How quickly a man’s fortune changed! By not going to the police, Akitada had caused Yoshiko’s death and his own arrest. Your actions will return to you, said the proverb. He had erred out of weakness, and now he was lost.

As he stumbled to his feet, his eyes fell on the red card and he saw again a young boy holding a black and white kitten and removing the red card from its teeth. He snatched it up.

“The card,” he said, holding it out to Kobe. “Look at it. It’s proof that I am innocent. Do you see the marks? Yoshiko’s kitten made those. When I went back the second time, that kitten was already dead. Poisoned.” He took a shuddering breath. “I have a witness. If you don’t believe me, ask for Jiro, one of the servants. He is only a boy but very bright and observant. He came to catch the kitten while I was with Koremori on my first visit. The kitten was playing with this card.”

Kobe took the card and looked at it. Akitada saw determination slowly giving way to doubt. Kobe said grudgingly, “Very well. If the boy remembers, I’ll reopen the investigation. If not, I shall be back for you.”

When Kobe had left, Akitada’s knees gave way and he sank on his cushion. But he was no longer afraid. Kobe, for all his coldness and lack of imagination, was a fair man and a good officer, and Jiro would remember. They would talk to Sakanoue and to Kenzo and to the other servants. Of course, Koremori’s will would be declared invalid, but blood money would not console Yoshiko’s family for her death. Akitada would always bear the guilt for that.

And there was still his mother.

But then Akitada thought of the boy Jiro and of the kitten and smiled. In the end the gods were always just.