It was fortunate that the gravity of his errand, no less than his power of self-control, kept Brett from laughing. As it was, he smiled very broadly when he greeted the master of the flat, for the little man was small even for a Japanese. The contrast between him and his helpmate was ludicrous. He could not possibly kiss her unless she stooped, nor would his arms encircle her shoulders. "And how is my pretty _karasu_?" he asked, regarding his wife fondly. "Don't call me that, Nummie!" she cried. Turning to Brett she explained: "He calls me a crow, and says it is a compliment, but I don't like it." "In Japan the clow speaks with the voice of love," grinned Jiro. "Well, it sounds funny in London, so just attend to this gentleman. He has come to see you on business." Mrs. Jiro forthwith seated herself to listen to the conclave. Brett, though warned by the maid's remark, could not help himself, so he went straight to the point. "Over a year ago," he said, "you were in Ipswich." Instantly a severe chill fell upon his hearers. The man shrank, the woman expanded, but before either could utter a word, the barrister continued: "Personally, I know no one in Ipswich. I have only visited the town twice, during an Assize week. It has come to my knowledge that you gave the police some information with reference to a Japanese weapon which figured in a noted crime, and I have ventured to come here to ask you for additional details." Mrs. Jiro heaved a great sigh of relief. "My gracious!" she cried, "you did startle me. I can't bear to hear the name of Ipswich nowadays. I was married from there." "Indeed!" said Brett, with polite interest. "Yes; and my people are always hunting me up and making a row because I married Mr. Jiro. Sometimes they make me that ill that I feel half inclined to go with him to Japan. He is always worrying me to leave London, but the more I hear about Japan the less I fancy it." "Ah, my own little _gan_--" broke in her husband. "There you go again," she snapped. "Calling me a _gan_--a goose, indeed! Now, Mr. Brett, how would you like to be called a wild goose?" "I have often deserved it," he said. "You do not understand," chirped Jiro. "In Japan the goose is beautiful, elegant. It flies fast like a white spilit." His English was almost perfect, but in words containing a rolled "r" he often substituted an "l." "I understand enough to keep away from Japan, a place where they have an earthquake every five minutes, and people live in paper houses. Besides, look at the size of your women-folk. Just imagine me, Mr. Brett, walking about among those little dolls, like a turkey among tom-tits." "We give fat people much admilation," said Jiro. "Nummie, I do hate that word fat. I can't help being tall and well developed; but it is only short women who become 'fat'." She hissed the word venomously, as if she possessed the scorpion's fabled power to sting herself. Evidently Mrs. Jiro dreaded corpulence more than earthquakes.