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“Your excellency disbelieves our legend of the fox-woman?” he queried courteously.

“Legends,” said the Tojin-san slowly, “belong to literature, and are tales to charm and beguile adults and deceive children. In the West we no longer heed them. We name them superstitions, and we’ve burned out our superstitions as we did our witches in the early days.”

The Japanese sat up stiffly, and in the chilly room he waved his fan regularly to and fro.

“You deny the existence of spirits in the West?”

“At least we do not create them out of our fancy or thought,” said the American gravely.

The officer said vehemently:

“They exist actively in Japan, honorable sir. Though you ignore them, they will force themselves upon you—as to-night, excellency!”

The Tojin-san frowned slightly. Then, thoughtfully, he emptied his pipe on the old bronze hibachi.

“You wish me to believe that my visitor to-night was a—spirit?”

“She was worse,” said the officer earnestly, “for she was invested with at least the form of a human being.”