A smart
maid answered that ring and looked dubiously at Ayscough as he proffered a
request to see Mr. Mori Yada. Yes--Mr. Yada was at home, but he didn't
like to see any one, of an evening when he was at his studies, and--in
fact he'd given orders not to be disturbed at that time.
"I think he'll see me, all the same," said Ayscough, drawing out one of
his professional cards. "Just give him that, will you, and tell him my
business is very important."
He turned to Melky when the girl, still looking unwilling, had gone away
upstairs, and gave him a nudge of the elbow.
"When we get up there--as we shall," whispered Ayscough, "you watch this
Jap chap while I talk to him. Study his face--and see if anything
surprises him."
"Biggest order, mister--with a Jap!" muttered Melky. "Might as well tell
me to watch a stone image--their faces is like wood!"
"Try it!" said Ayscough. "Flicker of an eyelid--twist of the lip--
anything! Here's the girl back again."
A moment later Melky, treading close on the detective's heels, found
himself ushered into a brilliantly-lighted, rather over-heated room,
somewhat luxuriously furnished, wherein, in the easiest of chairs, a cigar
in his lips, a yellow-backed novel in his hand, sat a slimly-built,
elegant young gentleman whose face was melting to a smile.
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