He and his men dismounted, and Sano ordered the sentries, "Tell Major Kumazawa I've brought his daughter home."

The sentries rushed to open the gate. Sano found himself in a courtyard lit by fires in stone lanterns outside the mansion, a low, half-timbered building raised on a stone foundation. Rain trickled off the overhanging eaves. Major Kumazawa rushed out the door, trailed by a gray-haired woman. They halted on the veranda. Deja vu assailed Sano. Images surfaced from the depths of his mind.

He had a vision of this same courtyard, of Major Kumazawa and this woman who must be his wife. But they were younger, their hair black, their faces unlined. Sano heard a woman pleading and weeping, somewhere out of sight. Dizziness and chills washed through him. For a moment he couldn't breathe.

His vision was a memory. He had come here before. But when? And why?

The images, sounds, and sensations vanished as Major Kumazawa and his wife hurried to the palanquin. Major Kumazawa opened the door. Inside, Chiyo lay motionless, covered by a quilt that Sano had bought in a shop. Her eyes were closed, her head wrapped in a white cotton cloth stained with blood.

Major Kumazawa's wife cried out in dismay. The major demanded, "What happened to her?"

He didn't thank Sano for bringing Chiyo home. Detectives Marume and Fukida frowned at this affront to their master, but Sano recalled how he'd felt when re united with his own kidnapped child. Courtesy had been the last thing on his mind.

"There's a cut on her head," Sano said. That, as he'd discovered, was the source of the blood on her clothes. "She hasn't any other injuries, as far as I could see. But you should send for a doctor."

Major Kumazawa barked orders to the servants who appeared on the veranda, then asked Sano, "Where did you find her?"

"On a street in Asakusa district," Sano said.

"I'll bring her in the house." As Major Kumazawa lifted his daughter, she awakened. She began to struggle.

"No!" she cried. "Don't touch me! Go away!"

"It's all right, little one," Major Kumazawa said, his voice as gentle as if he were talking to a child. "It's Papa. You're home safe now."

Her struggles ceased; she quieted. "Papa," she whispered.

As he carried her toward the house, his wife bustled along with them, stroking Chiyo's pale, muddy cheek, murmuring endearments. Major Kumazawa looked over his shoulder at Sano.

"I'm indebted to you," he said gruffly. "If you and your men would like to come in, please do."

"Right this way, Honorable Chamberlain," said a servant.

Sano could tell that his uncle didn't want him here, but he was curious to see the house. Perhaps it would trigger more memories. Furthermore, Sano had a stubborn streak.

"Come on," he told his detectives, and followed the servant inside the mansion.

They left their shoes and swords in the entryway. They were led down a corridor with polished cedar floors, past rooms concealed behind lattice and paper partitions. They arrived in a reception room with a dais backed by a landscape mural and an alcove that held a vase of chrysanthemums. The house seemed familiar to Sano, but only because it had the same architecture and decor as other samurai homes including his own. His own was much bigger than this, but he looked at his uncle's home through the eyes of the child he'd once been.

His family had lived in a tiny house behind the martial arts school that his father had operated. Compared to that, Major Kumazawa's estate was a palace. Sano thought of how his mother must have felt, banished to what had surely seemed like squalor to her. He recalled days when food had been scarce, winters when their house had been freezing because they couldn't afford enough coal. He knew his mother had suffered more than he had.

Major Kumazawa must have known about her poverty. He could have helped but hadn't.

Sano thought of the memory he'd experienced outside. He tried to dredge it up into the light where he could examine it, but it slipped away, elusive as a ghost.

After a long interval, Major Kumazawa entered the room. "Chiyo is being cared for by her mother and her maids." He gestured to Sano and the detectives and said, "Please sit."

Sano knelt in the position of honor by the alcove, the detectives near him. Major Kumazawa seated himself on the dais. He didn't offer refreshments, not that Sano would have accepted. Major Kumazawa was clearly ill at ease: He didn't like entertaining a stranger who was his blood kin and an outcast. Sano himself didn't exactly feel at home.

"I looked all over Asakusa district and didn't find Chiyo," Major Kumazawa said. "How did you find her?"

"I spotted her wandering in the rainstorm," Sano said.

"What a stroke of good luck." Then Major Kumazawa seemed to realize how ungracious he sounded. "But you brought my daughter back to me. I apologize for my bad manners." For once he seemed honestly contrite about how he'd behaved toward Sano. "A thousand thanks."

Sano bowed, accepting the thanks and the apology. He began to realize that Major Kumazawa's treatment of him wasn't entirely personal. Old samurai often became curmudgeons. If that was true of his uncle, Sano could live with it.

"How did Chiyo get there?" Major Kumazawa asked.

"It would seem that someone kidnapped her, then dumped her in the street," Sano said.

"Who?" Major Kumazawa clenched his fists; his expression tightened with anger.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sano said. "While I was tending to your daughter, I sent my men to look around the area. It was deserted because of the rain. They didn't see anyone."

Major Kumazawa brooded darkly. "Two days Chiyo was gone. Where was she? And what happened to her during all that time?"

The sound of a sob interrupted the conversation. Sano, the detectives, and Major Kumazawa looked up and saw Chiyo's mother standing in the doorway. Tears streaked her contorted face. Major Kumazawa rose and went to her. She whispered in his ear, then fled. He returned to his guests, clearly shaken.

"My daughter," he began, then swallowed and drew a deep breath. "When my wife undressed and bathed Chiyo, she saw… injuries. And blood." He finished in a low, broken voice, "My daughter has been violated."

Her torn clothes had suggested the possibility of rape to Sano, but he was dismayed to have his suspicions confirmed. Major Kumazawa sank to his knees, stricken with horror and anguish. Rape was a terrible thing to happen to a woman, perhaps worse than death. Rape contaminated her body and spirit, destroyed her chastity and her honor. Sano and the detectives bowed their heads in sympathy.

Indignation transformed Major Kumazawa's face into a hideous mask so flushed with red that Sano thought the man would burst a vein. "This thing that has been done to my daughter is a disgrace! But it's not against the law!"

Tokugawa law didn't recognize rape as a crime. Men could take their sexual satisfaction where they chose, against a woman's will, and not be punished. But Chiyo's case was different.

"Your daughter was the victim of a kidnapping," Sano said, "and she was injured. The violation constitutes an assault. Kidnapping and assault are both illegal. The law won't let whoever hurt Chiyo get away with it."

This rapist had earned a stay in prison and torture by the jailers. He could also be sentenced to live as an outcast for a term set by the magistrate. And since he'd chosen a victim with political connections, he might even get the death penalty.

Major Kumazawa grimaced. "Tell that to the police. They wouldn't do anything to find Chiyo. They won't catch her attacker. No," he said, pounding his fists on the floor. "If I want him punished, I'll have to do it myself. But first I'll have to find him." He fixed his bitter gaze on Sano. "I must trouble you for another favor. Will you help me catch the bastard?"