Tora did not answer. He had gone to pick up the reed mat he had thrown. It had fallen across another body, disarranging the mat covering it. Now he stood bent, staring down at the corpse’s shaven head.

“Amida!” he muttered. “Hito, come here and look at this. I could swear that’s the same scar on his ear as on the sick man at the Golden Carp. Remember, I told you about the poor bastard the widow was going to throw out in the street? I thought it looked like a mouse took a bite out of his earlobe. And this is just the same.” He slammed his fist into his hand. “By the Buddha, I bet it’s a secret sign. A gang mark. They both belonged to some secret society. Come on. We’ve got to tell the master.” Flinging the reed mat back over Kaibara, he dashed out the door, leaving Hitomaro to lock up.

♦

When Tora burst in with his news, Akitada was seated behind his desk. Things had gone from worse to disastrous, and he had not slept. The wound in his shoulder caused a constant searing ache that he had hidden from his wife. Tamako was unaware of his injury and distracted by the fact that Seimei had taken to his bed with chills and a bad cough. She had dosed him with his own concoction and he had finally slept. Akitada, on the other hand, had lain awake, worrying about Seimei, about the danger they were in, about the missing boy Toneo, and about the next day’s hearing. A vicious cycle of separate calamities kept him company until he rose at dawn.

But now he smiled at Tora. “Good,” he said. “I wondered what had become of you. Matters seem to have reached a critical point. I need all of you to stand by.”

Tora flushed. Falling to his knees, he bowed his head. “I was going to kill myself this morning, but Hito said you needed me.” He did not see Akitada’s astonishment nor his momentary amusement, and continued in a rush, “It’s true you sent me to check the horses before Kaibara came, but I was taking my time because I was afraid to come back. Afraid of the ghost, I mean, not that bastard Kaibara. But it was cowardly and it’s my fault you got hurt. Hito says I now owe you two lives instead of one and that you would need me to die fighting your enemies. So I decided not to kill myself.” He knocked his head on the floor three times and sat up.

Akitada said, “I understand, and Hitomaro is right. I do need you.”

Tora said fervently, “I’ll remember next time, sir.” He paused for a moment. “About that mutilated body. I just happened to look at it with Hito and I saw a mark on his ear. It’s just like one on the dying man at the Golden Carp.”

Akitada made a sharp move of surprise and gasped, reaching for his wounded shoulder. “Call Hamaya,” he croaked.

Hamaya came in, followed by Hitomaro. “Hamaya,” Akitada said through gritted teeth, “Send for Dr. Oyoshi.” Three pairs of eyes widened with concern. “No, wait,” he corrected himself. “Tell him it’s about one of the bodies, and to meet us in the storehouse. Hitomaro, you can report on the way. Tora, help me up.”

He staggered to his feet, holding Tora’s arm to steady himself against a bout of dizziness. “It’s nothing,” he murmured, when he saw Tora’s white face. “Remember, it was the same when I was wounded in the capital? They say losing blood leaves emptiness in the head. In time it will fill again.”

Tora nodded but looked unhappy. While the three men walked slowly to the storeroom, Hitomaro reported on his visit to the judge’s villa. Akitada listened without comment.

Dr. Oyoshi joined them at the storehouse door. His face was colorfully bruised, but his eyes were bright. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked Akitada.

“I shall be better when we get to the bottom of all these mysterious killings. In each case, it seems to me, we lack one crucial piece of information. Now perhaps Tora has found one for us. I want you to listen to what he has to say about the mutilated man, because it may jog your memory.”

Hitomaro unlocked the door, and they stood around the corpse. Tora lifted the mat and explained about the ear, offering his theory about a secret society.

At Tora’s first words, Oyoshi grunted and knelt, looking closely at the dead man’s face, chest, and tongue. Straightening up with a sigh, he said, “Of course. I made a terrible mistake, sir. How could I have forgotten, when I saw the man myself just a few days earlier! Tora is quite right. It is the poor fellow at the inn. He was dying of lung disease.” He shook his head. “I am getting old and incompetent. Please, forgive my carelessness, sir. I understand that I have caused you embarrassment and that this disqualifies me as coroner.”

There was an awkward silence. Then Akitada said sharply, “Nonsense. You reminded us repeatedly that you were dissatisfied with the diagnosis.”

“But how could it be the same man?” Tora asked, astonished. “The one at the inn was old. He had gray hair.”

Oyoshi said, “Someone shaved his head. That can change a man’s appearance amazingly.”

“It explains why you didn’t recognize him, Doctor,” Hitomaro said. “Besides, his face is pretty much destroyed.”

Oyoshi shook his head. “It is kind of you to make excuses for an old man, but in my profession we do not consider a patient’s looks but the symptoms of his disease. Those I should have recognized.”

“Come,” said Akitada, touching his arm. “I have had enough of this ... this self-recrimination from all of you.” He pointed to the four bodies stretched on the floor, almost filling the small room. “Look at them! The nameless guest from the inn. The old servant Hideo. The thug Koichi. And now Kaibara. If you add Sato, the innkeeper, we have five unsolved cases. And a missing child. Why should you blame yourselves for minor mistakes, when I have failed so grossly and completely in my duty?” For a moment he swayed on his feet, and Tora put out an arm to steady him.

“You should not be up, sir,” scolded Oyoshi. “Come, back to your room with you. I insist on bed rest until tomorrow.”

Akitada protested in vain. They walked him to his office, where Tora and Hitomaro spread some bedding and brought him tea.

Akitada drank it meekly and smiled. “I must be thankful that Seimei is too sick himself to concoct one of his vile brews,” he joked feebly.

“I look forward to meeting him,” said Oyoshi. “I may have just the medicine to make him better.” He sat down next to Akitada and felt his forehead. “As for you, you’re slightly warm, but that may be due to exertion. Rest is essential. You must avoid overheating yourself. By the way, you may be certain now that the man from the inn was not murdered. He was dying when I saw him. Even if Mrs. Sato threw him into the street after my visit, she could not properly be held responsible for his death.”

“Yes.” Akitada chewed on his lower lip. “I admit that’s a disappointment. The woman is detestable. However, though she may not be responsible for his death, she knows something about the conspiracy and who mutilated the dead man. Let her try to talk her way out of that!” He glanced at Tora and Hitomaro, who were hovering nearby. “Sit down, both of you. It’s time for a council of war.”