meanwhile in the house of slender pines there was pandemonium. the frightened, panic-stricken geishas and maidens fled wildly about, seeking in every nook and corner of the place for the lost child, while above their chattering and awe-stricken whispers rose the shrill, hysterical laughter of the okusama.

she it was who had lost the child, so she averred, for it was upon her bosom the little one had slept.

of all the inmates of the house of slender pines, the only one whose voice had not yet been heard was the geisha moonlight. she sat in an upper chamber, her chin pillowed by her folded hands, while her long, dark eyes stared straight out before her blankly. she had remained in this motionless position from the moment they had told her of the loss of her child. her little apprentice, omi, fearing that her mistress’s mind was affected, hung about her in tears, alternately offering bodily service and seeking to tempt the silent one to eat. but her offices were ignored or passively endured. the food remained untouched.

not even the wild crying of the okusama stirred her, though she could plainly hear the coaxing voices of the maidens as they sought to restrain her from flinging herself down the mountain-side.

later in the day, however, when the okusama, whose wailing, from sheer exhaustion, had turned to long gasping sobs, scratched and pulled at the shoji of the spider’s room, moonlight stirred, like one coming out of a trance, and drew her hand dazedly across her eyes as she listened to the heartrending words of the okusama.

“dearest moonlight! the honorable little one has gone upon a journey. he was too beautiful, too exalted for a geisha-house; the gods coveted him. what shall i do? i pray you speak to me. what shall the okusama do?”

with the aid of omi, the geisha slowly arose, and, walking blindly toward the screens, opened them at last.

at her sudden appearance the maidens supporting and restraining the okusama drew back, and even the wild wife of matsuda stopped her bitter crying for a moment, for a faint smile was on the lips of the spider, and she held out both her hands toward them.

“silence is good,” she gently admonished. “it is necessary to think. help me all, i pray you!”

they followed her into the chamber and seated themselves in a solemn little circle about her. presently:

“last night the honorable lord taro slept safe upon your bosom, okusama?”

the poor wife of the geisha-keeper clasped her thin hands passionately upon her breast; but her expression was less wild, her words intelligible.

“here, my moonlight! in my arms, the soft head nestling beneath my chin—so warm—so—so—so-o—”

she laid her hands in the place where the little head had rested. her features worked as if she must again abandon herself to anguished weeping, but the look on moonlight’s face restrained her with almost hypnotic power.

“it was after the going of the master?” she queried, speaking very slowly and gently, as if thus the better to secure intelligent answers.

“after the going,” repeated the woman. “for good-fortune i held him in the andon-light, that his honorable face might be the last my lord should see as he departed.”

“he has gone to the—city?”

“to the city. he contemplated arousing the interest of a departing regiment in your honorable presence here, but, alas!” she broke down again, crying out piercingly that the evil ones had come meanwhile in the absence of the master of the house, and who was there left save helpless females to seek the august little one?

moonlight’s chin had fallen into her hands again. she seemed to think deeply, but the stricken, numb look was gone. two red spots crept into her cheeks, and her dark eyes gleamed dangerously.

she was rehearsing in her mind the words and actions of matsuda since his return. she was acutely aware of the base character of the geisha-keeper, and recalled the many times when she had seen him plunged in calculating thought, pacing and repacing the gardens, gnawing like a rat at his nails, and ever his eye stealing craftily to her.

suddenly there came clearly to the geisha what had possessed for days the mind of the master. like an illuminating flash from the gods it came upon her what matsuda had done with her child.

there arose now before her agonized vision the cruel, scornful face of the fearful mother-in-law, and beside it the round, envious, malicious countenance of ohano. like a meek, mute fool, she had permitted them to drive her from her rightful—yes, her legal—home, because she had not then known her full power. now they had stolen from her the one link that bound her inexorably to the beloved dead: for japanese women believe their soldiers dead until they return. little they knew of the true character of the spider! she would show them that even one of the vagabond, despised actor race from which she had come was not to be trodden upon with impunity.

she sprang to her feet, electrified with her new purpose. the geishas scattered, alarmed and frightened, on either side of her.

“okusama!” she caught at the woman’s wandering attention as the latter raised herself from her prostrate position on the floor.

“my moonlight?”

“you have jewels—cash, perhaps! speak!”

the troubled brows of the okusama drew together, and the vague look of wandering came back to her eyes. moonlight dropped on her knees opposite the woman, and, placing her hands on her shoulders, forced her to look directly in her face.

“answer me—speak, okusama!”

as still the poor creature regarded her vaguely, the geisha whispered with entreating tenderness:

“tell me—my—mother!”

over the wild features of the okusama a gentle, wistful smile crept.

“what shall i say?” she plaintively whispered.

“name your possessions. he has given you jewels, money even. yes, it is so—is it not?”

the woman nodded. her lips began to quiver like a child about to cry. the geishas and the apprentices had crowded in a circle about them, and now they seemed to hang in suspense upon the words of the okusama.

“it is—so!” she faintly said.

“will you not give them to me?” pleaded the spider. then, as the woman drew back timorously, she cried: “quick, now, while you remember where they are!”

her eyes were on the okusama’s, hypnotically compelling her. slowly the woman tottered to her feet. she staggered across the room, supported on either side by the geishas. she came to the east wall, felt along it till her fingers found a secret panel, pushed it aside, found an inner one, and still an inner one, and still an inner one. then she drew out the lacquer safe, and, with a conciliating smile trembling over her vacant features, she opened the casket and poured the jewels into the lap of the spider. moonlight looked at them with glittering eyes of excitement. then she spoke to the geishas.

“you all have heard of oka, the great and just judge of feudal days. you know how it was he decided the parentage of a child whom two women claimed. he bade them each take an arm of the girl and pull, and the strongest should prevail to keep the child. alas, the poor mother dared not pull too hard lest she hurt her beloved offspring, and preferred to resign her child to the impostor. thus the judge knew she was the true mother. maidens, in the city of kioto there are judges as wise as oka, but much money is needed to obtain the services of those who must bring the cases before them. come, little omi, we set out now upon a long and perilous journey!”

“the gods go with you!” quavered the geishas, wiping their tears upon their sleeves.

“ah, may all the gods lead and protect you!” sobbed the okusama.