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Updated: May 1, 2025
"I understand enough to keep away from Japan, a place where they have an earthquake every five minutes, and people live in paper houses. Besides, look at the size of your women-folk. Just imagine me, Mr. Brett, walking about among those little dolls, like a turkey among tom-tits." "We give fat people much admilation," said Jiro. "Nummie, I do hate that word fat.
"Very much more, but it was the knife which brought him to the place. He carried the major attraction away with him." Mrs. Jiro thought this sounded nice. She turned to her husband: "Why don't you tell the gentleman all you know about it, Nummie?" The little man looked at her curiously before he spoke to the barrister. "I have nothing to tell," he said. "I told the police all that they asked me.
Ooma, so instead of describing you to him I described Mr. Hume-Frazer from what my husband told me of his appearance in the dock. He was the first man I could think of, and it seemed to be best, as the quarrel was between them. Only I gave him a beard and moustache, so as to puzzle him more. Didn't I, Nummie? I told you when I came home." So Mrs.
Brett felt that she was too full, and would overflow with tears in an instant. "This is vely bad!" gasped Jiro. "Oh, Nummie dear, have we been doing wrong?" moaned his spouse. The barrister determined to frighten them thoroughly. "It is a grave question with the authorities whether they should not arrest you instantly," he said. "On what charge?" cried Jiro.
As it was, he smiled very broadly when he greeted the master of the flat, for the little man was small even for a Japanese. The contrast between him and his helpmate was ludicrous. He could not possibly kiss her unless she stooped, nor would his arms encircle her shoulders. "And how is my pretty karasu?" he asked, regarding his wife fondly. "Don't call me that, Nummie!" she cried.
"On a charge of complicity after the act in relation to the murder of Sir Alan Hume-Frazer. Your accomplice, Ooma, is the murderer." "What!" shrieked Mrs. Jiro, flouncing on to her knees and breaking forth into piteous sobs. "Oh, my precious infant! Oh, my darling Nummie! Will they part us from our babe?" The door opened, and a frowsy head appeared.
This shot floored Jiro metaphorically, and his wife literally, for she sank into a heap. "He knows everything, Nummie," she cried. "Evelything!" repeated her husband. Brett scowled terribly as a subterfuge for laughter. "Tell me," he said, "why you helped this amazing scoundrel?" "I did not help," squeaked Jiro, his voice becoming shrill with excitement and fear. "He was my fliend.
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