Part IV
Part IV
PART IV
THREE hours or so after Tsuya and Tokubey left, the midnight hour tolled, and on its stroke Shinsuké started out, disguised as a geisha’s attendant man. The Mukojima house in view was said to be found after six or seven minutes’ walk beyond the temple of the Akiba Jinjya, and almost close upon the rice field, making a part of the farm village of Terashima-mura; and he went by foot, directing his way as he had been informed. He had been advised to come in a palanquin over a good part of the journey which was a calculated matter of two long miles from their Nakacho house. However, it was his fond desire to absorb, as he went, such scenes as the town of Yeddo would offer under the spell of deep night, to permit himself this last indulgence, that he should feel deeply imprinted on his mind the imagery of this world whence he was soon to depart—never to return.
A step out of the Naka-cho, the place of garish lights and gaiety, the streets were shrouded in soulless gloom and silence; not a single housethat kept such a late hour. After his stay at the Tsuta-ya of these three days and two nights, pent up in the upstairs room, festered in the cloying pleasures of unbridled orgies, Shinsuké felt himself refreshed and even revived in the sobering coolness of the breezes with which the late, deserted night breathed. As he was passing by the end of the Azuma-bashi bridge, he was brought into a feeling that he was so near the homes of his old father and the man who had kept him under his protecting roof. He paused, brought his hands together in the very humbleness of spirit, as he faced far in the direction of each of their houses in turn, and asked their forgiveness, following the words of his silent prayer,—“My father, and Master Kinzo, forgive me, for to-morrow I go forth to meet justice!” When, after crossing the Makura-bashi bridge, he had come out along the riverside avenue stretched under the canopy foliage of the cherry grove, a waning moon of copper hue, hollowed out into an arching crescent, hung high overhead, mirrored on the face of the wide stream as if foreboding an evil it alone knew. He came to a halt to pause awhile before the sight of the black water moving on its hushed and sluggish course,and now to gaze at the stars arrayed over the open sky. At rare intervals, roofed dingeys carrying belated fares to the Yoshiwara came straggling, now by one and again by twos, and glided their furtive way up the deserted watercourse in the direction of the Sanya canal.
And, now, what could be the plot that Tsuya had on hand in concert with Tokubey, he mused wondering. So young yet her nerve!—such words that Kinzo brought back from his visit to the Naka-cho, the estimate in which the profession of the place summarily held Somékichi, seemed to dawn upon him in the light of truth. It had been his rueful thought that he could have lived on with Tsuya as man and wife, but for his murderous crimes. Yet, should the gossip in case be true, he could not have wedded her all the same, though he should have kept himself stainless. As he tried to reason out these things with himself, it seemed to make it easier for him to abide by his decision.—Turning over such a train of thoughts in mind as coming from his aggrieved mind, he followed the path down the bank of Mukojima.
The officer’s country villa at Terashima-mura was easily found. He was not exactly unprepared,when he heard the place styled as the country villa of an officer of the Shogun’s guards. Nevertheless, he viewed with surprise what was possible to be seen of the estate which appeared imposing in the darkness of night, the premises enclosed round by a wall of closely wattled bamboo laths, with a hedge grown closely behind it, altogether bespeaking the prosperous circumstances of the owner. Through a space at the door of the postern gate, he peered and saw that the door admitting to the ground plot in a corner of the kitchen was left open, two or three feet, even at such a late hour, to throw but a faint glow of light—but not a sound of voices.
“I come with the greeting of evening, from the geisha station of the Naka-cho.”
He announced himself as he stepped in through the gate, the closing panel of which he found unbolted.
“What brings you here from the geisha station at this hour?” demanded a man with the appearance of a servant, who stuck his head and a lantern out of the opened space of the kitchen door, trying to scrutinize him suspiciously, in the light thrown upon the late caller.
“Well,”—and Shinsuké gave an awkward laughfor an apology—, “I was sent to fetch Somékichi san—”
“What? To fetch Somékichi? I’ll slit your dirty mouth for saying that!” The man cut in with his invective speech. “—So, you’re one of the gang, too; but you come just too late! Your game is up, already. You thought you were going to make an ass of our Master and get away with a nice pot of money, didn’t you? Well, you have another tune to sing this time—”
Taken by storm, Shinsuké paused speechless and aghast, lost a while in a vague confusion of mind, when, suddenly, angry voices were heard way back within the house.
“Oi! You call me a swindler? Is your head as empty as your purse, now? You wanted the girl and gave her money—and now, bah! you call it a swindle! Blast the tongue that babbles it!” It was clearly Tokubey that was giving vent to his outraged mind.
“Now our game is spilt out, I am not going to squeal or mince my words. We did have—yes, you were right—a little thing between me and Tokubey here, and we were going to fleece you. And now, listen, Ashizawa san, if you were fool enough to be taken in, you just own yourselfbeaten and take it gamely, if you are a man,—and say no more about it. But if you are so sore that you can’t act in that style or haven’t sense enough to do it, why don’t you suit yourself—with your trinket knife, or pike, or anything else? But let me tell you, that you’re not going to get back your money,—I don’t care how much it is. What I have is mine, and will stay so. That’s said!”
There came now a spell of stillness within the house, a hush that might be likened to the calm before a storm,—broken only by the clear-ringing voice of Tsuya who went on with her taunting in all the steadiness she seemed to be possessed of.
A few more fleeting moments,—and Tokubey’s howling rage: “You pulled out the sword! You miserable penny soldier! Don’t swing your trinket so you chop your own noddle!”—Tsuya’s voice was raised in a shrieking yell. In the same moment, came noises of a violent scuffle, as of three or four people hurling themselves into struggling confusion.
Smashing against the screen; heavy thudding upon the floor; the sharp clash of blade against blade; a moment yet of suspense, suddenly followedby a shrill cry of pain. As suddenly almost, Tokubey came running out to the kitchen, his rotund face covered with blood. Close upon his heels, darted Tsuya, with her hair loose, only to be stopped short by an officer who had grabbed her by the collar from behind. She was jerked into a crushing heap under the sword swung up overhead, ready for an instant blow.
Without a word or a cry, Shinsuké sprang upon the floor from his place on the kitchen ground; he wound his arms round the officer’s right hand.
“All your anger is just; but she is not to blame! Spare her life, I beg!”
“Who are you?” the officer asked, as he turned to look, lowering the weapon. He discovered there a man with features of clear-cut, handsome lines, clean shaved, about thirty four or five years of age, dressed in a habutai silk suit of dark russet colour, and a sash of black velvet, altogether an appearance of neat respectability.
“I am a page sent out from the Naka-cho to fetch back Somékichi san. Be what it will, that has brought things to this pass, you are a man of too honoured a name and position. Please be lenient and save her—and your good self fromunnecessary scandal! I pray you to put that sword back in its sheath!”
“You shall be spared this night.” Thrusting her off, Ashizawa said: “And the money—whatever it is—you shall keep, for I shall call it a separation fee. And never let me see you again about here!”
“Bosh! See you again?— Not likely if you begged me, you clown!” Tsuya hurled her abuse back at him, with bitter hatred.
The footman was missed, and was looked for in vain. There was only Tokubey squatting on the threshold, his wounded head between his hands, groaning in his agony. In addition to his head, he had suffered deep cuts in his upper arms and another across his thigh. Not like a man of strong nerves and grit that he usually was, he twitched and writhed like a moribund heap of flesh.
“Tsuya! Tsuya!” he called, gasping in a faint voice. “My wounds are serious and I’m losing so much blood that I’ll never pull through. That dog Ashizawa! Get Shinsuké san to help you, and hack that miserable dog down for me! Take that vengeance for me!”
“Don’t be silly! What a song you sing withonly those scratches,—you will disgrace yourself! That rascal of a servant seems to have gone off somewhere. No time to lose, get hold of me and we shall get away before the officers show up!”
Tsuya took Tokubey by the hand and, in a manner none too soft or sparing, lift him stoutly to his feet, putting his arm across her shoulder.
The mention of officers was an instant alarm to Shinsuké. Should he be caught on the spot, all his explanations would not clear him, after the preceding cases, of the misdeed he was no party to. Yet he could not think of leaving the two in the lurch. He rallied to aid Tsuya. Between them, the pair dragged Tokubey to his feet, hauling him by the shoulders; they half-carried and half-led him, as they started off, soon breaking into a run.
Taking a deserted path along between the postern walls of the mansions and the rice fields, the three had run on for five or six minutes, when they crawled into the shadow of some shrubbery growth, to snatch a while to recover their wind. Fortunately, there were no signs of their being tracked. Shinsuké took a hand towel out of his bosom and, ripping it into strips, bound thewounds which were still profusely bleeding.
“For all this you’re doing for me, Shinsuké san, I am grateful to you!” said Tokubey who sat crumpled, leaning on the lap of Tsuya who sat over the edge of the road,—and his voice carried a depth of feeling.
“—Just get me back home, and I’ll be saved. And I shall owe my life to you!”
“Look, master, are you sure you are steady? Do you think you can manage to walk?” inquired Tsuya, after some time of rest, and her voice was full of kindness, and heart-felt concern. “If you can’t walk, we two will carry you on our shoulders. Just get up and try how you can go.”
“Oh, I am well enough, now,” he answered, labouring to his feet, only to totter on his knees. He barely caught himself against her arms, again.
“Listen, man, I can see you’re in no shape to go. But why should we let you suffer so long, when I could give you what you need and speed you on—to hell!”
A sudden sweep of her arm, Tsuya took the reeling man by a cluster of his hair and hurled her whole weight upon him, who went down crushed, heavily thudding on the ground. She flashed out of her sash folds a razor, carriedthere concealed, and swung it over the upturned face. Barely in time he met her hand; straining what mortal strength still left in him, he turned his body and threw her off. As soon, he was up on his feet,—
“If I must die I’ll take you along, too!” he snarled, and rushed for a counter-attack, swinging his carving knife. What with the suddenness of it and the blinding darkness, Shinsuké was quite helpless to think of aught but to mope in his dismayed confusion about the two bodies in a deadly grip. While in this aimless agitation, his groping hands felt out Tokubey’s neck cramped somewhere between her feet. Instantly, he wedged in his weight and pulled them apart.
“You are with her to get me, I suppose! Come, you dog! Get me if you can!” said the wounded man, and now, in fiendish desperation, came upon Shinsuké who, however, quickly wrested the weapon out of his hand.
In the meanwhile, Tsuya pulled herself to her feet, and brought him down by sweeping his feet off the ground. Again, there ensued a fierce, closed struggle. Wounded as he was, he was more than her match. She was at last pinned down, flat on her back, hands closing around herneck to choke out her life. A particle more of strength left in the wounded man, and she would have been dead, straightway. Tokubey’s strength had carried him thus far, but no farther; suddenly he felt himself sapped of force.
“Come, what are you doing, Shin san?” Tsuya called out for help, straining her half-choked voice.
“—He’s killing me!—Don’t you see here is our chance, to-night?—Finish this Tokubey—this dog’s dying, anyway,—and it means we’ll be free—no more bother—you as well as me. Never a better chance to crack his head!—For heaven’s sake, come!—come and get him—”
Even while she went on trying to shriek out her appeal, her life seemed fast sinking, her voice grew fainter and ever fainter, until every second threatened to crop it short, once for all.
“Fiend you! Oh, I’m choking! Help me, Shin san!” Her voice was good yet for that another shriek.
Scarce had she spent out her breath, before Shinsuké drove the knife, the spoil of a moment ago, into the back of the man placed astride her fallen body. Little worse for the blow, the other shot himself into his arms, kicking, battering,biting, ripping with nails, in frenzied rage. Shinsuké did not experience suchresistantforce when he killed Santa or the boatman’s woman. Nor were they always on their feet. Rolling and tumbling, dragged in dirt and pulled by hair, the two men fought on what appeared a fight of neither men nor beasts. It was after some moments that Shinsuké, almost by chance, buried his knife into the flabby side of his foe.
“He—he—here, Tsuya! I die, but my curse be on your head!” With this outburst on his lips, Tokubey gave a convulsive shudder. In the same instant, a second blow was sent through his heart. One sharp whine of pain, hanging yet on the other’s arms, he stiffened.
“What of the curse of a gutter rat! Serves you right, too!” said Tsuya.
“It’s the third one I’ve killed! I am damned!—For heaven’s sake, die with me, now!” Shinsuké said, when he had shoved the corpse off, having freed himself from the dead man’s clutch; his jaw sagged, in anuncontrollabletremble.
“What talk, man! If that’s what you do, what’s the sense of killing this man? You have gone down deep enough, why not stay there and takeall good things coming your way? Who will know this thing, if we keep our mouths shut? Why this chicken-hearted idea? Come, you buck up. I don’t want to die,—no, never!”
Shinsuké was no longer in possession of his own mind. That he had played straight into her hand, he saw; and yet, in the face of all that, he now allowed himself to lapse from the resolution which he had so assiduously hugged for three days past.
“So, then, you’ll do that for me? Oh, how happy!” cried Tsuya, and, in her wild exultation, she danced about; lastly flinging herself against his chest blotched over with bloody clods.
Shinsuké who had gathered himself into a stony lump, like a dead body, in an attitude of deep thought, was now left alone and aside, as Tsuya set about to dispose of the corpse, without his aid. As a first thing, she slipped her hand into the bosom and pulled out a purse holding a hundred “ryo” which, in her words, the dead man would not need for his trip to Hades. All pieces of clothing, carefully peeled off, were done into a tight roll, bound up with a piece of string. It was her idea to take away from the spot any and all things that might serve as evidence of the crime.As a last thing, she took the razor and cut the face of the man all over, who was finally buried in the mire of the paddy field. The remains were now beyond any possible recognition, should it chance to be discovered.
More unfrequented ways were carefully picked, as they turned back for the Naka-cho. Late that night, the two fugitive figures crawled into their home.