“Wait!” he ordered, and his voice was sterner than any there had ever heard him use.  There was a fire in his eyes from which the man at his feet appeared to shrink.

“Soto,” the Prince said, and he spoke in his own language, so that no person in that room understood him save the one whom he addressed,—­“why have you done this?”

The man lay there, resting now upon his side, and supporting himself by the palm of his right hand.  His upturned face seemed to have in it all the passionate pleading of a dumb animal.

“Illustrious Prince,” he answered, speaking also in his own tongue, “I did it for Japan!  Who are you to blame me, who have offered his own life so freely?  I have no weight in the world.  For you the future is big.  You will go back to Japan, you will sit at the right hand of the Emperor.  You will tell him of the follies and the wisdom of these strange countries.  You will guide him in difficulties.  Your hand will be upon his as he writes across the sheets of time, for the glory of the Motherland.  Banzai, illustrious Prince!  I, too, am of the immortals!”

He suddenly collapsed.  The doctor bent over him, but the Prince shook his head slowly.

“It is useless,” he said.  “The man has confessed his crime.  He has told me the whole truth.  He has taken poison.”

Lady Grace began to cry softly.  The air of the room seemed heavy with pent-up emotions.  The Prince moved slowly toward the door and threw it open.  He turned towards them all.

“Will you leave me?” he asked.  “I wish to be alone.”

His eyes were like the eyes of a blind man.

One by one they left the room, Inspector Jacks amongst them.  The only person who spoke, even in the hall, was the Inspector.

“It was the Prince who brought the doctor here,” he muttered.  “He must have known!  At least he must have known!”

Mr. Haviland touched him on the arm.

“Inspector Jacks!” he whispered.

Inspector Jacks saluted.

“The murderer is dead,” he continued, speaking still under his breath.  “Silence is a wonderful gift, Mr. Jacks.  Sometimes its reward is greater even than the reward of action.”

They passed from the house, and once more its air of deep silence was unbroken.  The Prince stood in the middle of that strange room, whose furnishings and atmosphere seemed, indeed, so marvellously reminiscent of some far distant land.  He looked down upon the now lifeless figure, raised the still, white fingers in his for a moment, and laid them reverently down.  Then his head went upward, and his eyes seemed to be seeking the heavens.

“So do the great die,” he murmured.  “Already the Gods of our fathers are calling you Soto the Faithful.  Banzai!”