“I went to my chambers, and assumed the others went to theirs. It was the usual routine. There was a bad storm, so I stayed in all night.”

Even without understanding Dutch, Sano couldn’t mistake the barbarian’s weary, rehearsed tone: DeGraeff must have answered these same questions many times. “Did you see or hear anything unusual outside?”

“Nothing except the rain and thunder.”

“Did you know Director Spaen had left Deshima, or where he was going?”

“No; he didn’t tell me,” Iishino translated as deGraeff leaned his head on his bony hand.

“How long had you known Director Spaen?” Sano asked, “and what was your relationship with him?”

The barbarian spoke, eyes devoid of emotion. “They met ten years ago, in Batavia, Indonesia,” Iishino said. “DeGraeff was a clerk for the East India Company, and Spaen was an assistant trade director then. They traded European goods for spices, then sold the spices around the world. The company was pleased with their profits. They were promoted and assigned to Japan.”

“Were you and Spaen on friendly terms?”

DeGraeff’s smile bordered on a sneer. Beneath his courtesy, Sano detected a harsh, uncompromising nature, an antipathy toward people in general. “Of course. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have asked the company to keep us together when we left Indonesia.”

“What is ‘private trade’?” Sano asked.

If this question surprised deGraeff, he didn’t show it. His gaze remained steady, his body still. “East India Company agents often buy and sell goods independently when they go on voyages, financing the ventures themselves. That is private trade.”

“You use your employer’s ships to transport these goods and its trade networks to distribute them? Free of charge, while competing with the company?” To Sano, this sounded highly dubious, if not illegal. “Doesn’t this violate its monopoly on East Indies trade?”

“We must compensate ourselves for the low salaries the company pays us.”

Now Sano saw a possible motive for Spaen’s murder. “Did you and Director Spaen profit from your private trade?”

This time the barbarian paused between Iishino’s translation and his own reply, though his expression didn’t change. “Yes. But I don’t see why it concerns you. Japan has no law against Dutch private trade. Your merchants don’t care whether they deal with the company or with individuals. And your shōgun doesn’t care either, as long as he collects his share of the revenue.”

“Who inherits Jan Spaen’s share of the profits?” Already guessing the answer, Sano moved closer to deGraeff.

A flicker of emotion momentarily broke the barbarian’s gaze. “I do. I was his partner; he had no family.”

Sano stopped as near deGraeff as the man’s foul odor would allow. “Is that why you killed him? For the money?”

DeGraeff shot out of his chair. “I didn’t kill Spaen!” Gone was his spurious courtesy; anger flushed his cheeks.