"Oh, well," said Nishioka, "it is enough to send the police after him. As for me, I've had my eye on someone else . . . which should prove amusing while we await Ishikawa's arrest." His eye fell on their bowls, his own empty and Akitada's abandoned long ago, and he recalled belatedly his duties as host. "You did not enjoy your food," he said. "Never mind. I have saved the best for last."

He jumped up and ran inside to rummage among his books. "Ah. Here they are!" he cried, coming back with a small wooden box which he carried tenderly in both hands. He lifted the lid and held it out to Akitada with a proud smile. The box was completely empty. They realized the fact simultaneously. Nishioka gaped at the box. "What . . . ? I cannot imagine . . ." He shook the box and held it upside down in the irrational hope that the contents would materialize after all. "They are gone!" he said in a stunned tone. "I could have sworn the box was half full last night. Well, it can't be helped. I was going to offer you some of my special walnuts to round out the meal. I know an old woman who makes them to perfection. It's a special recipe; she roasts them after they've been boiled in saltwater. They are my one weakness." He closed the box and tossed it carelessly back into his room. "I'll have to get a new supply and then you shall taste them."

Akitada expressed polite gratification.

Nishioka nodded. "Anyway, I intend to lay my deductions before Kobe this afternoon. It will take his mind off that silly gossip about the bets. Would you like to come along?"

Akitada shook his head and rose. "I have another class and a meeting," he said vaguely. Thanking Nishioka for his lunch, he walked back lost in thought.

Nishioka's summation of the case had not been without interest after all. Though Akitada had not agreed with Nishioka's interpretation, his own suspicion did not fit the facts too well either. However he certainly believed with Nishioka that Ishikawa was involved and had to be found.

When Akitada entered his classroom, he found a neatly tied package on his desk. It was addressed to him in Seimei's hand, and Akitada undid it eagerly. Inside was the list of merchants who had supplied goods for the poetry contest and a thick stack of papers concerned with the extensive Minamoto properties. A brief note by Seimei prefaced the latter. Young Sadamu was the principal heir. Seimei had not found any evidence of malfeasance, but many of the recent financial transactions bore the mark and seal of Sakanoue. Akitada put the Minamoto papers aside for later study and picked up the list of merchants.

Running his finger down the list, he found the name he had expected to see.

Seventeen

The Brocade Sash

During the afternoon lessons, Akitada's mind kept drifting off to the three cases. Having seen Seimei's list, he was now anxious to get Tora's report to confirm the identity of Omaki's killer. Moreover, Nishioka's passionate pursuit of clues in Oe's murder caused in him a vague uneasiness which he could not explain, though he went over their conversation again and again. And every time he glanced at the bowed heads of his students, laboring mightily over a short essay, his eyes went to the little lord and he thought of the Yoakira puzzle. Why had Sakanoue ridden a strange horse?

When the big bell sounded the end of classes, the boys greeted its deep voice as eagerly as he. He watched them as they scrambled up, sketched their bows and rushed from the room.

Akitada straightened their desks and then his own papers. He was about to start home when Tora walked in.

"I was beginning to get worried," Akitada said, looking him over anxiously. "Are you feeling all right? And did you get the names of the merchants?"

Tora flopped down. "Yes, on both accounts," he said. "I gave your message to one of the constables at the gate and took off, figuring that they'd keep me there if I told the captain what happened in Rashomon. I don't trust those bastards. They would've wanted to know all about Hitomaro, the Monk and the other two. And you know I gave my word not to turn them in."

"Yes." Akitada frowned. "Are you afraid those hoodlums will come after you?"

"Them?" Tora looked shocked. "Never! They're all right. No, it's your law-abiding keepers of peace and order that scare the wits out of me. When they don't get the answers they want, they take it out of your hide."

Remembering the whippings the beggar Umakai had suffered, Akitada shuddered. "Surely not in your case," he said. "I would not permit it."

Tora guffawed. "And what could you do after they got through with me? Kobe'd tell you he was sorry his men made a mistake and got carried away a bit. Then he'd let you take me home for Seimei to put his salves on my raw backside. No thanks, I'm keeping my distance."

A brief silence fell. Akitada knew too well that the law practically obligated the police to use force during interrogations. Kobe was less cruel than most of his calling, but he prided himself on his effectiveness. He had ordered the bamboo to be used in questioning the senile beggar, and he would hardly hesitate to do the same with a young healthy fellow like Tora.

Tora took up his story again. "Anyway, after calling on the police, I went to the wine shop Hitomaro mentioned. Hitomaro and the Monk were sitting around looking hungry. I ordered some food and wine, and we had a nice little chat. I really like those guys. Especially Hitomaro. I figure he must be an ex-soldier like me. Or maybe even an officer, seeing he's got some class and book learning." Tora frowned. "Wonder what would make an officer quit the army. I asked him about that, but he got sort of cold and distant. Told me it was none of my business what they did."

Akitada said, "That was hardly polite when you were paying for their food and drink. I thought you'd have better sense. Clearly they are criminals hiding some unsavory activities. I wish you would stay away from them in the future."

Tora shook his head stubbornly. "No, sir, you're wrong about that. They're my kind of people. Hitomaro is a very superior sort of person and Monk, well, he's really kindhearted. I grant you, what Hitomaro said made me wonder if Monk was really a monk, but I'd rather he weren't. You should see him, sir! He's got some huge muscles in his shoulders and arms. The old woman who runs the place needed to shift a stack of rice sacks. The Monk picked them up four at a time and carried them under each arm like they were puppies. She says he's always real helpful like that."

"Well, I suspect they are fugitives. But enough of that. What about the merchants near the canal?"

Tora took a crumpled piece of paper from his sleeve, flattened it out and laid it on Akitada's desk. "I went to the warden for this. He's the same guy that pulled poor old Umakai from the canal and certified it as an accidental drowning. At first the lazy bastard refused to help me, but I told him it was official business and we were checking into his handling of the drowning victim. He folded like a wet paper fan. Couldn't write the information down fast enough."

"You did not tell him you were with the police, did you?"

"Of course not. Ministry of Justice."

Akitada choked down a laugh and reached for the paper. The warden had drawn a rough diagram of the streets, the canal, and the rectangular business properties backing up to the canal. Each rectangle was marked with its owner's name. Fortunately the warden's writing was better than Tora's. Akitada's finger went to one of the larger rectangles. "Look!"