Suddenly she saw the man's cap and gauntlet in the corner. Her cheeks rushed into flame. She seemed to see Haru's innocent face smiling at her over the throbbing _samisen_ and through its tones to hear again the echo of a ribald laugh before the gilded cages of the Yoshiwara. Something in her cried out against the inference. All at once she took an abrupt step forward. She was looking at the round glass lantern just outside the doorway, painted with three characters: [Japanese: Donto] She chilled as if ether had been poured in her veins. The name they stood for had been her first lesson in Japanese--_which Haru had taught her_! She snatched up one of the volumes from the chair. It was Lillienthal's _Conquest of the Air_. She opened it to the title page. Ware, watching, saw with surprise that she was trembling violently. She had grown pale to the lips. The book slipped from her fingers and crashed on to the _tatamé_. It lay there, open as she had held it, and he saw what was written across the white leaf. It was Daunt's name. His thought leaped as if at the flick of a lash. Daunt's book! What was she thinking? The piteous pallor that swept her face like an icy wave answered him. Why she was there--her interest in this Japanese girl who fled from her--he could not guess. But it was clear that she had not known the house was Daunt's, and that with the knowledge, she was face to face with what must seem a damning complicity. Perhaps some hint of this retreat had come to her--he knew how gossip feathered its shafts!--some covert allusion, some laughing _oui-dire_, to which her coming had now given such verity. Phil was the _deus ex machina_ of the situation. His Japanese _amour_ she was now laying at Daunt's door! All this flashed through his mind in an instant. He watched her intently. Over Barbara was sweeping a hideous chaos of mocking voices, bits of recollection barbed with agony. The little house near Aoyama parade-ground--the carriage had passed the great empty plaza a few moments ago--that he had kept from "sentiment"! The house she had asked him to show her, when he had evaded the request. And Haru! A feeling of physical anguish like that of death came to her; a dull pain was in her temples and the floor seemed to be rising up with her toward the ceiling. Daunt? He whose lips had lain on hers, whose letter was in her bosom--it burned her flesh now like a live coal! "There has never been another woman to me, Barbara. There never will be!" The words seemed to launch themselves from the air, stinging like fiery javelins.