristic double note. Across the moment's silence the sound came clear and bird-like, very shrill and sweet. "What business is it of his," Phil added, "if I choose to stay out here in the East?" Daunt withdrew his gaze. "Take his advice, Phil," he said. "The East isn't doing you any good. You're doing nothing but dissipate. And--it doesn't pay."