Ashton-Kirk, Secret Agent

by John Thomas McIntyre

  CHAPTER XV

  ALMOST

  After dinner that evening, Ashton-Kirk looked over the last edition ofthe papers. About eight o'clock he arose, stretched himself contentedly,and then went to a stand, a drawer of which he pulled open. From this hetook several black, squat-looking pistols of the automatic type, and oneby one balanced them in his hand. Selecting the one which struck hisfancy, he slipped it into his pocket and prepared to go out.

  "Shall you leave any word, sir?" asked Stumph, in the lower hall.

  The secret agent paused for a moment. Then he scribbled something on acard and gave it to the man.

  "If I do not return by morning, get Fuller on the telephone and readthis to him," said he.

  "Very good, sir."

  At the station Ashton-Kirk was forced to wait some little time for atrain; and when, finally, he rang the bell at Okiu's door in Eastbury,it was a trifle past nine o'clock.

  There was a delay after he rang; the house was gloomy; not a lightshowed at any of the windows; from all indications it may have beendeserted. But through the tail of his eye he caught a slight stirring ofa curtain at a window upon the lower floor.

  "They seem to be very careful," mused the secret agent. "I am muchfavored, as, apparently, they do not admit any one who is not thoroughlyconvincing."

  After another brief space, the door was opened. Ashton-Kirk saw a dimhall and a short man of enormous girth.

  "Mr. Okiu?" asked the secret agent.

  "He is at home," replied the fat man. "Who are you?"

  The secret agent gave his name, and at once the man stood aside.

  "I will tell him that you are here," said he, as Ashton-Kirk entered."Will you sit down?"

  He indicated a hall chair with much politeness; but Ashton-Kirk noddedand remained standing. There was a single incandescent lamp burning inthe hall, and its yellow rays barely lit up the dark corners. At the endwas a railed stairway which led to the rooms above; and along the hallthere was a dark array of tightly-closed doors. However, these thingsgot but a glance from the secret agent. The Japanese who had admittedhim attracted his notice.

  This latter had a huge, round head and a fat, brutal face, and hisimmense body gave him the appearance of an overfed animal. His skinglistened with a high-smelling oil; when he moved, its scent wasparticularly heavy and unpleasant. Everything about him seemed topromise inertia, ponderous movements, shortness of breath. But thispromise was not kept, for he passed down the hall with a light, quickstep; then he sprang at the staircase and went bounding up like anenormous rubber ball.

  There was something in this so unexpected, so utterly tiger-like, thatAshton-Kirk felt the nerves of his scalp prickle.

  "Rather a formidable sort," he murmured, and as he spoke his hand wentto his outer coat pocket as though to assure himself that the squat,black pistol was still there. "One might hold him off and hit him topieces; but let him break down a guard and come to grappling and he'dafford astonishing entertainment."

  In a few moments the fat man reappeared. He paused half-way down thestairway, and the light rays were reflected in his slanting eyes as hefixed them upon the secret agent.

  "You will come with me, please," he said.

  Unhesitatingly Ashton-Kirk followed him up the stairs and along a hallupon the second floor. A door at the rear stood open, and at a roundtable, under a powerful light, sat Okiu. At sight of the visitor thislatter arose, a welcoming smile upon his placid face.

  "Sir," said he, "you are too good. I am delighted beyond measure."

  Ashton-Kirk shook the outheld hand.

  "I am pleased to be asked here," said he. "I could have hoped fornothing that would have agreed so well with my inclinations."

  The heavy lids partially veiled the black searching eyes of theJapanese; but the bland, childlike face was as expressionless as before.

  "You are polite," smiled Okiu, still shaking the secret agent's hand."But I knew you would be so. All persons of real parts are kind andready to place the stranger at his ease."

  Then turning to the other Japanese, who remained waiting in the doorway,he added:

  "Sorakicha, give the gentleman a chair."

  With rapid, soft, tiger-like steps, Sorakicha advanced; lifting ahigh-backed chair he placed it at the side of the table opposite whereOkiu had been sitting. And when the secret agent walked around the tablehe came face to face with the man as he was about to leave the room.

  "Sorakicha," said Ashton-Kirk, "I think you have been a wrestler."

  The brutal face became a mass of yellow corrugations; a set of broad,well-worn teeth shone whitely.

  "I have been a champion," said he proudly.

  Ashton-Kirk nodded, and critically his keen eyes ran over the monstrousform before him.

  "You are strong," said he. Then darting out one of his slim hands hegrasped the thick wrist of the wrestler. Instantly the man caught themeaning of the act and his huge, blubber-like body grew rigid witheffort. There was a pause full of striving; the eyes of the two weresavage, the teeth shut tightly, the breath swelling in the lungs. Then,slowly, the thick arm of the Oriental bent upward until the clinchedhand touched the shoulder; and at this Ashton-Kirk released him andstepped back.

  For a moment the amazement which the wrestler felt was plain; but againthe fat face broke into yellow corrugations.

  "You, too, are strong," said he. "But it was a trick."

  "The proper use of strength is made up of tricks," answered Ashton-Kirk,simply.

  Okiu had witnessed this little incident with a smiling calm. And now hesaid to his countryman:

  "And so, my friend, you have met your match at hand grasps? I told youit would be so. But," and he turned to Ashton-Kirk, "I did not expect tosee it in a man like you." There was a curiously speculative look in thehalf-closed eyes as they examined the tall, well-built form of thewhite man. "But," he went on, "experience is knowledge, is it not? Andto profit by experience," to Sorakicha, gently, "is the sign of wisdom.So remember, my friend," and he smiled as he spoke, "remember that Mr.Ashton-Kirk is strong."

  "I will not forget," replied the wrestler, his well-worn teeth shining.And with that he left the room, the door shutting quietly behind him.

  Ashton-Kirk sat down, as did his host. The latter fluttered the pages ofa great, uncouthly made book which lay before him; his yellow,beautifully-shaped hands touched the leaves with careful gentleness; itwere as though the volume were a child which he was caressing.

  "Again," said he, "I will tell you that I am greatly favored by yourcoming. I had not hoped for so much when I wrote you, for I knew," andhere his voice grew even softer than before, "that your time was greatlyoccupied just now."

  "We all have our occupations," replied Ashton-Kirk, suavely, "but evenwhen one is interested, one can always find a little time to devote toothers."

  "I suppose that is so," said Okiu, thoughtfully. "However, I who am amere idler, so to speak, know very little of the value of time. Dayafter day, night after night, I spend wandering in the ancient gardensof Nippon. There are no singers like these," and one pointed fingerindicated some shelves filled with books and scrolls; "there are nowritten words quite so full of beauty."

  "The poets of one's own nation are always the most touching," saidAshton-Kirk. "This is especially so of the old poets. Sometimes we takedown a dusty, musty old fellow from a top shelf where he has long lainneglected, and being in the humor for it, we are startled by thesweetness of his vision. There is a fragrance about ancient memorieswhich is irresistible. The distance, perhaps, has something to do withit. Yesterday has no perspective for the most of us; but 'yester year'is deep with it, for all."

  Okiu nodded.

  "The ancient peoples had their prophets and their oracles," said he,"and their gods spoke through them. But the shades of the old Nipponesespeak to me through the messages of the poets. The virtue of the dead ishere accumulated; the wisdom of my holy ancestors leaps up to me fromthe pages of my books." Caressingly, the wonderful hands
touched thefaded pages of the volume upon the table. "There are no thoughts soreverent as these," he went on; "there are no gardens so still, so fullof quiet odors, so slumberous under the stars. And there is no moon sosilent, or so wan and soft in searching out the secret paths beneaththe flowering trees, where the shadows walk hand in hand."

  "But," said Ashton-Kirk, "the great bulk of your countrymen haveforgotten these dreams of a past time. Modern progress seems to interestthem more than anything else."

  Again the Japanese nodded.

  "Progress was forced upon them," said he, and then with a smile, headded: "It would be strange, would it not, if they should outstrip theirteachers?"

  "It is a thing which has happened before now."

  "Napoleon, I have read, once declined to molest the Chinese because hefeared to teach them his own great art, and so put the power in theirhands which might eventually crush him and his nation." Okiu laughedsoftly, and his polished nails picked at the edges of the book. "TheCorsican, my friend, was not quite so venturesome as your merchants."

  "Your history will point out to you the fact that soldiers are seldom sodaring as those in quest of trade. In most cases the trader is firstupon the ground; and the troops come later."

  "In any event," replied Okiu, "your merchants desired the trade whichthe Dutch possessed, and that desire, in the end, made Japan a nation tobe reckoned with. The more imitative the people, say your ownphilosophers, the greater their future development. And no one,"gently, "can say that my countrymen have not kept their eyes open."

  Ashton-Kirk smiled.

  "It is a way they have," said he. "And people who keep their eyes openlearn much."

  "But not all," said Okiu. "The eyes will not tell us all." He arose andwalked to the window; the starlight was but dim, and there was no moon."Much as I might desire to see what is passing out there," said he,after a moment, "I cannot do so. And it is so with other desires. Manythings which we might wish to know are hidden from us, some in one way,some in another."

  Ashton-Kirk said nothing in reply to this; there was a marked pause,then the Japanese went on:

  "The other night as I stood here, I saw----" he turned upon the secretagent. "You recall what I told you?"

  "Very clearly."

  "I saw moving shadows, then I saw a man hurrying away. I should haveliked to have seen more, but I could not--and so I went to the houseover there to see what a closer look would do for me."

  "And to tell Dr. Morse what you had seen."

  "As you say, of course. And then I saw you--a friend of the familyof--was it two days' duration, or three?"

  "Two only."

  "Thank you."

  Okiu looked out into the night; his arms were folded, his legs very wideapart, his back turned toward the secret agent. Usually there issomething peculiarly disconcerting in a squarely turned back; it is soblank, it tells so little. However, this was not so in the case of Okiu.His bland, lineless face told nothing; whereas in his attitude there wasa purpose which Ashton-Kirk read easily. And, reading it, he lookedcarefully but swiftly about the room.

  The table was between himself and the closed door; a pair of heavycurtains hung behind him. To all appearances these protected some openbook shelves, but a rapid swing of his light stick showed the secretagent that their real purpose was to conceal a doorway. Calmly he satback in his chair, nursing his cane, his keen eyes upon the figure atthe window.

  "I think," now resumed Okiu, "that I remarked at the time how short aspace there was between your forming the acquaintance of Dr. Morse andhis death. You meet him one night and he dies the next."

  The tongue clicked against the roof of the mouth pityingly; it were asthough the coincidence excited his grief.

  "I have always understood that you Americans were an impatient people.You have the reputation, whether deserved or not, of forcing thingswhich do not happen as promptly as you would have them. This in itselfis an excellent trait at times, for it saves one from imposition of manysorts. But it does not always serve." Here Okiu turned and faced thesecret agent. His face was as bland and meaningless as ever, and hisvoice was low pitched and gentle, as he proceeded. "No," said he, "itdoes not always serve. As it has resulted in this case, Dr. Morse isdead, and you have not benefited in the least."

  Ashton-Kirk looked at him with steady eyes; there was not the slightestsurprise in the secret agent's face, and his tone was unruffled as hereplied:

  "I think I understand."

  "I am quite sure that you do," replied Okiu, with equal suavity. Heresumed his seat at the table; and once more he began lovingly toflutter the leaves of the ancient book. "That the methods pursued inthis case should be resorted to by a barbarous nation," said he, and agleam of mockery appeared in the slanting eyes, "would be the expectedthing; but that a Christian government should so stoop is something of asurprise."

  "Oh! You were surprised, then?"

  "Only mildly. You see, I have been employed upon many internationaloccasions, and know the requirements of a secret agent. When the casedemands it, he does not hesitate. But," and here the smooth handsgestured their disapproval, "this case did not demand it. Nothing was tobe gained by the mere death of this Englishman."

  Ashton-Kirk nodded.

  "In that," said he, "I agree with you."

  "I do not know," continued Okiu, "what put you upon the scent, but thata person possessing sufficient acumen to strike it at all should at thesame time be so great a bungler as to do that," and one leveled fingerindicated the Morse house, the lights of which could be seen through thewindow, "astonishes me."

  Ashton-Kirk bent the light cane into a bow across his knee; hisexpression was that of a man waiting for an expected something to besaid or done. There was now a pause of some duration. Okiu studied theman before him in the same impersonal fashion with which a man studies amounted insect, then he resumed:

  "I have heard of you very favorably, and had counted upon one day havingthe pleasure of testing myself against you; but now----" again theremarkable hands gestured, this time to complete the sentence.

  "I'm sorry you have been disappointed."

  "You are not nearly so sorry as I, believe me." The heavy lids droopedover the piercing eyes in a way which Ashton-Kirk had already come toregard as a warning of something ulterior. "You have been searching thehouse?" he asked.

  Ashton-Kirk laughed lightly.

  "Who has not?" he inquired.

  Okiu joined in the laugh.

  "It has all been labor wasted," said he. "Dr. Morse was not the man toleave valuable property lying about." Again he regarded the secret agentintently, and once more resumed: "I suppose by this time you have not somuch hope of coming on anything as you once had?"

  Ashton-Kirk allowed the cane to spring back straight; with a look ofunconcern he made reply.

  "On the contrary," said he, "I was never quite so sure as I am justnow."

  Okiu stared, and then came slowly to his feet.

  "You have found it?"

  "No." And Ashton-Kirk yawned contentedly. "But I could place my hands ina very few moments upon the person who has."

  At this the palms of the Japanese came together softly.

  "Why," said he, and his voice was full of gentle surprise, "perhaps Ihave been mistaken in my opinion of you, after all."

  "Perhaps," answered Ashton-Kirk.

  But for all the secret agent's seeming ease of manner, at the soft slapof the Oriental's hands, his every sense had grown alert; and now hisear caught a rustling behind him which said plainly that some one hadstepped quietly into the room. An instant later, a peculiar, high scentas of an Eastern oil reached his nostrils; and though he did not turnhis head, he knew that the newcomer was the wrestler, Sorakicha.