At the command of Keiki, men with iron gloves seized me and stripped me of my brocaded wedding robes. Bound hand and foot, I was flung into a kago and a net entwined about me. I was spared the shame of daylight, but torches and lanterns exposed the white-skinned captive to all who chose to look and revile.

They bore me along the outer moat to Mito Yashiki and through the great gate into the grim torture chamber. Without loosening the rattan withes that cut my flesh, they dropped me into a dungeon pit built beneath the stone floor of the chamber. I was flung in headlong, but managed to turn in the air and alight upon my feet. Otherwise I believe the fall would have proved fatal. Had I been stunned, I must have smothered in the ankle-deep slime that covered the bottom of the pit.

Even as it was, I could not hold my balance with my bound feet, squarely as I struck. I sprawled prone in the filth. As I struggled up to a sitting position, Keiki flung down a torch at me. The flaming end tore and seared the skin of my naked side and glanced down into the slime with a loud splutter.

“Hear the snarl of the tojin beast!” he jeered. “We have been told much of frogs in the well. Mito can now tell of the toad in the pit.”

With this a great stone was clapped over the mouth of the dungeon, and I was left to the misery of my fetid quarters and the anguish of my thoughts. The moistening of my bonds in the slime eased somewhat the pain of their incutting edges. But nothing could ease my mental agony.

Since the first I had been as it were dazed by the disaster that had befallen me. Now I no longer had the presence of my enemy to sustain the anger that had added to my bewilderment. Cold horror dampened my fury even as the dank air of the dungeon chilled my fevered body. As my brain cooled I began to realize with frightful clearness the full measure of my downfall. One hour, Prince of Owari, in all Yedo second to none other than the Shogun,—the next, a despised barbarian toad in this pit of filth. One hour, the bridegroom of the Shogun’s daughter,—the next, an outcast menaced with atrocious torture and infamous execution.

In vain I sought to gain a shred of hope by wild thoughts of rescue. Always I came back to the bitter realization that Mito had outwitted Owari. Backed by the Mikadoic decree, Mito was all but unassailable. Armed with the authority of the Shogunate, old Rekko and his faction held the sword above Owari, eager for a sign of rebellion. My father had forewarned me that he could do nothing if the Shogun commanded my punishment. I thought of Satsuma and the power of his personality with a momentary glimmer. If Mito failed to bar his way to the palace, the great Daimio could reach Iyesada through his daughter. Iyesada would command Abe, and then—

But Abe had called upon the tiger for aid, and had been lured on until he had put his head into the tiger’s mouth. He would have enough to do to extricate himself and his master, without troubling over the difficulties of a tojin toad in Keiki’s pit. All was lost to me, all!—my new country and friends, rank and title, father and mother, and—Azai!

I had to thank the mephitic gases of the dungeon for a merciful dulling of consciousness. With the single opening at the top covered over, the air became so close and foul that I sank into a stupor. I cowered lower in the slime, with my chin fallen forward on my breast. My anguish resolved itself into hideous unending nightmares.

A sharp pang in the front of my left breast roused me from my torpor. About me I saw the loathsome walls of the dungeon illumined by a ray of reflected sunlight. The darting pain in my breast redoubled in sharpness. I was jerked upright. A pole had been lowered through the hole above me, and the hook upon its end had been slipped under my left arm. When drawn up, the point of the hook had pierced the muscles of my chest. Strong hands hoisted me roughly upwards to the mouth of the pit. I was swung out and cast down upon the stone flagging of the torture chamber. The shock won a groan from me where even the hook had failed.

“The toad croaks!” jeered a voice I should have known had I been dying. Numbed by my bonds I could scarcely twist my head about to glare my hate into his beautiful evil face. He smiled and bowed low to me. “Behold the bridegroom, fresh come from his bridal chamber! Ten thousand felicitous years!”

“My lord will not permit the beast to stand unwashed before the presence of the august Rekko Sama,” remarked one of the chamberlains who stood beside Keiki. “The august Prince abhors stenches.”

“Let hot water be brought,” commanded Keiki. “It were a shame to defile even an eta’s bath with the filth of a tojin toad.”

At the word, attendants clattered out to fetch buckets of steaming water. The first bucketful was so near scalding that I writhed under it like an eel in the pan. Others, no less hot, followed in quick succession, while men with brooms scoured my parboiled skin and beat me between the drenchings. I thought I should die of the torture.

Yet the water was not quite hot enough to scald me, and between it and the scouring brooms, I was cleansed of the dungeon filth. No surgeon could have bathed my wounds more thoroughly. My violent gasps pumped the pure air deep into my poisoned lungs, and the heavy throbs of my heart sent the blood tingling through my benumbed limbs and brain. When Keiki gave command to cease the washing, I lay outstretched on the wet stones, bruised and aching from head to foot, but freed from all the ill effects of the pit.

“My august father will now view the snow white skin of the tojin sama,” said Keiki. “Cut loose the ankle withe.”

The rattan about my ankles was slashed apart, and I was jerked to my feet. Though weak and unsteady, I was able to stand unaided. Prodding dirks drove me across to the front of the torture chamber, where a frame with curtains of split bamboo had been set up on the matting of the raised floor. Keiki stepped up and kowtowed beside the frame. I heard no sound, but presently he turned and addressed me with mock courtesy: “The tojin sama is requested to exhibit to august eyes the manners of his people.”

I stared at the centre of the curtain, through which I fancied that I saw the outline of a seated figure.

“The Prince of Mito is said to regard tojins as midway between beasts and demons,” I replied. “He will have ample opportunity to judge of tojin manners when the black ships of my people return to Yedo Bay.”

“Woroto Sama will not be so unkind as to compel the august one to wait an uncertain event,” purred Keiki. “Request is made that he show the behavior of a tojin of low birth who has been overcome with drink.”

“It is evident that Rekko Sama seeks to ape the tricks of the shoguns with the Dutchmen,” I rejoined. “There is this difference—Rekko Sama is not yet Shogun, and I am not a Dutch tradesman.”

Keiki’s smile deepened, and he murmured imploringly: “Yet will not the American lord condescend to exhibit the manner in which a daimio of his people salutes his bride?”

Had my hands been free I must have leaped upon the raised floor and throttled him or been killed in the attempt. I bowed over and waited until I had regained my self-control. My reply was uttered as suavely as his jeer: “In my land there is an inferior people, smooth-faced and not white-skinned. They are a race of base savages, who, until conquered and subjected by my people, delighted in the torment of their captives.”

Across Keiki’s face flitted a look that might have done credit to an Iroquois or Sioux warrior dancing before the stake of a burning enemy. He was defeated on his own ground. There was a short pause. I fancied that I heard a murmur. Keiki signed with his fan, and waved me aside.

Behind where I had been standing was a post similar to the one in the torture chamber of the High Court. A screen slipped open, and two etas appeared with a woman between them. As they crossed to the post the woman raised her head. It was Kohana San. She smiled and bowed to me as if I had been seated before her in the state audience hall of Owari Yashiki. She would have kowtowed had the pariahs loosened their brutal grip of her rounded arms. Keiki looked at her with a devilish smile.

“The complicity of the geisha in the crimes of the barbarian is established,” he said. “She may yet win the mercy of a swift death by confessing her knowledge of the barbarian’s intent to betray Nippon to his countrymen.”

“Keiki Sama already has the answer of the geisha,” replied Kohana in her clear bell-like voice. “Woroto Sama came to serve Dai Nippon, not to betray.”

“Kohana forgets. We will aid her memory,” mocked Keiki.

The eta torturers dragged the girl to the post and lashed her fast. A silk cord was looped around her head and twisted tight with a stick.

“Speak!” commanded Keiki.

“The truth has been told,” she replied.

The torturer with the stick began to twist. At the first shriek I bounded forward to fling myself upon the etas. Guards rushed between and bore me back. The shrieks died away in a moan. Kohana had swooned. The cord was relaxed, and a pungent powder held to the girl’s nostrils. She revived.

“Speak!” commanded Keiki.

“The truth has been told,” she gasped.

Keiki made a sign, and the torturer again twisted the cord. As it tightened, the agony became greater than the girl could bear.

“Wait!—Have mercy!” she screamed.

“Loose the cord,” commanded Keiki, and he cast an exultant look at me. “We shall now learn the truth.”

For a few moments the tortured girl’s bosom rose and fell in gasping sobs. At last she summoned strength enough to lift her head and speak. But it was not Keiki whom she addressed. Her voice rang out in the ecstasy of self-sacrifice: “My Lord Yoritomo! can it be they think I will lie to harm thy friend?—To thee, my august lord, the last word of thy humble servant!”

She paused. Blood gushed from between her lips. Her head sank forward. One of the etas wrenched open her mouth, and cried out that she had bitten off her tongue. Love had triumphed over hate. The most frightful torture could not now compel the geisha to denounce the friend of her dead lord.

For a moment I thought that Keiki would hurl himself upon the heroic girl. A low murmur came from behind the bamboo curtains. Keiki signed to the etas. “Return the traitress to the cage until the time appointed for her crucifixion.”

“Demon!” I cried. “Beast! Aino!”

A guard struck me a violent blow across the mouth.

“Fling the toad back into his slime hole!” commanded Keiki.

“The nobles of Nippon are civilized!” I gibed at him between my bleeding lips.

The shot struck, though not where I had aimed.

“Stay!” commanded a stern voice from behind the curtains. “The barbarian beast shall have no justification for his revilement of Mito. Let the sentence and warrant be shown him, and let him be caged as a condemned daimio.” I had touched the vanity of the hidden Prince of Mito. Keiki bent to mutter a protest. For answer, two documents were thrust out between the slits of the bamboo curtain. Keiki mustered his courtier’s smile, and turned to open the documents before me, that I might see their vermilion seals.

“‘The sentence of the High Court, condemning to death Woroto the tojin for discharging a firearm in Yedo—’” he began.

“The Prince of Mito knows that this unjust sentence was annulled by the express command of Minamoto Iyeyoshi,” I interrupted.

“The Prince of Mito has received the sentence of the High Court and the warrant of the Council of Elders,” replied Keiki suavely. “No order of annulment had been received from Minamoto Iyeyoshi.”

To this I had no answer. There could be no doubt of the duplicity of my enemies. The entire proceeding was illegal. But I was absolutely in their power. To have cried out in protest would have served only to gratify their malice. Finding that I remained silent, Keiki made a sign. I was led past the gaping mouth of the pit, and out through a low opening, into a room lined with wooden cages.

A samurai covered my wounds with plasters of dampened paper; a tattered silk kimono was wrapped about me, and I was thrust into one of the cages. After a time food and tea were brought and set in between the massive bars. To my astonishment, I discovered that I was ravenously hungry. I devoured the food, and stretched out upon the rough planks of my prison cell, overcome with plethora and exhaustion. A heavy sleep came to ease my aching body and racked brain.