be absorbed by the dreary violence of Mr. Stead. Kishimoto descended, alert and smiling. The apparition, thrusting a lady's visiting-card before his eyes, did not smile, but said rapidly :
"That's who I am. About that paragraph in yesterday's paper ; who wrote it?"
"It was our reporter, madam. He is not at the office to-day, but if you wish to make an appointment ——"
"Can he speak English?"
"No, madam, but I shall be pleased to put my services at your disposal, if I can be of any use. Personally my responsibility is limited to the English column, whereas ——"
"I know, I know. Well, just tell your reporter that my husband's real mad about this, and he don't intend to let it drop. Likely as not, he'll be round here with a horse-whip, if your editor don't make some kind of apology or explanation. Good-day to you."
The apparition disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. I looked reproachfully at Kishimoto. "Personal paragraphs?" I asked. "Are you trying to attack Americans with their own weapons? And why don't you leave ladies alone?" He explained that Mrs. Kurumaya, the pride of Idaho, was married to a Japanese professor, and had recently come to Tōkyō with her husband. As there happened to be a German from Idaho in the same hotel, the materials of a ménage à trois were too tempting to be neglected by a sharp penny-a-liner. Hence the paragraph, the scandal, and the apparition. "And what next?" I asked. "The editor will censure his informant, insert an apology, and banish the matter from his readers' memories by fresh paragraphs of a similar character."
