“But what about finding out what happened to the taxes?”

“I shall have to report failure. Unless...” Akitada frowned. “Unless Motosuke’s private papers account for the sums that were lost.”

“Oh.”

“I know. Requesting his private accounts amounts to a serious insult.”

Silence fell. Seimei hunched his shoulders and sighed.

“Very well,” said Akitada. “Call Akinobu.”

When the governor’s secretary came in and bowed, Akitada told him brusquely, “We have finished with the provincial documents and are ready to begin work on the governor’s personal accounts. Please bring them to us here.”

Akinobu paled. He stared at Akitada, then at Seimei, gulped, and said in a choking voice, “I shall relay your wishes to the governor, Excellency.”

Akitada looked after Akinobu and said to Seimei, “That was probably the most embarrassing thing I have ever had to do. Did you see the man’s face? He was shocked to the core.”

Seimei looked unhappy. “Akinobu is a very loyal servant and a learned man. I cannot believe that he would willingly serve a dishonest master.”

Akitada said nothing.

The secretary returned quickly. Placing two large document boxes before Akitada with a bow, he said, “My master wishes to express his gratitude for your trouble.” He paused, then continued without looking at Akitada, “I also am deeply obliged that you take such care to protect the governor, and myself as his servant, from suspicion. Please tell me how I may be of assistance.”

“Thank you,” said Akitada. “We will call if we have questions.”

When Akinobu was gone, Seimei and his master looked at each other.

“That was very generous of the governor,” said Seimei.

Akitada sighed. “I am afraid that it means there is nothing to be found, Seimei.”

He was right. In spite of a most thorough analysis of the holdings, incomes, and expenditures of Motosuke and his immediate family, they found nothing. The accounts were blameless and in perfect order. Not only had Motosuke not spent provincial funds for private use, he had drawn heavily on his private purse to improve the provincial headquarters and the governor’s residence.

“Well,” said Seimei, “at least you can return to the capital without having arrested your friend Kosehira’s cousin for fraud and treason.”

Akitada clenched his fists. “I have the feeling Motosuke is laughing at us. He knew all along we would not find anything. Any other man in his position would have been outraged when I demanded his private papers. I think the goods and the gold are hidden somewhere, and there is an accomplice. I’m convinced of it. Motosuke is too good to be true.”

“Let it go, sir,” Seimei pleaded. “It is hopeless. You can only hurt yourself and you may hurt an innocent man.”

“Remember the bribe!”

“If a man is truly guilty, his actions will return to him.”

Akitada shook his head and gave Seimei a crooked smile.

“You have a saying for everything, but I still have to find the missing taxes.”

“What about the local gentry? Owners of large estates keep small private armies to protect their holdings. Sometimes they turn to highway robbery or piracy.”

Akitada nodded and sent the servant for Akinobu.

“We have finished with these also,” he informed the secretary, pointing to the document boxes. “Perhaps you may know of landowners with large estates. Are they at all likely to keep armed retainers?”

Akinobu did not have to think at all. “We have only five families of the sort you mean, Excellency,” he said. “They are all absolutely loyal. The governor visited them personally after the first tax convoy disappeared to assure himself of their innocence. Four of them had sent their retainers to Hitachi province to quell a rebellion, and on the fifth estate, smallpox had broken out. Many people died, and so did the lord and his only son. His widow became a nun, and the estate went to a cousin.”

Apparently everyone had a blameless reputation in Kazusa province. “Tell me,” Akitada demanded, “whatyou think. Someone here is hiding an enormous amount of gold and valuable goods. Or do you also blame it on anonymous robbers in another province?”

Akinobu flushed. “No, Excellency,” he said miserably. “I think we overlooked something. The governor is really very distraught and hopes that you will succeed where we have failed.” Seeing Akitada’s disbelief, he knelt and said in a choking voice, “It has been a great shame to me that anyone should distrust my master, for it is I who bear the blame for not getting to the bottom of this. I am aware of my worthlessness and culpability, and shall so inform the authorities. Of course, my poor property will not make up the great sum, but I have begun to sell off my land, and by the time Your Excellency formally closes the case, I shall place all I own into your hands.” Before the surprised Akitada could find his tongue, he bowed, rose, and left the room.

“After him, Seimei,” cried Akitada. “Tell him to stop selling his land. Tell him we’ll try to find the culprit. Tell him ... Well, you’ll think of something.”

♦

The week after he finished inspecting the provincial accounts, Akitada paid visits to the lesser officials in the city. He went first to Captain Yukinari, the new commandant of the garrison. The young officer impressed him favorably. Yukinari quickly produced pertinent military records proving that all three shipments had left the province at the usual time of year and under guard. Yukinari’s predecessor had committed suicide after the second incident, and Yukinari had been sent as his replacement during the past summer. This fact and his subsequent efforts to clear up the mystery eliminated him as a suspect.

Akitada’s next quarry was the county prefect Ikeda, an appointed official who reported directly to Motosuke but who controlled his own staff and the constabulary of the provincial capital. Ikeda was a middle-aged man of nervous disposition with a habit of quoting statutes and regulations to support his every action. He denied any knowledge of the tax matter vehemently: it was not within his sphere of authority. He also protested against any suggestion of criminal elements at work within the city or in the surrounding prefecture. When pressed for suggestions on how the shipments might have disappeared, he mentioned highway robbers in the neighboring province of Shimosa. Akitada formed an image of the typical bureaucrat, lacking both the courage and the imagination to plan and carry out a crime of such magnitude.

By week’s end, Akitada and Seimei glumly reviewed the facts.

“The convoys could have been attacked in Shimosa, sir,” Seimei offered when told of Ikeda’s views. “That would explain why there was no news of them all the way from the capital to Sagami province. It also would solve all our problems and clear the governor.”