fore that time I was sitting on
the edge of the chair, ready and waiting, trying to coax into my
over-soul an ounce or so of poise, a measure of serenity. It needed no
fortune teller to forecast that this visit to the Kencho would be
productive of results, whether good or bad the coming hours alone could
tell.

Knowing the searching questions that would be put to Page Hanaford, I
was beginning to wonder if the offer of this position was not part of
the game Kobu was playing. I had never seen Japan's famous manhunter
till the day before, but by reputation I knew him to be relentless in
pursuit of victims to be offered as tribute to his genius. Thoughts of
Page Hanaford in prison garb behind barred doors made me shiver.

I was depressed in spirits and was trying to plan what I could possibly
do, when the sound of Zura's voice came to me as she moved about in the
upper story attending to her household duties. It was a foolish old
negro melody she sang, and one of its verses ran:

Ole Cap'n Noah a-feelin' mighty blue,
Kep' a sayin' to hisself, "Oh, what shall I do?"
'Long come a sparrow bird, spic 'n spin,
'N _he_ say, "Brer Noah, do de bes' you kin.

Yo' joy 'n yo' trouble is sho' gwine to bide
'N las' jes' as long as yo' own tough hide.
So say, Cap'n Noah, better laugh 'n grin;
Perk up yo' speerits 'n do de bes' yo kin.

The insistent note of happiness in the girl's voice and the humble
philosophy of the song so cheered me that, when my escort appeared on
the stroke of ten, hope came riding down on the streaks of sunshine that
were battling through the clouds.

While my companion had about him every mark of nervous restlessness that
so often precedes a crisis or an illness he also had the air of a man at
last determined to turn and face a pursuing enemy and stand, or fall by
the clash. Fear was absent from face and manner. He even lightly jested
as Jane, while greeting him, slipped into his pocket a tempting-looking
package.

"Page, dear," she twittered, "it is only cookies and sandwiches and
pickles and cake. But talking always makes people hungry. Those nice
gentlemen down at the Kencho are never in a hurry. They may keep you
till after lunchtime. You and Miss Jenkins can have a tea party."

Page laid a kindly hand on Jane's shoulder. "You dear little saint of a
woman! How good all of you are to me, and how I thank you. Well
good-by. When you see me again I'll be--"

With han