Tall and spare, Assistant Director deGraeff had lank gray hair that fell to his shoulders. Gray stubble shadowed his face, which was long and narrow, with a pointed nose, thin mouth, and deeply cleft chin. A craggy brow overhung his wary gray eyes.

Sano introduced himself, then said, “I’m sorry to bring you bad news. Director Jan Spaen is dead.”

The barbarian looked to Iishino, who translated. Sano hated this tedious method of communication. Uneasily he wondered whether he could trust the officious interpreter not to twist his words, or the barbarian’s.

DeGraeff clasped his hands and bowed his head over them, remaining silent for a moment before he spoke.

“He thanks you for the information,” Iishino said. “He will assume Director Spaen’s responsibilities at once, so that trade may proceed without interruption.”

Now Sano found an unexpected advantage in not knowing the suspect’s language. Without the distraction of words, he could concentrate on deGraeff’s expression and tone of voice while the barbarian spoke. Before deGraeff averted his eyes in prayer, Sano had glimpsed an odd look in them: shock, or elation? Sano thought it significant that deGraeff hadn’t asked the obvious question: How did Spaen die?

“Director Spaen was murdered,” Sano said. “His killer must be caught and punished. Therefore, I must ask you some questions.”

DeGraeff listened to the translation, nodded, replied. “He’ll cooperate fully,” Iishino said. He spoke to deGraeff in Dutch, then said to Sano, “I told the barbarian that he should tell us everything he knows right now. If he refuses, he’ll be beaten.” Smiling, he waited for Sano’s approval.

Resisting Iishino’s attempt to lead the interrogation, Sano addressed deGraeff. “I understand that you haven’t eaten all day. I apologize for your discomfort. Food will be brought to you soon.” To Iishino: “Tell him what I said. And from now on, I’ll ask the questions.”

Iishino’s mouth formed a circle of surprise. “But sōsakan-sama—”

“Just do it!” Sano said, exasperated by the constant interference. Would that he spoke Dutch, and could manage without Iishino! While the interpreter translated, Sano told the servant, “Bring the food, and be quick.”

The servant rushed from the room. Ohira and the guards eyed Sano with disapproval. “You are very kind to the barbarian,” Ohira said in an accusing tone. “Is that wise?”

Sano remembered the oath he’d taken, and wondered uneasily whether feeding a hungry man could be misconstrued as promoting Dutch interests over Japanese. Another wrong step, so soon after placating the ship’s crew? But he read in the barbarian’s strange, pale eyes the relief that here at last was a reasonable, compassionate Japanese official. Perhaps deGraeff would cooperate out of gratitude.

“When and where did you last see Jan Spaen?” Sano asked.

The barbarian spoke, and Iishino translated: “At sunset last night, during our evening meal in the common room.”

“What did you and your comrades do after the meal?”