As the three men listened to the swift, broken story, there was no sound save the rustle of the wind outside, the clack of a night-watchman, and the ticking of the clock on the marble mantel. The crouching form, the sodden garments, the passionate intensity of the slim, clutched hands, the fire in the dark eyes--all lent effect to a narrative instinct with terrible truth. The Ambassador's knowledge of the colloquial was limited, but he knew enough to grasp the story's main features. It capped the edifice of suspicion and furnished a direful solution to what had been mysterious. Once the Admiral's eyes met his, and each knew that the other _believed_. Terrible as its meaning was--pointing to what black depths of abysmal wickedness--it was true! The Admiral listened with a countenance that might have been carved of metal, but the faces of the others were gray-white. Later was to come to both the pathos and meaning of the sacrifice this frail girl had laid on the knees of her country's gods, but for the hour, all else was swallowed up in the horrifying knowledge, struck through with the sharp fact that one of the partners in this devilish enterprise, however expatriate, was of their own nation. To Daunt this was intensified by his own acquaintance with Phil. Memories swept him of that worthless, ribald career--the evil intimacy with Bersonin--the gradual dominance of the bottle, which in the end had betrayed him! With a singular separateness of vision, he seemed, in lightning-like flashes, to see that betrayal: the blind infatuation, the slow enticements, the reckless, intoxicated triumph, the final surrender. He seemed to see Haru, her secret won, running panting through the wind. He saw Phil waking at last from his drunken slumber--to what shame and penalty? He shuddered. * * * * * When the secretary entered at the crisp sound of the Admiral's bell, he started at the pallid countenances in the room. The Japanese girl stood trembling, half-supported by the Admiral's arm. The latter spoke--in a voice that held no sign of feeling. It was to present the young man to the girl in the most formal and elaborate courtesy. "The _Ojo-San_ deigns to be for but an hour the guest of my mean abode," he said. "Instruct my _karei_ that in that unworthy interval he may offer her august refreshment and afterward prepare her proper escort and conveyance. Meantime, send my _aide_ to me." The secretary's gleam of astonishment veiled itself under oriental lashes, and a tinge of color warmed the whiteness of Haru's cheek. He bowed to her profoundly. As he deferentially opened the door, she turned back, swayed, and sank suddenly prone in a deep, sweeping obeisance. An instant the Admiral stood looking after her. "The petal of a plum-blossom," he said, "under the hoof of the swine!" His manner changed abruptly as the _aide_ entered. He spoke in quick, curt Japanese, in a tone sharp and exact as steel shears snipping through zinc: