The American settled himself in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, staring at the harbour lights, his thoughts very obviously some thousands of miles away. Craven watched him speculatively. Atherton the big game-hunter, Atherton the mine-owner, he knew perfectly--but Atherton the New York broker, Atherton married, he was unacquainted with and he was trying to adjust and consolidate the two personalities.
It was the same Atherton--but more human, more humble, if such a word could be applied to an American millionaire. He felt a sudden curiosity to see the woman who had brought that new look into his old friend's keen blue eyes. He was conscious of an odd feeling of envy. Atherton became aware at last of his attentive gaze and grinned sheepishly.
"Must seem a bit of a fool to you, old man, but I feel like a boy going home for the holidays and that's the truth. But I've been yapping about my own affair all evening. What about you--staying on in Japan? Been here quite a while now, haven't you?"
"Just over a year."
"Like it?"
"Yes, Japan has got into my bones."
"Lazy kind of life, isn't it?"
There was no apparent change in Atherton's drawl, but Craven turned his head quickly and looked at him before answering.
"I'm a lazy kind of fellow," he replied quietly.
"You weren't lazy in the Rockies," said Atherton sharply.
"Oh, yes I was. There are grades of laziness."
Atherton flung the stub of his cigar overboard and selecting a fresh one, cut the end off carefully.
"Still got that Jap boy who was with you in America?"
"Yoshio? Yes. I picked him up in San Francisco ten years ago. He'll never leave me now."
"Saved his life, didn't you? He spun me a great yarn one day in camp."
Craven laughed and shrugged. "Yoshio has an Oriental imagination and quite a flair for romance. I did pull him out of a hole in 'Frisco but he was putting up a very tidy little show on his own account. He's the toughest little beggar I've ever come across and doesn't know the meaning of fear. If I'm ever in a big scrap I hope I shall have Yoshio behind me."
"You seem to be pretty well known over yonder," said Atherton with a vague movement of his head toward the shore.
"It is not a big town and the foreign population is not vast. Besides, there are traditions. I am the second Barry Craven to live in Yokohama--my father lived several years and finally died here. He was obsessed with Japan."