Page:Modern Japanese Stories.pdf/62

 “Well, in that case why don’t I phone Wasao at the factory for you? He certainly ought to be told about his son’s debts.”

As a result of the telephone call, Wasao came directly from the factory in his overalls. It was evening when he reached the tea-shop in Shitaya. Hearing about the debts, he instantly surmised who had lent his son the money.

“Ah well,” he said, “I should have kept Sōichi living with me. I’d have stopped him from this nonsense. I’m not saying that I won’t settle for him, but I don’t see how I’m going to hide it from the old woman. She’ll make a terrible fuss when it comes to paying off those debts. I suppose you think I’m too easy on my wife—letting her control the money like that. But that’s how I keep things peaceful and happy at home. Well, I’ll manage somehow. Still, it’s terrible to have this idiot son of mine fleeced of the money that I’ve sweated for all these years.” He sat there sunk in thought and did not touch the whisky and the plate of cheese that they set before him.

With the help of his first wife’s brother, Wasao started making discreet inquiries about his son’s whereabouts. Perhaps there was some basis for Kanako’s concern. It was just possible that Sōichi might have jumped under a passing train or thrown himself into the crater on Ōshima Island. Tragic as this would be, it would not, Wasao told himself, be an unmitigated disaster: at least it would save him from having to worry about his feckless son.

There was no news on the following day, but on the evening of the twenty-eighth, just at the beginning of the New Year’s holiday, Kanako’s parents sent word that Sōichi had returned. So after three days’ absence his boy was safe and sound. Wasao hurried off to see him, bringing along the money that he had secretly put aside.

Sōichi was in the middle of supper when his father arrived. He had evidently been involved in a long bout of gambling.