Halting abruptly, Chief Ohira faced Sano. “I don’t fraternize with the Dutch.” Fury whitened his nostrils. “I don’t break the laws. And if I knew anything about Spaen’s murder, I can assure you I would have said so.”

Sano’s doubts about Ohira increased. If the chief was as blameless as he claimed, wouldn’t he be eager to cooperate with Sano? Stress sometimes affected people in odd ways, yet Sano couldn’t trust someone so antagonistic.

“I’ll speak to your staff,” he said, “and see what they know about last night’s events.”

An unhealthy sweat glistened on Ohira’s face, as if from a febrile illness. “I can assure you that I’ve already questioned all the guards, servants, and interpreters.” He glared at Sano. “No one saw, heard, or knows anything. They’re all trustworthy; you can believe they’re telling the truth.”

Sano believed that subordinates often knew things they didn’t tell their superiors, but he didn’t argue. Ohira couldn’t deny him access to Deshima’s staff, and the chief knew it. “Let’s finish inspecting the perimeter, shall we?”

This they did, to no avail, then returned to the main street. “Are you satisfied?” Ohira asked, a gleam of righteous vindication in his eyes.

“For now. I’ll examine Director Spaen’s quarters next.”

“This way, Sōsakan-sama, this way,” Iishino called from outside one of the houses. He led them up a flight of stairs to the balcony and slid open the door.

The first thing Sano noticed when he entered the dim chamber was the rancid odor of barbarian. He opened the four shuttered windows—two overlooking the street, two above the rear garden—and noted the intact bars.

“We already checked those,” Chief Ohira said from the doorway, where he stood with his arms folded.

This finding, combined with his observations on the rest of the island, forced Sano to conclude that if Director Spaen had escaped Deshima without leaving a trace, he must have had help from someone on the Japanese staff. Had that person killed him, too? Temporarily postponing speculation on this dangerous subject, Sano observed the room’s unusual features.

In one corner, a quilt-covered futon sat upon a low wooden platform. So it was true that barbarians didn’t sleep on the floor. A long-legged table held a carved ivory pipe and leather tobacco pouch, an oil lamp, a ceramic water jug and basin, and a crumpled rag—evidence that barbarians did bathe occasionally. Sano examined the straight razor, and a comb with yellow hairs caught in it. The mirror above the table reflected with amazing clarity his own surprised face. A flat, round gold case on a chain contained a miniature version of Governor Nagai’s clock. Sano opened the cabinet that stood against the opposite wall.