CHAPTER II
"THE ROOST"
The day had been sluggish with the promise of summer, but the failingafternoon had brought a soft suspiration from the broad bosom of thePacific laden with a refreshing coolness. Along the Bund, however, therewas little stir. A few blocks away the foreign dive-quarter wasdrowsing, and only a single _samisen_ twanged in Hep Goon's saloon,where sailors of a dozen nationalities spent their wages while in port.At the curbing, under the telegraph poles, the chattering _rick'sha_coolies squatted, playing _Go_ with flat stones on a square scratchedwith a pointed stick in the hard, beaten ground. On the spotless matsbehind their paper _shoji_ the curio-merchants sat on their gaudy waddedcushions, while, over the glowing fire-bowls of charcoal in the innerrooms, their wives cooked the rice for the early evening meal. Theoffice of the Grand Hotel was quiet; only a handful of loungers gossipedat the bar, and the last young lady tourist had finished her flirtationon the terrace and retired to the comfort of a stayless _kimono_. In thedeep foliage of the "Bluff" the slanting sunlight caught and quiveredtill the green mole seemed a mighty beryl, and in its hedge-shadedlanes, dreamy as those of an English village, the clear air was pungentwith tropic blooms.
On one of these fragrant byways, its front looking out across the bay,stood a small bungalow which bore over its gateway the dubiousappellation "The Roost." From its enclosed piazza, over which a wistariavine hung pale pendants, a twisted stair led to the roof, half of whichwas flat. This space was surrounded by a balustrade and shaded by arounded gaily striped awning. From this airy retreat the water, farbelow, looked like a violet shawl edged with shimmering quicksilver andembroidered with fairy fishing _junk_ and _sampan_; and the subduedvoices of the street mingled, vague and undefined, with a rich danksmell of foliage, that moved silently, heavy with the odor ofplum-blossoms, a gliding ghost of perfume. Thin blue-and-white Tientsinrugs and green wicker settees gave an impression of coolness andcomfort; a pair of ornate temple brasses gleamed on a smoking-stand, anda rich Satsuma bowl did duty for a tobacco jar.
Under the striped awning three men were grouped about a miniatureroulette table; a fourth, middle-aged and of huge bulk, with a cynical,Semitic face, from a wide arm-chair was lazily peering through thefleecy curdle of a Turkish cigarette. A fifth stood leaning against thebalustrade, watching.
The last was tall, clean-cut and smooth-shaven, with comely head wellset on broad shoulders, and gray eyes keen and alert. Possibly no one ofthe foreign colony (where a Secretary of Embassy was by no means a _raraavis_) was better liked than Duke Daunt, even by those who neverattempted to be sufficiently familiar with him to call him by thenickname, which a characteristic manner had earned him in his saladdays.
At intervals a player muttered an impatient exclamation or gave amonosyllabic order to the stolid Japanese servant who passednoiselessly, deftly replenishing glasses. Through all ran the droningbuzz of bees in the wistaria, the recurrent rustle of the metal wheel,the nervous click of the rolling marble and the shuffle and thud of theivory disks on the green baize. All at once the marble blundered intoits compartment and one of the gamesters burst into a boisterous laughof triumph.
As the sudden discord jangled across the silence, the big man in thearm-chair started half round, his lips twitched and a spasm of somethinglike fright crossed his face. The glass at his elbow was empty, but heraised it and drained air, while the ice in it tinkled and clinked. Heset it down and wiped his lips with a half-furtive glance about him, butthe curious agitation had apparently been unnoted, and presently hisface had once more regained its speculative, slightly sardonicexpression.
Suddenly a distant gun boomed the hour of sunset. At the same instantthe marble ceased its erratic career, the wheel stilled and the youngestof the gaming trio and the master of the place--Philip Ware, a graceful,shapely fellow of twenty-three, with a flushed face and nervousmanner--pushed the scattered counters across the table with shakingfingers.
"My limit to-day," he said with sullen petulance, and flipping themarble angrily into the garden below, crossed to a table and poured outa brandy-and-soda.
Daunt's gray eyes had been looking at him steadily, a little curiously.He had known him seven years before at college, though the other hadbeen in a lower class than himself. But those intervening years had lefttheir baleful marks. At home Phil had stood only for loose habit, daringfad, and flaunting mannerism--milestones of a career as completelydissolute as a consistent disregard of conventional moral thoroughfarescould well make it. To Yokohama he was rapidly coming to be, in the eyesof the censorious, an example for well-meaning youth to avoid, anincorrigible _flaneur_, a purposeless idler on the primrose paths.
"Better luck next time," said one of the others lightly. "Come along,Larry; we'll be off to the club."
The older man rose to depart more deliberately, his great size becomingapparent. He was framed like a wrestler, abnormal width of shoulder andmassive head giving an effect of weight which contrasted oddly withaquiline features in which was a touch of the accipitrine, somethingironic and sinister, like a vulture. His eyes were dappled yellow anddeep-set and had a peculiar expression of cold, untroubled regard. Hecrossed to the farther side and looked down.
"What a height!" he said. "The whole harbor is laid out like achecker-board." He spoke in a tone curiously dead and lacking in_timbre_. His English was perfect, with a trace of accent.
"Pretty fair," assented Phil morosely. "It ought to be a good place toview the Squadron, when it comes in to-morrow morning. It must have costthe Japanese navy department a pretty penny to build those temporarywharves along the Bund. They must be using a thousand incandescents! Bythe decorations you'd think the Dreadnaughts were Japan's long lostbrothers, instead of battle-ships of a country that's likely to have arow on with her almost any minute. I wonder where they will anchor."
The yellowish eyes had been gazing with an odd, intent glitter, and intothe heavy, pallid face, turned away, had sprung sharp, evil lines, thatseemed the shadows of some monstrous reflection on which the mind hadfed. Its sudden, wicked vitality was in strange contrast to the tonelessvoice, which now said: "They will lie just opposite this point."
"So far in?" The young man leaning on the balustrade spoke interestedly.
"It seems as though from here one could almost shoot a pea aboard anyone of them."
"You might send me up some sticks of _Shimose_, Doctor," said Phil withsatiric humor, "and I'll practise. I'll begin by shying a few at thisforsaken town; it needs it!"
The big man smiled faintly as he withdrew his eyes, and held out hishand to the remaining visitor. The degrading lines had faded from hisface.
"I'm distinctly glad to have seen you, Mr. Daunt," he said. "I'vewatched your trials with your aeroplane more than once lately at theparade-ground. I saw the elder Wright at Paris last year and I believeyour flight will prove as well sustained as his. It's a pity you can'tcompete for some of the European prizes."
"I'm afraid that would take me out of the amateur class," was theanswer. "It's purely an amusement with me--a fad, if you like."
"A very useful one," said the other, "unless you break your neck at it.I wonder we haven't met before in Tokyo. I have an appointment to-night,by the way, with your Ambassador. Come in to see me soon," he said,turning to Phil. "I'm at home most of the time. Come and dine with meagain. I've only an indifferent cook, as you have discovered, I'mafraid, but my new boy Ishida can make a famous cup of coffee and I canalways promise you a good cigar."
"Doctor Bersonin's the real thing!" said Phil, when the other haddisappeared. "He's a scientist--the biggest in his line--but he's noprig. He believes in enjoying life. You ought to see his villa atKisaraz on the Chiba Road. He's worth a million, they say, and he mustmake no end of money as a government expert." He paused, then added:"You seem mighty quiet to-night! How does he strike you?"
Daunt was silent. He had seen that strange look that had shot across theexpert's face
--at the sound of a laugh! He was wondering, too, whatattraction could exist between this middle-aged scientist with his coldeyes and emotionless voice and Phil, sparkling and irresponsibleblack-sheep and ne'er-do-well, who thought of nothing but his own coarsepleasures. Frequently, of late, he had seen them together, at theater ortea-house, and once in Bersonin's motor-car in Shiba Park in Tokyo.
"You don't like him! I can see that well enough," went on Philaggressively. "Why not? He's a lot above any man _I_ know, and I'm proudto have him for a friend of mine."
"There's no accounting for tastes," returned Daunt dryly. "At any rate,I don't imagine it matters particularly whether I like Doctor Bersoninor not. There's another thing that's more apropos." He pointed to thedecanter in the other's hands. "You've had enough of that to-night, Ishould think."
Phil reddened. "I've had no more than I can carry, if it comes to that,"he retorted. "And I guess I'm able to take care of myself."
Daunt hesitated a moment. To-day's call had been a part of hisconsistent effort, steadily growing more irksome, to keep alive for thesake of the old college name, the _quasi_ friendship between them and toinvoke whatever influence he might once have possessed.
"I'm thinking of your brother," he said quietly. "You say his yacht cameinto harbor from Kobe to-day. He'll scarcely be more than a week in thetemple cities, and any train may bring him after that. You'll want allthe time you've got to straighten out. You'll need to put your best footforward."
A look that was not pleasant shot across Phil's face. "I suppose Ishall," he said savagely. "A pretty brother he is! He wrote me from homethat if he found I'd been playing, he'd cut his allowance to me totwenty dollars a week. I'd like to knock that smile of his down histhroat--the cold-blooded fish! _He_ spends enough!"
"He's earned it, I understand," said Daunt.
"So will I, perhaps, after I've had my fling. I'm in no hurry, and Iwon't take orders always from him! I've had to knuckle down to him allmy life, and I'm precious tired of it, I can tell you."
Daunt's eyes had turned to the broad expanse below, where the whitesails of vagrant _sampan_ drifted. In the road he could hear the sharptap-tap of a blind _amma_--adept in the Japanese massage which coaxessoreness from the body--as he passed slowly along, feeling his way withhis stick and from time to time sounding on his metal flute hischaracteristic double note. Across the moment's silence the sound cameclear and bird-like, very shrill and sweet.
"What business is it of his," Phil added, "if I choose to stay out herein the East?"
Daunt withdrew his gaze. "Take his advice, Phil," he said. "The Eastisn't doing you any good. You're doing nothing but dissipate. And--itdoesn't pay."
Phil gave a short, sneering laugh. "Why shouldn't I stay abroad if I canhave more fun here than I can at home?" he returned. "If I had my way,I'd never want to see the United States again! This country suits me atpresent. When I get tired, I'll leave--if I can raise enough to get outof town."
A flush had risen to Daunt's forehead, but he turned away without reply.At the stair, however, he spoke again:
"Look here, Phil," he said, coming slowly back. "Why not come up toTokyo for a while? It's--quieter, and it will be a change. I have alittle Japanese house in Aoyama that I leased as a place to work on myGlider models, but I don't use it now, and it's fairly well furnished.The caretaker is an excellent cook, too." He took a key from its ringand laid it on the table. "Let me leave this anyway--the address is onthe label--and do as you like about it."
Phil looked at him an instant with narrowing eyes, then laughed. "Tokyoas a gentle sedative, eh? And pastoral visitations every other day!"
"You needn't be afraid of that," replied Daunt. "I'll not come tolecture you. I haven't set foot in the place for a month, and probablyshan't for a month to come. Go up and try it, anyway. Drop the Bund andthe races for a little while and get a grip on things!"
Phil looked away. A sudden memory came to him of a face he had seen inTokyo--at one of the _matsuri_ or ward-festivals--a girl's face, ovaland pensive and with a smile like a flash of sunlight. Her _kimono_ hadbeen all of holiday colors, and he had tried desperately to pickacquaintance, with poor success. A second time he had seen her, on thebeach at Kamakura. Then she had worn a _kimono_ of rich brown, soft andclinging, and an _obi_ stamped with yellow maple leaves and fastenedwith a little silver clasp in the shape of a firefly. She was with aparty of girls bent on frolic; they had discarded the white cleft _tabi_and clog and were splashing through the surf bare-kneed. He could seeyet the foam on the perfect naked feet, and below the lifted _kimono_and red petticoat, the gleam of the white skin that is the dream ofJapanese women. A flush crept over Phil's face as he remembered. He hadhad better success that time. She had dropped her swinging clog and hehad rescued it, and won a word of thanks and a smile from her dark eyes.She herself had unbent little, but the girls with her were full offrolic and the handsome foreigner was an adventure. He had discoveredthat she spoke English and lived in Tokyo, in the ward of the _matsuri_.But though he had strolled through that district a score of times since,he had not seen her again.
"You're not a bad sort, Daunt," he said. "I don't know but I--will."
"Good," said Daunt. "I'll send a chit to my caretaker the first thing inthe morning, and I'll put your name on the visitors' list at the TokyoClub. Well, I must be off."
* * * * *
Phil saw him cross the fragrant close to the gate with a growing sneer.Then he threw himself on a chair and gazed moodily out across thedeepening haze to where, just inside the harbor breakwater, lay thewhite yacht of whose coming Daunt had spoken.
A bitter scowl was on his face. Far below, at a little wharf, he couldsee a tiny red triangle; it marked his sail-boat, the _Fatted-Calf_, sochristened at a tea-house on the river where he and other choice spiritsmaintained the club whose _geisha_ suppers had become notorious. Japan,to his way of life, had proven expensive. He had drawn on everyavailable resource and had borrowed more than he liked to remember, butstill his debts had grown. And now, with the coming of the white yacht,he saw a lowering danger to the allowance on which he abjectly depended.He knew his brother for one whom no plea could sway from adetermination, who on occasion could hew to the line with mercilessexactitude. Suppose he should cut off his allowance altogether. An uglypassion stole over his countenance. He sprang up, filled a glass fromthe decanter and drank it thirstily. With the instant glow of the liquorhis mood relaxed. He picked up the key from the table and stoodthoughtfully swinging it a moment by its wooden label. Then he put it inhis pocket and, looking at his watch, caught up a straw hat and wentbriskly down to the street.
He swung down the steep, twisting, ravine-like road to the Bund withless of ill-humor. He had no thought of the dark blue sky arching over,soft with vapors like a smoke of gold, or of the glimpses of the seathat came in sharp bursts of light between the curving walls thattowered on either side. He sniffed the thick, Eastern smells as a catsniffs catnip, his eye searching the stream of brown, shouting cooliesand toiling _rick'sha_, to linger on a satiny oval face under a shininghead-dress, or the powdered cheek of a gold-brocaded _geisha_ on her wayto some noble's feast.
At the foot of the hill, stood a sign-board on which was pasted a largebill in yellow:
AT THE GAIETY THEATER LIMITED ENGAGEMENT OF THE POPULAR HARDMANN COMIC OPERA COMPANY WITH MISS CISSY CLIFFORD
He paused in front of this a moment, then passed to the Bund. At itsupper end, near the hotel front, great floating wharves had been builtout into the water. They were gaily trimmed with bunting and electriclights in geometrical designs, and were flanked by arches covered withtwigs of ground-pine. A small army of workmen were still busied on them,for the European Squadron in whose honor they had been erected wouldarrive at dawn the next morning. Just beyond the arches, under a row oftwisted pines, were a number of park benches, and fro
m one of these agirl with a beribboned parasol greeted him.
"You're a half hour late, Phil," she complained. "I've been waiting heretill I'm tired to death." She made place for him with a rustle offlounces. She was showily dressed, her cheeks bore the marks of habitualgrease-paint and the fingers of one over-ringed hand were slightlyyellowed from cigarette smoke.
"Hello, Cissy," he said carelessly, and sat down beside her. In his mindwas still the picture of that oval Japanese face suffused with pink,those pretty bare feet splashing through the foam, and he lookedsidewise at his companion with an instant's sullen distaste.
"I had another row with the manager to-day," she continued. "I told himhe must think his company was a kindergarten!"
"Trust you to set him right in that," he answered satirically.
"My word!" she exclaimed. "How glum you are to-day! Same old poverty, Isuppose." She rose and shook out her skirts. "Come," she said. "There'sno play to-night. I'm in for a lark. Let's go to the Jewel-FountainTea-House. They've got a new juggler there."