Lieutenant Katura stood in the long counting-room of the Okugawa Bank, a film of despair over his eyes, while Toruma and Hata, their words exhausted, looked on helplessly. Just then a young man, perhaps an American, well-dressed, keen, hustling and alert, bustled up to them.

“Will you pardon my addressing you?” he asked. “I was at the American Club, and from the look on your face, sir, I fear that you may have been made the butt of too rough a piece of work.”

“What do you mean, sir?” hastily asked Lieutenant Toruma, for Katura seemed incapable of speaking.

“Why, I saw you three on your way out through the crush around the coat room,” explained the stranger. “With you was one of my countrymen, I should judge.”

“An American, yes,” Toruma nodded.

“I saw him play a little trick on your friend here,” nodding at Katura. “At the time I did not think much about it, and I might have forgotten it, had not business brought me here. But my first look at you made me feel certain that something was wrong.”

“Something is wrong,” replied Lieutenant Toruma quickly. “But what was it that you saw near the coat room of the American Club?”

“I saw my countryman slip his hand in one of your pockets, sir,” continued the stranger, addressing Katura. “He took out some small object—a lacquer box, I should say, but I cannot be sure.”

“It was a lacquer box!” cried Katura, a fierce light leaping to his eyes, while his face, first paling, next turned to a deep red hue. “It is a lacquer box that I have just missed.”

“And Mr. Darrin remarked that he felt much tempted to steal it,” broke in Lieutenant Hata.

“Be still, Hata, please,” begged Katura, recovering his own dignity. “Mr. Darrin is an American officer and a gentleman, not a thief!”

“I trust I haven’t intruded, and that I haven’t made any trouble,” the stranger went on, hastily, “but you appeared to me to be in so much trouble that, as a gentleman, I felt I must speak to you.”

“And I thank you from the bottom of my heart, sir!” cried Katura, his eyes once more gleaming fiercely, despite the gentleness of his words.

“It was probably all a joke,” the stranger smiled, “but I am glad if I have been able to save you from any anguish of mind. Of course you will see my countryman—Barron, did you say his name is? I know that I may rely upon you all not to bring me into the matter.”

“You may depend upon us for the courtesy that is due to one gentleman from others,” promised Lieutenant Toruma.

Then, as their informant left them, the three Japanese held swift, sorrowful conference.

“Of course we must go to the hotel at once and see Mr. Darrin,” proposed Toruma.

“I feel that it will be necessary,” bowed Katura. “But let none of my friends suspect that it was more than a joke. An American officer and gentleman could not be an intentional thief.”

“Even as a joke it was in very, very bad taste,” declared Lieutenant Hata slowly and gravely.

“Say not so,” urged Katura. “Let us say nothing, and suspect or accuse no gentleman.”

“But let us go to the Imperial Hotel as fast as possible,” urged Lieutenant Toruma.

“By all means,” agreed Hata.

So Katura, who was sorrowful and dazed, felt thankful that he had loyal friends with him to do his thinking for him at this moment.

Not many minutes were needed for reaching the Imperial. Three little Japanese officers, with smiling faces, entered and went to the desk in the hotel office.

“We desire to see Mr. Darrin of the American Navy,” declared Toruma, speaking in Japanese to the clerk, who was a fellow-countryman.

“I regret much to say that Mr. Darrin is out,” replied the clerk.

“Then may we do ourselves the honor of waiting until your guest returns?” asked Hata.

“Officers of his majesty the Emperor will confer distinction upon this poor hotel by deigning to wait,” replied the clerk.

So the three Japanese officers walked into a parlor, where they took seats, knowing that they would be notified when Ensign Darrin reappeared at the hotel.

At about this time, Belle, who had been absent from her rooms for a few moments, was looking diligently for the note that had accompanied the lacquer box.

“I closed and locked the door when I went out, so I can’t understand what has happened to that note,” mused Belle Darrin perplexedly, as she hunted about the room.

The medallion itself still lay on the table, but to that the young wife now paid no heed.

So much did the disappearance of the note perplex her that Belle spent some minutes in the vain search for it.

At last, a perplexed frown on her face, she again picked up the lacquer box and stood gazing at the exquisite, precious medallion.

Below, Dave entered the hotel. He passed quickly through, going to the stairs.

Not immediately did he go to his apartment. First of all he turned down a corridor on the second floor to speak to Lieutenant Barbes from the “Katahdin.”

But the clerk, who saw Dave pass through the lobby, himself stepped into the parlor where the three Japanese lieutenants waited. Bowing very low, the clerk informed them that Mr. Darrin had returned and had gone to his apartment.

“The number of that apartment?” cried Toruma.

The clerk gave the number, forgetting to add that Mrs. Darrin was also there. Nor did the Japanese officers remember that Dave was married.

So, Toruma leading the way, the three filed up the stairs, sought the apartment, and knocked on the door.

Inside, Belle, the lacquer box in her hand, and supposing that it was a servant who had knocked, stepped over to open the door.

And there she stood in the doorway, the lacquer box in her hand, the medallion plainly showing.

The eyes of the three young officers immediately turned toward that priceless heirloom, not a betraying sign came to their faces.

“A thousand pardons, madam,” begged Toruma. “We have knocked at the wrong door. We sought the apartment of Mr. Darrin.”

“Then you have found the right door,” smiled Belle. “I am Mrs. Darrin. Unfortunately, my husband is out.”

“We were wrongly informed that he had returned,” apologized Toruma, bowing low. “We crave a thousand pardons, and hasten to withdraw.”

“Shall I tell Mr. Darrin who called?” asked Belle.

“We shall do ourselves the honor to see Mr. Darrin soon after he returns,” replied Lieutenant Toruma sweetly, in a voice in which there was no suspicion of menace.

“Who asks for me, gentlemen?” hailed a merry voice, as Ensign Dave Darrin rounded a turn in the corridor, and came upon the party. “Toruma? Katura? Hata? This is a pleasure.”

“We shall go to the main parlor below,” said Toruma courteously, taking the hand that Dave extended, as did the others. “May we hope to see you there, sir, at your own convenience?”

“I will be down inside of five minutes,” Dave promised lightly, and the Japanese bowed themselves away.

Unconsciously Belle had thrown behind her the hand that held the lacquer box. For that reason Dave did not see it until he had stepped inside and had closed the door after him.

Then, of a sudden, young Mrs. Darrin remembered her surprise, and held forward the box in such a way as to display the medallion lying in it.

“I have something strange, Dave dear, to tell you about this,” she announced.

With an astonished cry Dave caught up the box.

“Why it is—it must be—the heirloom that Katura showed me at the American Club this morning,” he uttered.

“Mr. Katura’s?” echoed Belle.

“Yes. And so he came here and offered it to you? Belle, my dear, we cannot accept such—”

“Oh, do you think it could have been Mr. Katura who sent it to me?” the young wife asked.

“Sent it to you? Don’t you know who gave it to you?” Ensign Darrin asked, in amazement. “Didn’t he hand it to you just now?”

“Oh, no, indeed!” Belle exclaimed. “Listen, Dave.”

Thereupon Mrs. Darrin related all she knew of the matter. She and Dave spent some minutes together in hunting for the strange note, which could not be found.

“No use in looking any further,” Darrin declared, at last. “Besides Katura is waiting for me below. I will take this medallion back to him. Certainly he can clear up the matter for me.”

Full of uprightness of purpose Dave Darrin started below, to face a storm that was certain to be past his comprehension.