palled him. The
obvious thing, of course, was to go out and see the city, but he had
declared to Judson that there was nothing worth seeing, and one must be
consistent before one's servants. Even the morrow offered no abatement
to his misery. Most of the people he knew were going from Yokohama to
Kobe by rail, and he pictured himself the only guest at the captain's
table for three mortal days.

At three o'clock he went down to the terrace and took his seat at a
small table that commanded a view of the hotel entrance. To one with
a free mind the scene was highly diverting, with jinrikishas and
occasional victorias thronging the bund, and gay parties constantly
arriving and departing. Coolies in blue, with mysterious Chinese
lettering on their kimonos and with bright towels about their heads,
trotted past; women with blackened teeth and with babies strapped on
their backs clattered by on wooden shoes; street venders sang their
savory wares; merchants displayed treasures of lacquer and ivory, street
dancers posed and sang to the tinkle of the samisen.

But to Percival it was at best a purgatory where he seemed to be doomed
to wait through eternity. Not that he meant to speak to Bobby Boynton
when she arrived or make the slightest sign of forgiveness. That she
should have allowed Andy Black to keep her out from eleven in the
morning until after three in the afternoon was even more shocking than
her behavior to him the night before. He was resolved to show her by
every means in his power that to even a disinterested acquaintance like
himself her conduct was wholly unpardonable. Meanwhile that emotion to
which the captain had so grossly alluded took entire and absorbing
possession of him.

Toward the middle of the afternoon Mrs. Weston joined him on the terrace
in an anxious mood.

"Have you seen anything of that naughty Bobby Boynton?" she asked. "I am
quite distracted about her. Our train for Kioto leaves in half an hour.
You don't suppose anything has happened to her, do you?"

"I really can't say," said Percival, with a shrug that suggested the
direst possibilities.

"We simply must go on to Kioto tonight," continued Mrs. Weston,
anxiously nervous. "My cousin would never forgive me if I disappointed
him. You see, he's lived in Kioto for years, and he's promised to take
us out to an old Buddhist temple on a wonderful sacred mountain that I
can't pronounce. We've been looking forward to it for weeks."

Percival sto