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Updated: June 27, 2025
Before she could obey, the dining room curtains were parted, and a black-clad little Jap butler sidled into the hallway, his jaw adroop, his beady eyes astare with terror, his hands washing each other with invisible soap-and-water. "Sato!" exclaimed Claire. The Jap paid no heed. "Prease!" he chattered between castanet teeth. "Prease, I hear. I scare. I no fightman. I go, prease! I s-s-s-s, I "
Only the high cheek-bones and bony jaw-line and the rather inconveniently low voice, which, however, had the timbre of an ormolu clock in the chiming, indicating his peculiar and covert power to dominate as dynamically as ungrammatically a board of directors reckoning in millions across the mahogany. "Shall I call in Sato to help you dress, Roody?" "Please no!
Sato asked politely. Craig thanked him and said that we would. "Otaka!" Sato called. A peculiar, almost white-skinned attendant answered, and a moment later produced four cups and poured out the rice brandy, taking his own quietly, apart from us. I watched him drink, curiously.
Then, in flawless English, far different from the pigeon-talk he had always used for their benefit, he said respectfully, to Gavin: "I brought him here, as you said, sir. He's coming around, all right. After the pressure is off the carotid, numbness doesn't last more than two minutes." "Sato!" gasped Claire, unbelieving, while Milo gurgled, wordless.
They followed, reaching the hallway just in time to see the little man deposit his burden on the couch. And both of them cried-out in astonishment. For the stripling who had reduced Rodney Hade to numb paralysis was Sato, their own recreant Japanese butler. At sight of them, he straightened himself up from the couch and bowed.
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