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In these circumstances somebody had to come out from behind the moat and do or say something last week before the mystery could in any way lift. Out came not-particularly-well-known General Kohei Kashii and roared that he was the divinely appointed new Military Governor of the Japanese capital. Normally the august name of the Son of Heaven is considered too sacred to be mentioned or invoked, but last week's emergency was clearly supreme and General Kashii rasped: "Orders to establish an emergency guard over conditions in Tokyo have been issued to the First Division. 'BY COMMAND OF THE EMPEROR, I have ordered mobilization of a portion of my troops at important points, the purpose of which is to maintain order in the capital and to protect important objects.
"I hope both officials and the people will avoid spreading wild rumors and will cooperate in the maintenance of peace."
Premier Among Wenches. With the entire World tingling with wild rumors about Japan, the one rumor too wild to be manufactured became the Son of Heaven's secret, jealously guarded for 24 hours. Secret: The "assassinated" Premier of Japan was not only alive but unscathed, sound and well.
Of the two Japanese of medium height, each with heavily wrinkled face, small clipped white mustache and nearly bald head, who went to sleep on wooden pillows in the Premier's Official Residence, one was Premier Admiral Keisuke Okada and the other was his brother-in-law, Colonel Denzo Matsuo.
If the gallant Colonel deliberately palmed himself off on the assassins as the Premier so that they might kill him and take their departure, his heroic sacrifice was in the normal tradition of the Japanese Samurai who inherits the fanatical feudal duty of dying willingly in case of need to save his superior. It was not clear this week, and it may never be clear, exactly how this most amazing mistaken-identity-murder occurred, but it did become clear that Premier Okada secreted himself first in a steel cabinet and later among kitchen wenches.
A simple Buddhist funeral was next held for "Premier Okada," who ventured out and actually attended it, masquerading as his brother-in-law, "Colonel Matsuo." The corpse was reverently interred, and the only thing which might have given the show away was that the Emperor, who by this time knew the amazing truth, did not send the customary condolences and imperial presents for the Dead. This omission went unnoticed.
Unshaven and haggard was Premier Okada when he at last turned himself over to his astounded valet and was shaved, decked out as an Admiral with all his medals, and drove to the Palace to prostrate himself before the Emperor and humbly voice "my sincere regrets." It was not that the Premier regretted his sensational escape but that in Japan, when things get as far out of hand as they had last week, it is supposed that the Son of Heaven has been inconvenienced or disturbed and officials of the Empire are supposed to regret this. They may regret it either by voicing their shame with an appropriate grovel or by disemboweling themselves in harakiri.