Removing a watch from his obi, he glanced at it.
“It’s time. I’d better be on my way.”
Standing, he moved to the front entrance followed by O-Nobu, who took a brown fedora from the hat rack and put it into his hands.
“Hurry back. Don’t forget to tell Kobayashi-san that O-Nobu sends her regards.”
Without turning around, Tsuda stepped into the chilly evening air.
[155]
THE PLACE he was meeting Kobayashi was down a side street to the right midway along the busiest thoroughfare in Tokyo. To avoid the unpleasantness of having the man call for him at his home and to save himself the trouble of going to his lodgings, Tsuda had designated a restaurant and set the time.
That time had come and gone while he was on the streetcar. But his lateness, the result of having changed kimonos, received the money from O-Nobu, and sat briefly with her chatting, didn’t concern him. To speak plainly, he didn’t want his behavior toward Kobayashi to reflect a scrupulously proper attitude. On the contrary, he intended, by arriving late, to tweak his self-indulgence and complacency. Whether it was deemed a farewell party or not, inasmuch as this was actually an occasion at which one person was providing money and the other accepting it, Tsuda was unquestionably in charge. His best policy, therefore, using his superior status to optimal advantage, was to install himself in advance as the host to Kobayashi as the guest and thereby to nip his companion’s arrogance in the bud. Quite apart from arithmetic considerations of loss and gain, this also seemed to be an amusing way of simply getting even.
Inside the rattling streetcar Tsuda glanced at his watch and wondered if even now, late as he was, he might still be too early for his presumptuous guest. Assuming that was so, he considered frustrating Kobayashi’s inflexible expectations a little more by spending some time browsing in the night shops.
When he alighted from the trolley at a stop on the Ginza, the pell-mell flashing of lights all around him was more than adequate to convey dizzyingly the frenetic activity of the capital of the night. Standing there, he debated whether to spend ten minutes or so wandering among the lights before turning down the side street toward his destination. However, as he surveyed his surroundings, turning away from the evening paper a newsboy thrust in his face, he received a sudden shock.
The man whom he had assumed by this time would be tired to death of waiting was standing just across the street. Because he was standing at the far corner of the intersection where Tsuda had alighted, their sightlines fortunately didn’t intersect, and the night and the crowds and the flashing lights helped prevent Kobayashi from identifying him. Moreover, he was facing away, engaged in conversation with a young man Tsuda didn’t recognize. As only two-thirds of the youth’s face and perhaps one-third of Kobayashi’s were visible from where he stood, he was able to observe them attentively with virtually no risk of revealing himself. Their eyes never strayed. They were standing face to face, and as Tsuda continued to watch he could see clearly from their attitudes that they were discussing something serious.
There was a wall just behind them, but unfortunately it was windowless so there was no light on them. Just then, however, an automobile turned the corner noisily from the south and both men were caught in its large headlights. For the first time Tsuda was able to make out the young man’s features plainly. He was struck by a wan complexion and unkempt hair that looked uncut for months and hung from his peaked cap down both sides of his face. As the car passed, Tsuda turned smartly around and walked off in the opposite direction.
He had nothing in mind to do. The brightly lit shops were cosmopolitan and beautiful, but that was all. He discovered nothing complex about their appeal except the transformation in the merchandise as the business changed from one to the next. There were nonetheless sights that pleased his eye wherever he looked. When he came upon a stylish necktie displayed in front of a foreign haberdashery he went inside, selected the item he thought he wanted, and turned it over in his hands.
When he felt he had probably taken long enough, he retraced his steps. Not surprisingly, Kobayashi and his companion were no longer to be seen. He quickened his step a little. From the window of the establishment he had chosen, warm light was spilling into the street. The window was high in the brick wall of the building, and because the band of light that issued from it merged with the night indirectly, filtered through a patterned, yoke-yellow awning, Tsuda, looking up as he passed, imagined a serene dining room appointed with a gas fireplace.
Reposing in what might be described as dignified silence at the far end of a long block, the restaurant wasn’t large. Tsuda had only recently learned about it. Except for the fact that he had dined there four or five times, having heard from his friend that the proprietor had served as cook for many years to an attaché at the Japanese embassy in France, he had no reason for inviting Kobayashi there.
Pushing through the doors resolutely, he stepped inside. As expected, Kobayashi was waiting. Looking a little at a loss for what to do with himself, he was peering gravely at what must have been the evening paper.
[156]
LOOKING UP, he glanced quickly toward the entrance and then quickly lowered his eyes to the paper again. Tsuda was obliged to approach the table in silence and was the first to speak.
“Apologies. Been here long?”
Kobayashi finally folded his paper.
“You must have a watch.”
Tsuda refrained on purpose from taking out his watch. Kobayashi turned and glanced behind him at the large clock hanging on the wall. The hands had moved forty minutes past the appointed hour.
“Actually, I just got here myself.”
They sat down facing each other. As only two other tables were occupied, both by men accompanied by women who were dressed for the evening, the restaurant was unusually quiet. The gas stove burning just a few feet away suffused the air of the elegantly appointed room, which tended to shades of white, with a comfortable warmth.
Tsuda was visited by an odd recollection. In his mind’s eye he saw with perfect clarity the seedy bar he had ended up in thanks to Kobayashi. It gave him a certain satisfaction to think that this time he had invited his companion of that evening to a restaurant like this.
“What do you think? It’s an attractive place, isn’t it?”
Kobayashi looked around as if he were noticing for the first time.
“Not bad — at least there doesn’t seem to be a detective here.”
“No, but there are some beautiful women.”
Abruptly, Kobayashi raised his voice.
“Are they geisha or what?”
Tsuda was a little embarrassed.
“Don’t be an idiot!” he scolded.
“Well they damn well could be. The world is chock full of surprises you’d never imagine.”
Tsuda lowered his voice further.
“A geisha would never dress that way.”
“Is that right? If you say so — a rube like me doesn’t understand that sort of distinction. If I see someone in a pretty kimono, I assume she must be a geisha.”
“Sarcastic as usual.”
Tsuda allowed his annoyance to show. Kobayashi was unfazed.
“I wasn’t being sarcastic. Being poor has blinded me to stufflike that. I was just speaking my mind honestly.”
“Fine.”
“Even if it isn’t, it’ll have to do. But let me ask you how it really is.”