"Didn't you know, sir, that the Japanese Admiral Uriu was a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis?" cried Starr. "Is it possible?" "It's true, and what's more, he married a Vassar girl." "To graduate from the Naval Academy and marry a Vassar girl--what more could man desire?" laughed Edith. "Echo answers 'What,'" agreed the midshipman enthusiastically. "That is, unless--Miss Ethelwyn,--" But if he had intended to ask whether _she_ were a Vassar student, his courage failed him and he lamely inquired if she "felt the draught." Wynnie dimpled and then laughed outright, putting the young man to still more confusion. Larkin struck in with one of his irrepressible puns about a "Vassarlating maid," and the laughter became general. "I married a farmer's daughter from Connecticut," said Colonel Selborne, "and, as a result, see what a charming pair of adopted nieces I have!" In the midst of the merriment that followed this sally, Señor Bellardo passed out of the hotel door, raising his hat to the group and saying "Good evening, ladies!" on his way to the street, in the shadows of which he soon after disappeared. Larkin started again and frowned. "Where have I heard that voice?" he demanded. No one could enlighten him, and the gay badinage and laughter of the young people was resumed, while the far-off clamours of the crowds were renewed as fresh details of the victory appeared on the illuminated bulletins. The "piazza party" at the Grand Hotel was prolonged to a late hour, when Fred and the midshipman took their leave, promising to call early the next forenoon in order to show the young ladies some of the sights of Tokio. When the correspondent reached his lodgings he cudgelled his brain to recall the time and place in which he had met that stranger whose voice affected him so unpleasantly. He gave it up at last, but his last waking thought was a resolve to follow up the mystery and establish that black-bearded Spaniard's identity before he left Tokio. The next morning the two young men appeared promptly at the appointed hour, together with three _jinrikishas_ (or "rickshaws," as foreigners call them) of the most gorgeous description. It being Saturday the Mikado's private pleasure-grounds, the Fukiagé Gardens, were thrown open to the public, and here the American party wandered for an hour, observing and discussing the broad, smoothly cropped lawns, the cascade, the masses of dark evergreen trees--unfortunately the plum was not yet in blossom--and, most interesting of all, the careless, bare-headed, quaintly dressed, good-natured people who thronged the grounds. Of the six thousand policemen in Tokio not one was visible in the Garden, yet everybody was well-behaved and courteous.