How completely he’d misjudged the doctor, who had always seemed a paragon of stolid, bourgeois virtue! Whatever Huygens had done, it must be bad, for him to worry so. “As far as the Japanese authorities are concerned, either of us could be a smuggler,” deGraeff continued, though he knew that his history as Spaen’s private trade partner counted heavily against him. “We had equal access to the goods. Oh, but you’re the one who speaks the native tongue, aren’t you?”

Huygens buried his face in his hands and uttered a mournful curse: “Verdomme!”

DeGraeff smiled. “So it seems that we must unite for our mutual protection,” he said. “If you keep my secrets, I’ll keep yours.” And not only the ones under discussion, but also their whereabouts last night and when Spaen had disappeared—and what deGraeff planned to do before they sailed. “If we both stand firm, no one can ever lay the blame for Spaen’s murder on either of us. We’ll be safe.”

The doctor looked up, nodding eagerly in pitiful relief and gratitude. “Yes, yes. That’s what we’ll do.” He clasped deGraeff’s hands in his hot, sweaty ones. “Thank you, Maarten.”

In the street, guards surrounded the three other Dutchmen, who had returned from their trip this morning. Interpreter Iishino waved, calling, “Assistant Director deGraeff! Dr. Huygens! Time for Director Spaen’s funeral.”

DeGraeff stood up and headed for the ladder. “And I thank you, Nicolaes.”

His soul might be damned to burn in hell for all eternity, but with luck neither the Japanese nor the Dutch authorities would punish him for Spaen’s murder or any other crimes. The danger would soon be over; he would return to the Netherlands a wealthy, free man.

He wondered what Huygens’s guilty secret was, and whether the good doctor was capable of murder.

23

二三

Jan Spaen’s funeral procession ascended the steep streets of Nagasaki toward the Dutch burial ground in the hills. Sano, dressed in his ceremonial garb of white under-robe, black silk kimono, trousers, and surcoat, with black cloth covering his swords as a gesture of respect for the dead, rode near the end. Mounted troops cleared a path through the crowd that had come to see the barbarians. Spectators trailed the procession and jammed balconies or rooftops along the route, cheering. Refreshment vendors did a brisk trade, but ordinary business had halted. The drizzle continued, yet no one sought cover.

“Get back!” shouted the footsoldiers who ran alongside the procession, pushing away gawkers who got too close. “Anyone who touches or speaks to the barbarians will die!”