Daikomitsu proceeded directly to Tokyo, and upon his arrival found the shogun’s party considerably stirred up over what threatened to become a serious breach. It had been strongly hinted by some of Ikamon’s enemies that the lord daimyo of Kanazawa had withdrawn in disgust, and for no other reason than a hearty dislike of his son-in-law’s encouragement of everything foreign. There was also gaining ground a feeling that the crafty minister had used too much to his own advantage the powers of the shogun. Notwithstanding this latter charge, the real cause for dissension centred in the growing distrust of the foreigners. Here as in Kyoto it had already become the main issue, and strong overtures were being made to some of the leaders in the mikado’s ranks for a coalition of all the anti-foreign forces.

Upon Daikomitsu’s return to the scene at Tokyo he was showered with every consideration. In fact some of the more ardent openly stated that he had come as the secret envoy of the mikado, for the express purpose of encouraging a friendly understanding between the two heads of government on that subject.

Ikamon was not at all pleased with these friendly demonstrations, because things had so shaped themselves that he could not recede from the position taken had he so desired or thought best. He had used his influence with the shogunate to stamp approval only upon such foreign measures as he had been forced to concede, rather than involve the nation in open hostilities with the powers; which he knew full well would have been practical suicide. As a result of these several contentions there had sprung up, among a few of the more radical of the prime minister’s foes, a demand for the regency of Hitotsubashi, and whisperings of Daikomitsu as a possible successor to Ikamon himself. It had already come to Ikamon’s ears that even Tetsutaisho had listened to the rumors with indifference, whereupon the prime minister sought an interview with Daikomitsu and undertook to wrest from him a definite understanding. The easy-going scholar, of course, denied any such thought as disloyalty to a friend, and carelessly went so far as to suggest stringent measures.

“This unrest must be checked in some way,” said he to Ikamon, a day or so before he had fully made up his mind to return to Kyoto. “Why, it is rumoured that even Maido is in some way dissatisfied. Yet I should sooner think it his son, Shibusawa, were he in a position to speak.”

“I will admit a drag-net might surprise the most sanguine these days—still, Maido is beyond question. When he has proven false, then it is high time for such as you and I to indulge a quicker spirit. In the meantime let us not abstain too much from the liquor—this the golden wine that kissed the wood these forty years or more—and here is to ‘longer friendship’,” said Ikamon, as he raised the bowl to his own lips, then passed it to his guest.

“And a ‘better understanding’,” answered Daikomitsu, as he emptied the contents and filled again the cup for his host.

After this last interview Daikomitsu concluded he had best get away from the scene of his rising popularity, so he immediately returned to Kyoto, where he found Takara anxiously engaged about the daimyos’ meeting, which had already been planned. She had talked with Kido and others, and according to her version none had seemed to object and all promised to take part in the proceedings. Just what the plans really were, no one claimed to know or greatly care; nor did she herself apparently have a very clear understanding. It was her maiden effort in politics, and she knew only that something must be done. Perhaps she had been advised by Kido, who was pre-eminently qualified and probably not reluctant. Possibly she took a woman’s course, and put in motion all her forces at the first impulse. However that may have been, the call was duly made and all responded. Daikomitsu had in person carried the invitation to Maido, and to make certain his response remained there until proper to go.

After the daimyos had assembled, including all the southern sympathisers and many from the north, it soon became apparent that an effort would be made to pledge a united support to a measure intended to expel the foreigners.

Maido had gone there with no intention of joining any such movement, in fact had never surmised its proposal; nor did he afterwards discover that he had really been tricked. Saigo was extremely anxious to get the tacit if not active support of Kanazawa, and in consequence had at an early day cautioned Kido to lose no chance to cultivate a friendly relation with the lord daimyo. Kido, too, appreciated the benefits necessarily to result from such a policy, could they but secure his friendship, though they failed of an alliance. Being not only a very wise statesman, but an adroit politician, Kido recognised Takara’s relation to Maido’s family and counted the power of woman in matters of state, had she the aptitude and could she be induced to venture. Therefore he used the first opportunity to gratify the mikado’s daughter in her ambition and thus further their cause; though the consequences proved to be far more startling than even he had dared to think.

The reception accorded the lord daimyo upon his arrival at Kyoto pleased him very much, and he felt glad indeed for an opportunity to visit his daughter-in-law. While living at his house in Tokyo she had endeared herself to him, and though he realised Shibusawa’s indifference he may have had some hope that this visit might result in at least a partial reconciliation. He knew that originally the marriage had been a sad mistake, but somehow began to feel that possibly in the end it might resolve itself into a useful if not a happy union. He had finally responded to the invitation with such a thought uppermost in his mind, and without paying any attention to the daimyos’ meeting sought while there to devote himself to Takara.

In fact, he had been present only at the passage of one measure; and then was so engaged by Daikomitsu, who accompanied him and had induced him to attend, that he gained little understanding of what actually took place. Nor did he take a copy of the document, when the final draft was submitted to him, but allowed his supposed friend the privilege, eagerly taken, of placing it hastily in his girdle; afterwards striding off pleasantly, together, toward Takara’s house.

“It is a capital idea,” said the younger man, as they approached the marble doorstep. “I want to have you entertain a more friendly feeling toward our people, if not our cause.”

“I am at peace with all the world,” answered Maido, heartily.

“Then we are already on friendly terms.”

“I trust so.”

“And there is a reason.”

“Maido never betrayed a friend.”

“Nor formed a friendship in vain.”

They had seated themselves in the guests’ hall, at Takara’s invitation, and were enjoying their pipes and tobacco. Neither had spoken a word to break the silence for some time, when suddenly Maido said:

“The document, Daikomitsu. Let us see what these lords and barons have been up to.”

“Oh, some letter of the mikado’s, I believe,” said Daikomitsu, unconcernedly, though he trembled perceptibly as he drew it from his girdle and tossed it toward his companion.

“Some friendly encouragement, I presume.”

“Yes, in relation to the foreigners, I believe.”

“Of course,” said the elder, as he drew a long whiff and sat blowing the smoke through his nostrils.

The lord daimyo paid no heed to the—as he supposed innocent—document which lay at his side, but continued the conversation as if he preferred more to hear his friend’s explanation.

Presently Takara came in and seated herself at her father-in-law’s side. Thereat the subject of conversation changed and Maido picked up the dainty roll of paper and tossing it at Takara told her to take care of it until he should want it. She caught it and after a while, when the men were occupied, carelessly unrolled it, and read from beginning to end. As she did this Daikomitsu watched her closely; he twitched nervously and coloured noticeably, though taking care not to attract Maido’s attention.

Takara read on without observing either of her audience, and when finished smiled with a sense of satisfaction. Then re-rolling the paper and replacing the dainty silk which held it, she tucked it away in the sleeve of her kimono.

The measure in question was nothing more than the endorsement of a letter which purported to have been written by the mikado, addressed to the daimyos there assembled, individually and collectively. The endorsement was in the nature of a resolution passed in open assembly, only by the assent of the daimyos; a copy of the letter and resolution, bearing all their names, having been handed to each, his silence being deemed a sufficient approval. The letter recommended that they consult with certain leaders of the bakufu, at Tokyo and elsewhere, named therein at the instance of Daikomitsu, and that they organise a movement to drive out the foreigners and thereby satisfy the demands of the people and restore peace in the land. As a precaution against being found out by the powers at Tokyo, no extra copies were issued, and none not liable, excepting only Daikomitsu, had been allowed to be present.

Takara and her company continued to sit until presently the conversation drifted to things of interest about her home life; whereupon she proposed they stroll through the gardens and enjoy the early cherry blossoms. To this the men agreed, and she courtesied and retired to her own apartments to make ready for the walk.

Entering her own chamber Takara took the document from her sleeve and hastily placing it in a lacquered chest carelessly dropped the lid with a loud report. Turning quickly around, she observed that she had not closed after her the partitions and that Daikomitsu could have seen her, though he had turned his face and was not then looking. Closing her room she proceeded with her toilet, soon after joining again the party, all of whom strolled out into the garden.

They had not been there long, however, before Daikomitsu excused himself and went away, failing to come back again; and when Takara returned to her room she did not remember to look for the paper which she had secreted in her toilet case. In fact, it had entirely escaped her, and she also failed to think of it when Maido later on prepared to take his departure; nor did she afterwards call it to mind, until too late.

Daikomitsu had watched her, and from the closing of the lid knew just where to look for the copy of the letter and resolution; and upon excusing himself in the garden, stole to her room, and taking the instrument gave it to a waiting messenger, who bore it directly to Ikamon. It proved to be Daikomitsu’s golden opportunity, and he grasped it eagerly and effectively. He had in one act proved his loyalty to Ikamon and laid open the way to success, for which he had become eager and in his own easy way sagacious.

Such a sweeping disclosure as this purported to be, though Ikamon had had a thorough understanding with Daikomitsu before the latter’s departure for Kyoto, could hardly have been so soon expected. The prime minister’s self-constituted spy had promised something interesting; but that he should forthwith be able to return an official document implicating so large a number of powerful daimyos—including his own father-in-law and nearly thirty of the bakufu of his own city—in a plot that threatened his own safety and endangered the shogunate, was beyond his comprehension. At first he was dumfoundered, but having fought his way thus far he did not propose to be outwitted. So he pondered the situation over night and the next morning called Jigokumon, keeper of the torments, and questioned him about the capacity of the dungeons. Then he said to him:

“Make ready the cellar of torture, and see to it that the slow fires are well kindled and the red light plentiful, and that the sulphur pots are all filled afresh. Be careful lest there be one among your lackeys who betrays you, for Jigokumon shall suffer the consequences.”

Then he began preparing a list of the condemned; taking particular pains to include all of the bakufu whose names appeared in the letter supplied through Daikomitsu, and as many of the daimyos as he thought it practicable to arrest without warlike resistance. In all there were thirty daimyos and twenty-seven bakufu. For these he issued a warrant in the name of the shogun, commanding the officer of the guard forthwith to bring their bodies before the law, that they might be judged as to their disloyalty, the crime charged. Having duly issued and delivered the writ, his reflections grew, until finally the enormity of the situation had so fixed itself upon his susceptive nature that no punishment seemed severe enough to fit the case.

At first he inclined toward excusing Maido, but upon reflection changed his mind and left his name upon the list; and as time went on and he dwelt upon the matter he conjured up the most hearty distrust of his father-in-law, and finally in his own mind ranked him the most dangerous enemy of them all. He said to himself:

“I can now understand why the daimyo wished to withdraw from the capital. How I was led into letting him go! A swifter vengeance could not have been less deserved.”

The quickness of Ikamon’s discovery of the plot and the suddenness with which he acted so startled them and overcame opposition that not one escaped; but all were promptly arrested and thrown into Ikamon’s dungeon, where they remained stunned and overwhelmed, awaiting their doom. Probably the most heart-broken and puzzled of the many was Maido, for he had no inkling of such a thing and certainly knew of no reason why he should be so treated; though high-handed proceedings were not at all uncommon even in that late day.

At first he inclined toward treating the whole matter as a joke, and finally upon his departure told Shibusawa that he should not remain a martyr, but would return a Maido.

“I trust so,” said the doubtful son, as they saluted a last farewell and the father started off, all fettered and bound.

Maido did not deign to think that anything more than some trivial misunderstanding had arisen, and that upon his arrival at Tokyo everything would be satisfactorily explained and he would be accounted the abused rather than condemned as accused. Shibusawa had less confidence in Ikamon and was more doubtful, still he did not believe anything serious would come of it, otherwise he would have resisted the arrest. In talking the matter over with his son, before being carried away, Maido recalled the fact of having left with Takara the only bit of evidence he had received of his participation in the daimyos’ meeting. He remembered having given her the document after talking it over with Daikomitsu, and said:

“I will ask for it, and Takara will send it forthwith to Tokyo. It sets forth all that to which I am a party, and will be a complete vindication. Daikomitsu knows its contents, and it could not be in safer hands than Takara’s.”

“I do not too much like Daikomitsu,” said Shibusawa anxiously. “He is profuse, and has a purpose.”

“Even so, Takara can be trusted. Do you know, I believe my presence was desired more by her than the mikado? And really she is a grand woman. I trust you will know more of her, and it is my hope that you may like her better. She desires it, I fancy.”

After Maido’s departure, Shibusawa recalled the circumstance and felt much annoyed at the part Daikomitsu had played in connection with his father’s presence at Kyoto. He had come to know his wife’s former lover very well from his repeated visits to Kanazawa in the winter, and was not much impressed with his sincerity. He had also gathered the impression that the apparent dullard had far greater ambitions than generally accredited, and felt suspicious of the close relation that seemed still to exist between Daikomitsu and Takara.

In his limited acquaintance with his wife Shibusawa had formed the impression that she was rather a clever woman, and now that she too appeared recently to have taken much interest in Maido, and gained possession of his only evidence of vindication, he could not resist connecting the two and believing them implicated in some plot to embarrass his aged father, if not to be rid of him entirely. He did not like the look of the situation, and the more he studied the darker it grew.