eased parishioners.
The disaster was not irreparable. His enthusiastic followers already
sought to make good the damage. Himself he would find aid from the cult
in Edo.

Kosaka Jinnai, for the unfortunate cleric was none else, seated himself
in the comfortable quarters of the _do[u]mori_, to earn his shelter by a
talk which in interest richly repaid the meagre fare, and made amends
for no prepossessing exterior. On his pleading weariness the _do[u]mori_
got out _futon_ and spread a couch for the guest. This suited Jinnai's
real purpose, which was not to loiter close to Edo and Aoyama's claws,
but to push on that night toward Tsukuba and old friends, and recent
ones he knew he would find on its none too savoury slopes. But Heaven
does not permit the wicked a continued license in ill deeds. The
weariness and indisposition pleaded, in part genuine, rapidly grew
worse. The chilled feeling passed into its palpable and physical
exposition. With alarm the _do[u]mori_ watched the progress of this
ailment. His hot drinks and solicitude would not produce the needed
perspiration. Instead the chill was followed by high fever and delirium.
The medical man, summoned from the village, was taking leave--"A plain
case of ague from Shimosa's swamps. Is he friend or relative of the
honoured Shukke Sama? No?... Alas! A case of resting under the shade of
the same tree; of drinking from the same stream.[30] Deign to have a
care with this fellow. He says strange things, and raves of robbery and
strife--'I am Kosaka Jinnai; the famous Jinnai.' Truly you are to be
pitied at being saddled with such a guest. Doubtless it is affliction
for some deed committed in a previous life, a connection of two worlds
between the honoured Shukke Sama and this doubtful guest."

The _do[u]mori_ was an old and foolish fellow; but still able to catch
the warning tone and manner of the leech. With anxiety he went to his
guest. Jinnai was sleeping under influence of the draught administered,
and on the word of the medical man was insured for some hours
unconsciousness under the drug. Placing food and drink close to hand,
out into the darkness went the sturdy old chap. The day saw him at
Harajuku-mura, wandering around the site of ashes and charred beams of
the late conflagration. No sign of renovation was there found. For
satisfaction and a meal he turned to the benches of a near-by eating
shed. His inquiries confirmed his own fears and aroused the suspicions
of o