She nodded, and her eyes, inscrutable in their expression, fixed on her husband again. "What business did you have with that beggar two nights ago?" she asked him.

Kurata turned as white as bleached silk. "Wh . . . at b–beggar?" he quavered. "I saw no beggar. There was no beggar." His voice rose in panic.

His wife turned back to Kobe. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, brushed her black silk gown down again with her hands, and said in a toneless voice, "Someone came late in the evening. I was in my room and heard my husband let him in. Naturally I got up to see who it was. I saw an old and ragged man talking with my husband. They were in the corridor. I think the man was asking for red silk. My husband promised to give him some, and they went out the back way. A little later my husband came back. Alone."

Kurata wailed, "Don't believe her!" He fell to his knees, sobbing with fear. "She lies! She's angry because I had other women. That's why she's making up stories."

Kobe smiled. Again Akitada was reminded of a cat licking its whiskers in anticipation of a juicy meal. "Why the fuss?" he asked Kurata. "So you talked to a beggar. Is that any reason to start crying like a baby?"

Kurata wiped at his wet cheeks with a sleeve. "I . . . I don't know. All this is very upsetting . . . ."He staggered to his feet.

Kobe's smile widened. "I can see how it would be upsetting, when you are the one who strangled that beggar to keep him from talking."

"No, I—"

"Because that beggar," Kobe shouted suddenly, leaning forward to fix Kurata with his eyes, "was the one who saw you in the park the day you murdered the girl."

Kurata's eyes were wide with fear. He seemed incapable of looking anywhere but at Kobe. "No, no, I didn't . . . he didn't . . ."

"The girl Omaki. The one you gave the brocade sash to. Red figured brocade, remember! A pretty present for a pretty mistress. She wore it because you had given it to her. And you used it to strangle her."

Kurata's knees buckled and he collapsed on the floor, wailing, "No, no, no, no."

His wife looked down at him dispassionately. "You have dishonored the name my father gave you," she said loudly. "I shall petition the family council to rescind the adoption and expunge you from the family register. I also divorce you." Turning away from the moaning creature on the floor, she looked around the room. "You are all my witnesses."

Akitada was familiar with the legal terms of divorce and adoption; Mrs. Kurata evidently was also. She had, at this moment and in front of witnesses, divorced her husband and taken back the family name. That she had done so without hesitation or show of emotion, without any explanations, shocked him profoundly. He had believed women to be softer, more emotional, less coldly practical. Even years of grief from a faithless husband should not end like this, with a wiping out of every bond as if it had never existed.

Tora bent down to Akitada and whispered, "What a she-devil! I could almost pity that bastard."

Kobe was watching Kurata, who was Kurata no more, but a nonperson at the mercy of the law, even less likely to escape its full cruelty than the beggar Umakai.

Belatedly, the man became aware of his change in status and its implications. He raised himself to his knees and crept towards Mrs. Kurata, whimpering, "Take it back! Please, my treasure, do not do this dreadful thing! Remember our vows! Remember my years of hard work in the business! I have been unjustly accused."

She watched him approach until he came to a halt before her and touched the hem of her silk gown. Then she kicked his hand away and spat in his face.

Kurata recoiled. "My wife," he cried hoarsely, the tears running down his face mingling with her saliva, "I did it for you, for us. That girl, she was going to make trouble and come between us. I didn't want that to happen. And that old tramp, he saw me closing the shutters and started jabbering about Jizo and the park. I had to shut him up. You can see that, can't you?" He started towards her again, extending a hand pleadingly.

Mrs. Kurata had listened, stone-faced. Now she turned to Kobe. "Captain," she said, "you have your confession. Please remove this person from the premises. The sooner I can get back to work, the better. I have customers waiting outside. As a single woman, I cannot afford to alienate them. Kurata's has a reputation to maintain."

Even Kobe looked stunned at her words, but he nodded and clapped his hands. The constables surrounded Kurata and jerked him to his feet. "Chain him and take him away!" Kobe ordered.

Kurata started screaming. He was bound and dragged away, still screaming, and the sound receded slowly in the distance.

They waited silently. Then Kobe turned to look at Akitada. "Unpleasant," he said, "but I thought you should see how it's done by us. Shall we go?"

Eighteen

The Prince's Friends

On their way home, Akitada and Tora stopped by the university to pick up some student papers Akitada had forgotten.

It was getting dark, though not noticeably cooler. Tora glanced at the sky and remarked, "We need rain. I haven't seen it this dry in years. It's a wonder there haven't been more fires."

Akitada nodded. The streets and courtyards of the university lay deserted, grass and weeds browned and dusty. The students were either in their dormitories or had left for visits with friends and relatives in the city. Guiltily Akitada remembered the little lord.

When he had gathered up the papers in his office he told Tora, "Let us pay a visit to Lord Minamoto. If he is not doing anything tomorrow, he might like to come for a visit."

They found the boy in his room, reading a book. He looked small and forlorn, but cheered up when he saw them. Bowing to Akitada, he said, "You are most welcome, sir. Have you come to report some news?"

Akitada smiled and sat down. "In a manner of speaking. We have solved the case of the murdered girl. It was mostly due to Tora's work. A silk merchant named Kurata was the culprit."

Lord Minamoto clapped his hands. "Oh, good for you, Tora!" he cried. Turning back to Akitada, he said, "So it was not poor Rabbit! I am glad you took an interest, sir. Is there no news about my case?"

"No. Not yet." Akitada looked around the small room. He thought again of the boy's great-uncle. Could the man not have done something for this child? Aloud he asked, "And you? Any plans for tomorrow?"

The boy's face darkened. "No, sir."

"Well then, perhaps you might like to visit us?"

The young face lit up. "Oh, could I? Thank you. Will you be there, Tora?"

Akitada answered for Tora. "Probably. Also my mother, my two sisters, and I."

Blushing, Lord Minamoto apologized, saying politely, "Please forgive my rudeness, sir. I am looking forward to meeting your family and having an opportunity to converse with you."

Akitada rose. "Good. Tora will come to pick you up right after your morning rice."

The boy stood also. "I shall be very happy to get away for a while," he confided. "There have been some new men working outside. They keep staring into my room and they give me the shivers. I think they look more like rough types, bandits or pirates, than servants. One of them was sweeping the veranda, but he does not know how to use a broom."