ising his robes, a vigorous hand applied to the priest's cushions
such a drubbing as he had not had since childhood's days. Then grasping
him neck and thigh Jinnai cast him out onto the _ro[u]ka_ and down the
steps which led to it. The old fellow heard the _amado_ close tight with
noise. Thus the unwilling god entered on the service of this new
satellite.

The hue and cry was loud. In the cold of the night the _do[u]mori_
wandered, afraid in his shame and trouble to approach parishioners;
afraid in the chill outside air to sleep. A hail came to his ears--"Sir
priest, have you not dropped coin?" Ah! Here was a stranger; and his
tale he did unfold. Parlous his case; and for him the sky was upside
down. "Most lucky! At our place to-day a prayer of _hyakumanban_
(memorial service) is to be held. Food, sleep, and counsel, wide enough
for this weariness and distress are offered. Deign to go in company."
Thus the spy led him to his officer, a _yoriki_ established at
Fuchiemura in the attempt to net this desperate fellow. With joy the
news of Jinnai's close proximity was heard. Entrusting the tired and
barely conscious priest to the village head-man, officer, _do[u]shin_,
and _yakunin_ set out. Jinnai had overrated his capacity. Again the fit
was strong on him. He shook and shivered, helpless under the weight of
every covering he could find, and dared not move or turn in fear of the
chill aroused. Then at the outside came the shout--"His lordship's
business! Make no resistance; submit at once to the rope, in hope to
secure grace." The _yakunin_ roughly broke down the doors of the
priest's house. They found Jinnai on foot. Growled he--"You are not the
kind to face Jinnai. A rush--to freedom; with such of you as stand for
carrion." He boasted overmuch. His fit was too strong even for such iron
resolution. The crisis of the fever was at hand, and his legs bent under
him. A shove from behind sent him weakly sprawling in a heap. Then they
all fell on him, bound him hand and foot, and carried him to the
village.

The cortege halted on its way to Edo town. Loud had been the lamentation
of the unfortunate _do[u]mori_. He was a ruined priest. At best a
witness, perhaps to be regarded and tortured as the accomplice of this
desperate villain; jail or the execution ground awaited him. He plead
with this one and with that. With sympathy they heard, but in stolid
silence. The spy, who had accosted him, knew the old man well--holy,
pure, so