"And this newly-arrived cousin, what of him?"

"He was in the navy, and being of a quarrelsome disposition, was court-martialled for some small outbreak. He would not submit to discipline, and resigned the service. Then his father died, and Bob went off to South America. I have never heard of him since. I know very little about my younger uncle's household. Indeed, the occasion recorded by the photograph was the last time the old men met in friendship. There was a dispute about money matters. My Uncle Charles was in the city, the two estates being left by my grandfather to the two oldest sons. Charles Hume-Frazer died a poor man, having lost his fortune by speculation."

"Have you seen your cousin Robert? Did he resemble Alan and you?"

"We were all as like as peas. People say that our house is remarkable for the unchanging type of its male line. That is readily demonstrated by the family portraits. You have not been in the dining-room or picture-gallery at Beechcroft, or you must have noticed this instantly."

Brett flung himself into a chair.

"The Argentine!" he muttered. "A nice school for a 'quarrelsome'

Hume-Frazer."

He had calmed sufficiently to reach for his cigarette-case when Smith entered with a note, delivered by a boy messenger.

It was from Winter:

"Have found Okasaki. His name is now Numagawa Jiro, so you were right, as usual. He and Mrs. Jiro live at 17 St. John's Mansions, Kensington."

CHAPTER XI

MR. "OKASAKI"

In fifteen minutes Brett was bowling along Knightsbridge in a hansom, having left Hume with a strict injunction to rack his brains for any further undiscovered facts bearing upon the inquiry, and turn up promptly at ten o'clock next morning.

Although the hour was late for calling upon a complete stranger, the barrister could not rest until he had inspected the Jiro menage. No. 17 was a long way from the ground level. Indeed, the cats of Kensington, if sufficiently enterprising, inhabitated the floor above.

He rang, and was surveyed with astonishment by a very small maid-servant.

"Is Mr. Numagawa Jiro at home?" he inquired.

"No, sir, but Mrs. Jiro is."

An infantine wail from one of the apartments showed that there was also a young Jiro.

The maid neither advanced nor retreated. She simply stood stock still, petrified by the sight of a well-dressed visitor.

Brett suggested that she should inform her mistress of his presence.

"Please, sir," whispered the girl, "are you from Ipswich?"

"No; from Victoria Street."

"I only asked, sir, because master is particular about people from Ipswich. They upset missus so."

She vanished into the interior, and came back to usher him into the drawing-room. The flat was expensively furnished, but very untidy. He at once perceived, however, that the "former" Mr. Okasaki was not romancing when he boasted of his artistic tastes. The j.a.panese articles in the room were gems of faience and lacquer work.

The entrance of Mrs. Jiro drew the barrister's eyes from surrounding objects. He was momentarily stunned. The woman was almost a giantess, and amazingly stout. In a tiny flat, waited on by a diminutive servant, and married to a j.a.panese, she was grotesque.

Originally a very tall and fairly good-looking girl, she had evidently blossomed out like one of the gorgeous chrysanthemums of her husband's favoured land.

a.s.suredly she had acquired no j.a.panese traits either in manner or appearance. At first she seemed to be in a genuinely British bad temper, but Brett excelled in the art of smoothing the ruffled plumes of femininity.

"What is it?" she demanded, surveying him suspiciously.

"I wish to see Mr. Jiro," he said, "but permit me to apologise for making such an untimely call. As he is not at home, I must not trouble you beyond inquiring a likely hour to see him to-morrow."

He smiled so pleasantly that the lady became more complaisant.

"He may not be very long--" she commenced, but the youthful Jiro's voice was again heard in fretful complaint.

"My baby is not well to-night," she explained.

"Poor little darling!" said Brett.

He was tempted to add: "What is its name?" but refrained.

"Won't you sit down?" said Mrs. Jiro. "As I was saying, my husband may not be very long--"

She was fated not to complete that doubly accurate sentence, for at that moment a key rattled in the outer door.

"Here he is," she announced; and Mr. Jiro entered.

It was fortunate that the gravity of his errand, no less than his power of self-control, kept Brett from laughing. As it was, he smiled very broadly when he greeted the master of the flat, for the little man was small even for a j.a.panese.

The contrast between him and his helpmate was ludicrous. He could not possibly kiss her unless she stooped, nor would his arms encircle her shoulders.

"And how is my pretty _karasu_?" he asked, regarding his wife fondly.

"Don't call me that, Nummie!" she cried.

Turning to Brett she explained: "He calls me a crow, and says it is a compliment, but I don't like it."

"In j.a.pan the clow speaks with the voice of love," grinned Jiro.

"Well, it sounds funny in London, so just attend to this gentleman. He has come to see you on business."

Mrs. Jiro forthwith seated herself to listen to the conclave. Brett, though warned by the maid's remark, could not help himself, so he went straight to the point.

"Over a year ago," he said, "you were in Ipswich."

Instantly a severe chill fell upon his hearers. The man shrank, the woman expanded, but before either could utter a word, the barrister continued:

"Personally, I know no one in Ipswich. I have only visited the town twice, during an a.s.size week. It has come to my knowledge that you gave the police some information with reference to a j.a.panese weapon which figured in a noted crime, and I have ventured to come here to ask you for additional details."