It Happened in Japan. Baroness Albert d' Anethan

      Page.

      Chapter I.--Renunciation 1

      Chapter II.--In Lotus Land 25

      Chapter III.--Pains and Penalties 56

      Chapter IV.--Deep Waters 75

      Chapter V.--Home News 91

      Chapter VI.--A Woman's Womanliness 118

      Chapter VII.--Tried as by Fire 146

      Chapter VIII.--Amy to the Rescue 159

      Chapter IX.--On the Verge of the Unknown 176

      Chapter X.--In the Shadow of a Tomb 198

      Chapter XI.--The Price of a Kiss 222

      Chapter XII.--Danger Signals 244

      Chapter XIII.--Hidden Fires 265

      Chapter XIV.--A Bird of Ill Omen 280

      Chapter XV.--'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis 298

      Chapter XVI.--"It is best so, Amy, Dear" 315

      CHAPTER I.

      Renunciation.

      Two men, side by side, were slowly pacing the deck of the Empress of India on her outward voyage to Japan. A week had almost passed since the boat had sailed from Vancouver, and the extremely bad weather encountered until this afternoon had prevented all but the most hardened good sailors from penetrating from below. Now, however, the wind and sea had somewhat abated, the first ray of sun had brought the storm-tossed and sea-sick from their berths, and the broad decks were soon swarming with passengers of both sexes, whose faces and general demeanour expressed entire satisfaction at their restored liberty.

      Monsieur de Güldenfeldt, the newly-appointed Swedish Minister to Japan, though an experienced and enterprising traveller, was watching this motley crew through his eye-glass with an amused and somewhat quizzical expression. He had seen many such scenes, and yet to his observant mind they were ever new and always entertaining. He was at the present moment occupied in gazing at a French priest, a German commercial traveller, and a cadaverous-looking Englishman discussing with varied gesticulations some point in the political situation, on which question each appeared as ignorant as he was positive, and he was vaguely wondering what means they would ultimately find to unravel the tangled skein, when he felt his companion, a tall dark man with a black moustache and a distinguished nose, grip him by the arm.

      "By Jove, de Güldenfeldt!" exclaimed the latter excitedly, while an unusual air of animation lit up his somewhat sleepy eyes, "Isn't that Mrs. Norrywood? That woman about whom there has been all that fuss, you know. Or am I dreaming?"

      Monsieur de Güldenfeldt glanced along the deck and fixed his eyes on a lady who, all unconscious of the notice she was attracting, slowly came towards them.

      "Not much doubt on that point, I fancy," he replied, as the tall, graceful figure passed near them. "I've known her for years. As one knows people about Town, you know. Dined with her, and that sort of thing. There's no mistaking her. Sapristi! what a beautiful woman she is! I wonder if Martinworth is on board: if they are together, you know."

       Sir Ralph Nicholson pensively stroked his moustache, but did not reply.

      "It would give me intense satisfaction to be acquainted with the rights of that story," continued de Güldenfeldt. "It was an uncommonly mixed up affair. Doubtless, Nicholson, you will put me down as a fool, but I believe that I am one of the few people who, after having followed the evidence from the beginning to the end, still believe in her and Martinworth's innocence. Why! you can't look into that woman's eyes, and not feel convinced that she is all right. I defy you to do so."

      "My dear fellow, it is just because she looks so uncommonly innocent and pure, and all that sort of thing, that she's probably as bad as they make 'em," replied Sir Ralph sententiously. "You are such a devilishly indulgent fellow, de Güldenfeldt. All the many years that I have known you, and all the time you were posted in London, I hardly ever heard you utter a word against a soul: especially if the individual discussed happened to be a woman. Yet heaven knows, in the course of a long and successful career you must have had plenty of knowledge of the fair sex and their peculiar little ways."

      "Believe me, my dear boy," replied de Güldenfeldt somewhat gravely, "women are far more sinned against than sinning. But it's no earthly use arguing with a juvenile cynic, such as no doubt you consider yourself, on this much disputed point. At present, you have all the censoriousness and hard-heartedness of youth on your side. Only wait ten or fifteen years--till you are my mature age--and then tell me what you think about the matter. But," he added, "to return to our friend Mrs. Norrywood. You have no notion what a brute was Norrywood. It was only after years of neglect and infidelity, even downright cruelty on his part, that his wife took up at last with that nice fellow Martinworth. One only wonders she didn't console herself ages before."

      "But surely it was she who started the divorce proceedings?"

      "Yes. You see one day things came to a climax when she--oh! Well, don't let's go over the whole sordid history. Suffice it to say, that no woman with a particle of self-respect could, knowing what she knew, put up a day longer with such a blackguard. Then he--Norrywood--you know, brought the counter charge against her, poor soul, and Lord Martinworth; and at one time things were made to look uncommonly black against them. However, nothing was proved, for the excellent reason, in my opinion, that there was absolutely nothing to prove. And in the end she got her divorce right enough."

       "Yes, and everyone said she would marry Martinworth within the year."

      "Well, the year is almost past. We shall see whether everyone was right, and whether Martinworth is on board; and if so, in what capacity. Here she comes again. I shall stop and speak to her this time, I think," and Monsieur de Güldenfeldt, hat in hand, went towards the lady.

      "How do you do, Mrs. Norrywood," he said; "how extremely pleasant it is for me to think that we are fated to be travelling companions."

      The person addressed stopped a moment in her walk, raising her clear grey eyes, in which lurked a look of annoyance and of slight surprise, to Monsieur de Güldenfeldt's face.

      "I think," she said very slowly but very clearly and incisively, "you have made a mistake. I am no long--I am not Mrs. Norrywood. My name is Nugent," and with a slight bow she swept past him.

      With a look of stupefaction on his expressive face, Monsieur de Güldenfeldt's outstretched hand fell slowly to his side as he stared after the retreating form.

      He turned slowly round to Sir Ralph, who