mbered now--a spring morning with Geoffrey and
the little dwarf trees.

The notoriety of the Ito murder case did Asako a good turn. Her
friends in Japan had forgotten her. They had imagined that she had
returned to England with Geoffrey. Reggie Forsyth, who alone knew the
details of her position, had thrown up his secretaryship the day that
war was declared, and had gone home to join the army.

The morning papers of January 3rd, with their high-flown account of
the mysterious house by the river-side and the Japanese lady who could
talk no Japanese, brought an unexpected shock to acquaintances of the
Barringtons, and especially to Lady Cynthia Cairns and to Countess
Saito. These ladies both made inquiries, and learned that Asako was
lying dangerously ill in the prison infirmary. A few days later, when
Tanaka was arrested and had made a full confession of the crime,
Count Saito, who knew how suspects fare at the hands of a zealous
procurator, called in person on the Minister of Justice, and secured
Asako's speedy liberation.

"This girl is a valuable asset to our country," he had explained to
the Minister. "She is married to an Englishman, who will one day be a
peer in England. This was a marriage of political importance. It was a
proof of the equal civilisation of our Japan with the great countries
of Europe. It is most important that this Asako should be sent back
to England as soon as possible, and that she should speak good things
about Japan."

So Asako was released from the procurator's clutches; and she was
given a charming little bedroom of her own in the European wing of the
Saito mansion. The house stood on a high hill; and Asako, seated at
the window, could watch the multiplex activity of the streets below,
the jolting tramcars, the wagons, the barrows and the rickshaws. To
the left was a labyrinth of little houses of clean white wood, bright
and new, like toys, with toy evergreens and pine-trees bursting out of
their narrow gardens. This was a _geisha_ quarter, whence the sound
of _samisen_ music and quavering songs resounded all day long. To the
right was a big grey-boarded primary school, which, with the regular
movement of tides, sucked in and belched out its flood of blue-cloaked
boys and magenta-skirted maidens.

Count and Countess Saito, despite their immense wealth and their
political importance, were simple, unostentatious people, who seemed
to devote most of their thoughts to their children, the