"You know, Kent-san, I don't think you'd want to kick them at all, if you met them. In fact, you'd like them. I'll bet you a tiffin on it."
"All right, you're on," he replied thoughtlessly. The others had taken up the question of the Chinese demand for the return of the Liaotung peninsula, and he was interested.
A few days later Hata appeared at his office. "I have an invitation for you, you and your friend, Mr. Karsten, to have luncheon with Baron and Baroness Ohara, almost any day that would suit you. Would next Friday do? You know," he had noted the surprise on Kent's face, "you said you'd like to meet them."
Could ever such an absurd situation occur outside of Japan? How the devil could he accept the hospitality of people whom he had said he would like to kick, the Baroness at that? And still he was greatly tempted to grasp this opportunity to see at first hand, in their intimate home surroundings, these people, these heartless plutocrats who ground down the poor that they might amass wealth in a measure far greater than they could possibly use by even the most extravagant luxury. He hesitated.
"Did you by any chance say anything to the Oharas about my desire to kick them, Hata-san? Of course, you see that----"
"No, of course, not," he interrupted eagerly. "You know, I'm fairly close to Baron Ohara, and I really wanted you to meet him and the Baroness. They are charming people; you'll revise your opinion. I've told them of your investigation of the conditions of the poor in Tokyo, and they are much interested and really want you to tell them about it all. Anyway, do you think it would be fair for you to see only one side and then condemn the other? How about Friday?"
Kent accepted. What an odd proposition. Of course, Hata was right enough; he must seek both sides before passing judgment; but what the devil interest might Hata have in this? He did not know much about him, a suave, frock-coated gentleman, highly intelligent, fluent in English and French, ubiquitous in all places where Japanese and foreigners intermingled. He was known to be more or less definitely connected with the big interests--some even claimed that he was obscurely identified with the Foreign Office--but he was clever, an excellent companion, always ready to be of service in giving information or obtaining it for the foreigners. They accepted him as a sort of unofficial liaison officer maintained by the Japanese for the purpose of keeping them informed as to what the foreigners thought; also, in some measure, to elucidate the Japanese point of view. He was a bit of a mystery, but a pleasant one.