Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

It was a sweltering, pitch-black night.

A convertible automobile kept racing along the complex mountain road climbing toward Jukkoku Pass, tracing the mountain chain from Atami to Hakone. Along an S-shaped zigzag route, it frantically swerved left and right—following jet-black mountain spurs that spread like pleated fabric through sawtooth switchbacks—crossing valleys and carving through cliff faces. The urgency was palpable. Though the vehicle itself wasn't moving at top speed, the road coiled like the intricate loops of a large intestine in an anatomical chart. Headlights would flash on a distant ridge, then a horn would blare from some shadowed copse, before the roaring engine sent its luminous tail streaking once more beyond the pleated mountains. It seemed to circle endlessly while steadily gaining elevation.

It appeared to be a taxi but was actually a brand-new phaeton.
In the passenger seat with its shade removed, a middle-aged gentleman kept drowsily dozing off while clutching a black leather bag on his lap, his body swaying violently with the car's motion.
While occasionally stealing glances at that in the rearview mirror, the driver in a Russian cap turned the steering wheel with a languid air.

This road would steadily climb higher until eventually connecting to a toll road for automobiles—operated by Gakunan Railway Co., Ltd.—that ran from Jukkoku Pass to Hakone Pass.
A prime example of a tourist road, its white-background road signs marked with black lines flashed past the car windows in sleek forms, vivid even at night.

Before long, the automobile approached an especially sharp hairpin-like curve on a mountain spur.
The driver leaned forward as if bracing himself, continuing to wrench the steering wheel sharply rightward again and again.
With a guttural growl, the headlight beams—which until now had been idly caressing empty space—surged across the valley's darkness. Twin blurred spotlights overlapping as they struck the pleated mountain folds beyond swept across them like a poorly mounted magic lantern show, swaying unsteadily as they raced in dizzying streaks.
And then—whether the road’s continuation lay within those pleated folds of the mountainside—a slender cream-colored two-seater automobile darted ahead like an arrow, vanishing into the darkness at a sharp angle in the blink of an eye.

“Tch!”
The driver clicked his tongue.

Boredom fled from inside the automobile.
The speedometer showed its highest reading, while from the radiator, small cloud-like puffs of steam hissed out, burst apart, and scattered.
The entire car thrummed with intense, strained vibrations when the gentleman in the passenger seat jolted awake.

“Aren’t we at the toll road yet?”

“Almost there.”

The driver answered without turning around.
And in that instant, the speeding coupe’s figure flashed once more toward the pleated mountain folds ahead.

"Oh!" The gentleman leaned forward.
“He’s racing over there too? Such a fancy fellow… Who on earth could he be?”

“Probably some drunken gentleman who set out from a Hakone villa on an expedition to Atami or something,” the driver said dismissively.

The driver said dismissively.

“Shall we give chase?”

“It’s no use.
I’ve been trying since earlier... The cars aren’t matched.”

The gentleman craned his neck and peered into the outer darkness.—Through a gap in the black mountain shadows that had abruptly loomed before his eyes, an intense white light suddenly flashed and vanished instantly.
The gentleman felt something like a resolute yet noble force awaken within him and abruptly straightened his posture with dignity.

It was that very moment.
Suddenly, the automobile slowed down, and in the blink of an eye, he lurched forward, involuntarily thrusting his hand against the driver's shoulder—a sudden stop.

II

Illuminated by the headlights, a person lay collapsed on the road ahead. Raising his head to turn his face toward them, he waved one hand vigorously.

The driver had already jumped out of the automobile and started running.
The gentleman also hurriedly followed after.
The man lying collapsed was an elderly tramp-like figure.
It was a severe injury.

“...That one that just passed... It’s a crazy automobile...”

The injured man gasped out.
The gentleman promptly had the driver help him lift the injured man and carry him into the automobile.

“……I’m sorry……”
The injured man said, gasping laboriously.
“Ain’t… as ya see… just a night traveler… that bastard came sudden-like from behind… right where I tried to flee… sir… beg of ya…”

Having said that, the injured man—as if unable to speak another word—collapsed limply against the cushion, mouth agape and eyes narrowed.

The gentleman gave a firm nod, then picked up his briefcase and moved to the front passenger seat next to the driver.

“Let’s go.”
“We must hurry.”
“There’s no doctor before Hakone, is there?”

“There isn’t one.”

The automobile began running at full speed once more.

Finally, they arrived at the pass.

The road abruptly leveled out, and the rotating aviation beacon’s flashes intermittently bathed the surroundings in daylight-like brilliance.
By the time they reached this point, not a single tree was visible—just undulating hills of neatly trimmed grass stretching endlessly in every direction.

Then, from the opposite direction, an automobile approached.
The headlights' blinding glare painfully pierced their eyes.
Was that the coupe from earlier?

But that automobile was a boxy shape bearing no resemblance.
In the passenger seats sat a young couple who appeared to be newlyweds, their faces still dazed with sleep.

“Did you see the coupe just now?”

While slowing down, the driver called out to his fellow driver ahead.

“Yeah, I saw it.
“It’s at the toll road entrance!”

With that shout and a smile, the newlyweds’ car sped away.

Before long, the entrance to the Jukkoku Pass toll road came into view.

In front of the small white-painted modern-style station brightly lit by electric lamps stood a barrier resembling a railroad crossing, cutting off the road like a frontier checkpoint.

Two men stood in the middle of the road occupied with some task before the barrier, but when the automobile came to a stop before them, one of the pair entered the ticket office that doubled as an administrative booth.

The gentleman was first to jump down and hurried to the ticket office. Then, as he took out the payment from his pouch, he raised a matter unrelated to tickets.

“A moment before us, a flashy cream-colored coupe passed through here, didn’t it?”

“It passed.”
The toll clerk answered matter-of-factly.

“What kind of man was he? The one who was riding…”

“I didn’t see him.”

“You didn’t see him? But they came to buy a ticket, didn’t they?”

“No, they didn’t come. That is Mr. Horimi’s automobile.”

“What do you mean, ‘the boss’?”
The gentleman pressed impatiently.

“Yes.”
The clerk punched the ticket and handed it over. “Since this belongs to Director Horimi of our company, we don’t issue tickets for his vehicle.”

“Horimi?… Ah! That young dynamo from Gakunan Railway.”
“So Mr. Horimi was driving the coupe then?”

“Well, that…”

“There were two people in it, weren’t there?”

“No, that’s not correct.”
“One person.”
“There’s no mistake about that.”

Perhaps mistaking the gentleman’s demeanor for that of a police officer, the clerk became relatively courteous.

“In any case,”
the gentleman said to the clerk.
“This is serious.
The truth is, that coupe hit a pedestrian and fled.”

“A hit-and-run?”
The clerk shouted.
“And the injured person?”

“I took him into my car.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s in terrible shape… Probably won’t last until Hakone.”

Even as they spoke, the clerk clearly grew alarmed, his complexion visibly paling.

“Ah, so that’s it… No wonder I found it suspicious… Well, I should mention—in fact, something strange happened here too.”

“What, something strange?”
The gentleman leaned forward.

“Yes, well—since it was the executive’s automobile—when it stopped there, I immediately rushed out and began raising the barrier.”
“Then—as if in a terrible hurry—before I could even finish raising it completely—the automobile started moving,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward the road outside. “In the blink of an eye—its front roof slammed into this barrier—and raced off like a madman… We’ve been making emergency repairs until now—the two of us.”

This time, it seemed the gentleman was the one who was surprised.

"Hmm, in any case, I'm heading straight to Hakone now—Ah! There's a telephone here, isn't there?"

“There is, sir.”

“Alright. Call Hakone police immediately. Have them intercept that coupe that just passed through. Listen carefully. Even if it’s an executive or the company president himself – no exceptions.”

“Then there’s a perfect solution. Phone the toll station at Hakone Pass entrance – order them to keep their barrier locked down.”

“Brilliant plan. But given their current recklessness – won’t they just ram through the barrier?”

“It’s secure. The barrier has an iron core inside, so as long as someone like me doesn’t raise it, there’s absolutely no way through.”

“I see. Well, that’s interesting.” “In other words, a checkpoint blockade—so that’s the plan.” “The coupe hasn’t reached the other side yet, has it?”

“It probably hasn’t even gone halfway yet.”

“Alright. Then please make the call immediately. Make absolutely sure they don’t raise the barrier.”

The clerk dashed into the toll station.

Before long, the telephone bell rang out piercingly, the damaged barrier was raised, and the gentleman’s convertible automobile carrying the mortally wounded man began speeding straight down the midnight toll road toward Hakone Pass.

III

Now, while it may be presumed that most of you, dear readers, are already acquainted with the nature of Hakone's Jukkoku Pass Automobile-Exclusive Toll Road, it becomes necessary to offer a few brief explanations to ensure your precise understanding of the bizarre incident that would occur mere minutes later.

The mountain range connecting Jukkoku Pass and Hakone Pass—where this toll road was constructed—forms the main ridge of the Fuji Volcanic Range, running north-south from the base of the Izu Peninsula. To the east lies Sagami Bay, to the west Suruga Bay, while undulating grassy hills shape a watershed ridge as distinct as a horse’s spine. Along this ridge averaging 2,500 feet in elevation, Gakunan Railway Co., Ltd. acquired mountainous terrain to carve out a modern, well-lit automobile route—a venture one might anachronistically call “levying tolls” to let motorists savor sweeping vistas of clarity and grandeur.
Thus, this approximately six-*ri*-long toll road formed an independent private route, with only two stations at either end—Jukkoku-guchi and Hakone-guchi—and not a single branch road.
Moreover, as previously mentioned, barriers are lowered over the road at these stations, and under the strict surveillance of attendants, passage is generally not permitted without a ticket.
Therefore, it is impossible to enter this toll road midway and drive straight through, nor can one exit from midway along the toll road and drive away.

Though called a single ridge-hugging road, this was no several-mile straightaway but primarily a leisure-oriented tourist route—its linear beauty carefully measured to avoid wearying travelers. Everywhere unfolded pleasant smooth curves, zigzags, and endless variations of S-shaped, C-shaped, U-shaped bends that continued snaking along valley faces and mountain summits.

However, this pleasant toll road offered almost no visibility once night fell.
Especially on a sweltering dark night like this one, with low-hanging clouds pressing down, the countless bald mountains undulated in pitch-black, endless succession against a faint light seeping from near the distant horizon—resembling nothing so much as a shadow play of hellish mountains from another world.
The automobile carrying the gentleman and the injured man, threading its way along the peaks of those shadow-puppet mountains, now raced on as if pursued through the very heart of the toll road.

“Come to think of it, I did think that automobile looked familiar.”

The driver said while turning the steering wheel.

“Do you know Mr. Horimi?”
It was the gentleman in the neighboring seat.

"No, I’ve only seen him in newspaper photos."
"But I do know about his Atami villa."
"It’s in the hillside area."

“Is Mr.Horimi in Atami now?”
“Mr.Horimi?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know about that… but in any case, it’s a villa with a garage.”

The gentleman lit a cigarette and smiled contentedly.

“We didn’t encounter a single automobile, did we?… That coupe must’ve been stopped at the checkpoint by now—probably wandering around Hakone Pass.”

In the distant lower left, within the darkness, a cluster of distant lights like scattered embers could be seen.
That’s probably Mishima Town.

Soon, the automobile kicked up a cloud of dust and revved heavier, like a runner entering the final stretch.
As they entered the straight course, the white-painted station began to glint dazzlingly into view.

“Oh?”
The gentleman shouted.

“It’s not here!”
At the same time came the driver’s voice.

Indeed, in the very middle of the road, only the barrier remained lowered, with no trace of the coupe to be seen anywhere. At that moment, a black-suited man who appeared to be a clerk came dashing out and spread his arms wide, blocking the very center of the road.

The gentleman leaped down from the automobile and shouted as he slammed the door shut with a bang.

“Did you make the call?”
“It went through.”

“And why did you let it through?!”

“What?!”

"Why did you let the automobile through?!"

“……?”

The clerk looked utterly dumbfounded.
With a clattering sound, another man emerged from the direction of the office.
The gentleman looked between the two men and said in a grave tone:

“—I am Daigetsu, a criminal defense lawyer. Even if that coupe belongs to some prominent industrialist, I absolutely will not overlook a hit-and-run that leaves a person for dead.
“You should be ashamed of your own consciences.”

“W-wait a minute, please!”

The clerk who had come out later stepped forward. He was a broad-foreheaded young man who looked earnest.

“With all due respect, I’ll answer plainly—aside from your automobile, not a single kitten has come to this Hakone-guchi Station, let alone a coupe!”

IV

A few minutes later—Mr. Daigetsu’s strained voice, overlapping the bell’s lingering echo, could be heard from inside the toll station.

―Ah, hello―is this Jukkoku Pass Station?
"This is Hakone-guchi―from the automobile that transported the injured man earlier. That coupe didn't circle back your way, did it?"
"...Huh?"
"What? It didn't come... So that's it... No... It's not here either... It's truly vanished... Apparently never arrived at all. Did something happen en route?"
"Of course not―we never crossed paths... Yes, this is serious... Alright then... Thank you..."

“Ah, hello—is this Atami Police Station?”
“Is this the officer on duty?”
“This is Daigetsu, the attorney. Is there anyone available?”
“Inspector Natsuyama? …That’s fine—please transfer me…”

“Inspector Natsuyama? …Daigetsu here… No—pardon the abruptness… But a most peculiar incident has occurred… I’m currently at the Hakone-guchi toll station… Yes, an automobile hit-and-run—though it’s far stranger than a simple accident… Yes… Exactly… Yes… Naturally we gave chase… We blocked both stations and forced it onto the toll road… Yet it’s vanished… I assure you this is factual… What?”
“Yes, yes—I’ll await you… Understood. Then please come immediately… Ah—and bring an automobile rather than motorcycle… Yes—my own vehicle was dispatched to Hakone with the injured party… A grave injury, you see… Well then—until shortly…”

“Ah, hello… hello… Is this the Horimi residence in Atami?”
“Ah, I’m terribly sorry to call so late… Pardon my asking, but who might you be?… Ah, I see. I am Daigetsu, an attorney. A rather urgent matter has come up… Is your master at home?”
“……Huh?”
“...He’s away?... At the main residence in Tokyo?... Then isn’t there anyone else from the family present?”
“…What? Huh?”
“Your daughter?”
“Has she gone to Kamakura?… Is there no one else there?”
“……Huh?”
“Huh?”
“There’s one guest?… A guest won’t do… Then—this may sound strange—but does your garage have an automobile?”
“……Huh?”
“There is?”
“Is that so? Hmm, how peculiar… Actually, just moments ago, I encountered your automobile near Hakone… I couldn’t identify the occupant, but it was unmistakably a cream-colored coupe. If you doubt me, check your garage… What?”
“I see. My apologies for disturbing you so late. Well then, I’ll be waiting—please investigate quickly….”

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry… And how was the garage?”
“So the garage was completely empty after all, and… and… what? What did you say?!”
“The guest is being killed⁉……”

With a clack, Mr. Daigetsu slammed down the receiver. And, assuming a defensive stance as if bracing for something, he silently glared with a deathly-pale face at the clerks who had rushed in after him. An icy silence flowed through the room, but Mr. Daigetsu immediately regained his composure, rang the bell, and once more hastily picked up the receiver.

“—Atami Police Station!”
“...Ah, hello—is this the Atami Police Station?”
“...Has Inspector Natsuyama already left?”
“What? He’s on his way out now?”
“...This is urgent—put him through immediately...”

“Ah, Inspector Natsuyama… No—this is critical… Yes, regarding that automobile—you see, it belongs to Mr. Horimi of Gakunan Railway. I immediately called his villa just now, and—they’re reporting a murder there… Yes, precisely—the killer fled by automobile… We don’t yet know who’s behind the wheel, but I’ve secured both toll stations to prevent escape. You must go investigate the villa first—then come straight here… Please hurry…”

V

Mr. Horimi’s villa stood in a quiet part of Atami’s upland district.
Mr. and Mrs. Horimi had already returned to their main residence in Tokyo since the beginning of summer.
In their stead, their only daughter Tomiko had arrived at the villa about ten days prior with her foreign tutor, the two of them staying there; however, upon learning that a guest they detested was coming this afternoon, they had hurriedly fled as if escaping, rushing off toward Kamakura.
The one who had been killed was that guest.
His name was Oshiyama Eiichi, a wealthy young gentleman.

Mr. Horimi Ryōzō was a distinguished businessman involved with several companies beyond Gakunan Railway, but over recent years, having suffered insurmountable setbacks, he had been saddled with massive debt by Oshiyama’s father.
Whether consciously exploiting this vulnerability or not, Eiichi persistently sought after and pursued young Tomiko—who had not yet reached marriageable age—through various means.

Naturally, Tomiko detested Oshiyama as one would a hairy caterpillar.
Thus when Eiichi arrived, she and her tutor Evans left the villa in disarray.
Evans was an American-born elderly woman who had maintained close ties with the Horimi family since Tomiko’s early childhood.
From around the time Tomiko entered girls’ school, Evans had become her English tutor.
She cherished Tomiko as both daughter and granddaughter.

At the villa, there were maids—a mother and her daughter—left behind to keep watch.
Upon receiving Mr. Daigetsu’s hurried phone call, the first to be roused from deep sleep was Kiyo, the mother.

Rubbing her sleepy eyes as she stood at the telephone, Kiyo—startled by the caller’s bizarre words—immediately went outside to check. Finding neither the automobile that should have been in the garage nor the front gate closed, she thought, *What an eccentric guest...* and opened the guest room door. But upon seeing Oshiyama—still in pajamas—collapsed beside the bed drenched in crimson, she turned straight back to the telephone.

After finishing her reply to Mr. Daigetsu, Kiyo immediately called the police.
After finishing the call, she stood frozen in the telephone room, trembling and unable to move.

While flustered by the barrage of calls, Inspector Natsuyama first dispatched some officers to the toll road and rushed to Mr. Horimi’s villa with his subordinates.
The police doctor who arrived next determined that Oshiyama’s cause of death was a fatal injury from being stabbed about twice in the heart with a knife-shaped weapon.
One of the two wounds had veered sideways as if grazing—possibly a failed thrust.
The corpse had not yet been dead for even an hour.

Inspector Natsuyama seized Kiyo and promptly began a brief interrogation.
Thoroughly flustered and not a little nervous, Kiyo proceeded to recount the events exactly as they had occurred.

"...In any case, last night Mr. Oshiyama appeared to have gone out very late and returned after drinking, but then we slept soundly, so until we received a call from Mr. Daigetsu and the others, we knew nothing at all."

When Kiyo concluded her account, Inspector Natsuyama stepped outside from the entrance and, walking toward the garage while shining his flashlight, discovered two or three hurried women’s shoe prints near a puddle on the ground leading toward the garage.

In the garage, there was no automobile, and the smell of oil hung in the air.

Inspector Natsuyama spent some time examining the empty garage here and there before eventually muttering “Hmm” with a groan. Crouching down, he pulled out a handkerchief with trembling hands and, wrapping it around something, picked up a glittering object from the concrete floor.

It was a bloodstained knife.
And it was a remarkable knife, unlike anything one had ever seen.
The ivory handle—clearly designed for a woman with its delicate form and ornate relief carvings—bore finely engraved characters clustered in one corner when examined closely.
The inspector brought the flashlight in one hand closer and peered intently.

(In celebration of the 17th birthday.
1936. 2. 29)

With his eyes gleaming visibly, the Inspector carefully wrapped the knife in his handkerchief and tucked it into his pocket. Then he hurried over to the main house, where he seized Kiyo—who had been fumbling around there—and immediately began questioning her.

“By the way, how old are you?”
“You’re over fifty, aren’t you?”

“No, not yet. I’m exactly.”
“I’m exactly fifty…”

“Hmm.”
“Then your daughter?”

“Do you mean Toshi?”
“She will be eighteen…”

“Then what about Ms. Evans?”

“That person is well past sixty.”

“What about Ms. Tomiko?”

“The young mistress is seventeen this year.”

“Thank you.”
Inspector Natsuyama grinned smugly and said, “Now then, another thing—do all members of the Horimi family have spare keys to this villa?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, the young mistress as well?”

“Well… Probably…”

“Thank you,” he said, then turned to the subordinate beside him and declared energetically. “Alright, we’re done here. We’ll have the police doctor stay until the court officials arrive—we’re heading straight to the toll road now.”

VI

When Inspector Natsuyama arrived at the Jukkoku Pass entrance of the toll road, Mr. Daigetsu had already turned back from the Hakone Pass entrance in a police automobile that had been dispatched earlier and was waiting for the group at the parking area there.

At both parking areas, the first-arriving police officers had split into two groups and were keeping watch.
Mr. Daigetsu cut in immediately upon seeing the Inspector.

“Have you finished at the villa?”

“It’s not about whether we’ve finished or not, you know.
After all, since they said the culprit fled here, we rushed over in a hurry... but well, I’ve got a rough idea now.”

“Have you already figured it out?”
“Who on earth is the culprit?”

“No—rather than who or whom, hasn’t the automobile in question been found yet?”

Then Mr. Daigetsu, waving his hand impatiently,

“No—actually,”
“There’s simply no other explanation than that it must have crashed into the valley.”

“I think so too.”
“Let’s search.”

“No—the problem lies in searching itself.”
“I did check one side of the road while coming here... but with this pitch-black night and... this toll road being nearly six *ri* long, the valley running alongside it stretches endlessly.”
“What’s more, the road surface is bone-dry—no tire marks or anything—so we can’t even hazard a guess at where it might’ve gone over.”

“But we can’t afford to keep dawdling like this.”

“That’s true. Well then, let’s search the remaining side anyway. …But who on earth is the culprit?”

“The culprit? …It’s Mr. Horimi’s daughter.”

As if tossing out the words, the Inspector got into the automobile. After him, the dumbfounded group boarded. The automobile backed up and began heading toward the Hakone Pass entrance—a slow crawl at ten miles per hour.

Yet the difficulty of this search plunged everyone into an abyss of impatience before they had driven even half a mile. Since they were crawling along the valley edge, one roadside verge facing the ravine remained constantly visible in the headlight beams, but the completely dry surface showed not a single trace of where a car might have skidded off. If only there had been guardrails along the roadside that showed damage, they could have pinpointed the crash location; but being an automobile-only thoroughfare unused by pedestrians, such guardrails and barriers existed only as sleek, white-painted structures arranged decoratively here and there—utterly useless.

The meaningless, gloomy search continued for a while, and eventually the automobile approached a sharp S-shaped curve devoid of guardrails.
Inspector Natsuyama clicked his tongue impatiently.
The automobile smoothly rounded the curve and began heading toward Jukkoku Pass, as if retracing its previous path.

The end of the S-shaped curve formed a large, angular C-shaped bend.
They had driven just twenty meters past a road sign bearing an arrow shaped like an inverted L when it happened.
What he had seen made Mr. Daigetsu suddenly jolt and hastily begin to rise from his seat,

“Stop, please!”

The police officer immediately applied the brakes.

Mr. Daigetsu opened the door, stood on the step, and spoke to the police officer inside.

“Keep backing up in this direction… That’s right… More… More… Good—stop!”

To the people, it made no sense at all.

Mr. Daigetsu took the passenger seat and, returning to his previous posture, spoke.
It was an extremely tense, trembling voice.

“Now, once again—this time, please move forward.”
“At the slowest possible speed—oh! The coupe’s interior light had been turned off.”
“The interior can’t be lit up.”
“Please turn it off.”

The automobile turned off its lights and began to move.

“What on earth is going on?”

In the darkness, Inspector Natsuyama burst out impatiently.

“No—I’ve almost got it.”
“The truth is within reach.”
“It will appear now.”

“What’s going to come out?”

“It’s about to show itself. Please wait.”

The automobile continued crawling toward its previous position.
It was just before the final bend of the C-shaped curve.
Because the road bent sharply to the left, within the headlights' beam lay only the clear space of the pitch-black valley.

Mr. Daigetsu, who was looking ahead, suddenly shouted.

“There it is! Stop!”

“What appeared?” It was the Inspector.

“It’s already gone. It’ll reappear any moment now. You can’t see it from there. Come all the way over here.”

Inspector Natsuyama leaned out and thrust his face next to Mr. Daigetsu in the driver’s seat to peer ahead.

“I can’t see anything.”

“No—it’ll appear any moment now… There! There it is—see? No—it’s not outside the automobile. It’s right here on the glass window before us.”

“Ah!”

On the surface of the window glass right before their eyes, a sign depicting an impossible right-turn arrow—like an inverted L—appeared brightly, closely, and distinctly.
But it was immediately swallowed up by the darkness and vanished.

The road before their eyes bent to the left, yet the phantom sign pointed to the right!

7

“No—your act of seeing what was reflected in the glass and immediately turning to look at the rear window was correct.”

Eventually, Mr. Daigetsu—having said that—tapped the Inspector’s shoulder in an impressed manner.

――From the square glass window behind the seats, only the faintly red and blurred road surface illuminated by the tail lamp was visible right beneath their eyes, with everything else swallowed by ink-black darkness—until suddenly, within that void, an intense light leaking from somewhere bathed the roadside sign the automobile had just passed, causing it to emerge in vivid clarity.
And those phantom-like signs in the darkness would emerge only to vanish instantly, then reappear and disappear again, layering vivid afterimage upon vivid afterimage in the depths of the onlookers’ eyes.

“It’s a trick of chance,” Mr. Daigetsu said. “That flash comes from an aviation beacon shining diagonally beyond the small hill beside us. From our position, when the beacon illuminates the left-curve warning sign in the darkness ahead, its light passes through the rear window and projects onto this front glass as a right-curve sign.”

“The coupe had its interior light off,” he continued. “The valley air was crystal clear, letting the headlights dissolve into the darkness. Moreover, this slanted glass meant only someone leaning forward in the driver’s seat could see the reflection.”

“But still—to mistake this fleeting phantom for reality and drive into the valley… That’s beyond ordinary human judgment.”

“I’ve got it now.”
“Regardless—let’s descend and inspect immediately.”

At the Inspector’s statement, the people abandoned the automobile and stood at the edge of the valley.
When they crouched into the headlights’ glow to investigate, traces suggesting where the coupe had slid into the valley were soon found at the edge where the roadside grass met the soil.

“We should be able to descend here. The slope’s gentle, you know.”

Inspector Natsuyama said this while swinging his flashlight across the mountainside, then took the lead in beginning the descent.

“Inspector Natsuyama,” Mr. Daigetsu called out while following him down the slope.
“Even so, do you have any evidence that the culprit is Mr. Horimi’s daughter?”

“The murder weapon.”
The Inspector tossed out the words as he walked.
“A fashionable lady’s knife engraved with commemorative text for a seventeenth birthday.”
“And it’s dated through this spring… While Miss Tomiko happens to be seventeen this year.”

Mr. Daigetsu silently nodded and, treading down the grass while doing so, began descending the mountainside relying on the faint light.
But before long, he suddenly stopped.

“Inspector Natsuyama… When someone is born and reaches their second year, their first birthday arrives. When they turn three, their second birthday comes… That’s right—if someone is seventeen this year, they’ve only had sixteen birthdays.”

“Huh? What?”

Inspector Natsuyama involuntarily turned around.

“Inspector Natsuyama… If there have been seventeen birthdays, the knife’s owner would be eighteen.”

“Eighteen…?” The Inspector stood frozen for a moment as if in a daze, then flusteredly pulled out a notebook from his pocket and opened it with trembling hands. “This is inexcusable.
“You’re absolutely right.
“And… we do have an eighteen-year-old girl right here.”

“Who?”

“The maid Toshi!”

At that very moment, illuminated by a police officer’s flashlight, a large, disheveled trace was found on a slightly flat part of the mountainside.

“So that’s where it tumbled—the automobile…”
“The automobile…”

Mr. Daigetsu shouted.

“We’re almost there.”
“Let’s hurry.”

The people began wandering in silence.
From this point onward, brambles and nameless shrubs began mingling among the weeds.
Before long, Mr. Daigetsu picked up the coupe’s spare wheel lying in the shade of a withered shrub.
The people grew increasingly restless in silence.
Small lights darted across the mountainside as the rustle of hems brushing through vegetation reached their ears—then Inspector Natsuyama jolted to a halt.

Right in the hollow below their eyes lay an unmistakable cream-colored coupe, exposing its pitch-black underbelly as it performed a wretched handstand.

Both Inspector Natsuyama and Mr. Daigetsu wordlessly leapt down into the hollow and pried open the coupe’s door while it remained upside down.

“Ah!” cried Inspector Natsuyama.

The automobile’s interior was hollow as a cicada’s shed shell. However, before long, Mr. Daigetsu crouched down and grabbed several long strands of white hair—defiled by blood and grotesquely tangled—from the surface of the seat behind the driver’s position.

The coupe presented a truly wretched sight.
Every pane of glass had shattered; the rear axle had bent with a sickening crunch; the opposite door had been torn off and flung somewhere.
Not a trace remained of the small accessories.

However, before long, the people found a trail of bloodstains dotted across the weeds beyond the torn-off door opening.
The culprit, though injured, had miraculously survived.
The people immediately began tracking the bloodstains.

“So it’s a white-haired girl now, huh… Hmph—what evidence have you actually secured?”
“Please show me that knife you mentioned.”

At Mr. Daigetsu’s words, while walking, the inspector sullenly took out the knife wrapped in a handkerchief from his pocket.

Mr. Daigetsu received the knife while walking and, shining the flashlight on it, began reading the characters carved into the ivory handle.
He stopped abruptly, his eyes growing visibly brighter as he did so, and barked at the Inspector’s shoulder.

“Couldn’t you see this date? You’re not blind… Well, people who celebrate their birthday on February 29 must have been born on February 29, right? However, February 29th only occurs in leap years… which means this person’s birthday only comes once every four years. When this person has celebrated seventeen birthdays, how old do you suppose they would be? …Over sixty years old.”

“Understood!”

As Inspector Natsuyama started to rush out in a panic, Mr. Daigetsu suddenly raised his hand to stop him.

Right before their eyes, from beyond an especially large thicket of bushes came the frantic rustling of leaves. The people stealthily approached. As they rounded the thicket’s shadow, Inspector Natsuyama abruptly swept his flashlight beam across the area ahead.

A black figure on all fours—smaller than expected—was dragging its chin painfully, yet crawling frantically through the grass away from them. But as soon as it had the light at its back, it stopped abruptly and turned sharply toward them.

“Evans!”

Truly—the white-haired, small white face of Evans. It was Evans’s face—distorted by the nobility that had protected her beloved Tomiko’s purity to the very end, and by the terror and remorse of her crime.

(From *Shin Seinen*,
August 1936 issue)