Japanese Tales of Mystery & Imagination - Edogawa Rampo [71]
"My mother too worried over his strange habits and tried in every possible way to make him tell her the reason for his low spirits, but all to no avail. This state of affairs lasted for about a month.
"At last, I became so anxious to know where he went that one day I followed him secretly. On this particular day, too, it was cloudy and muggy, just like today. As had become his custom, it was a little past noon when my brother went out, clad in his smart black velvet suit, with his prized binoculars dangling from his shoulder.
"Following him at a safe distance, I saw him hurrying down the road leading to the horse-tramway stop at Nihonbashi. A moment later he got on an Asakusa-bound horsecar. As the cars ran rather infrequently, it was impossible for me to follow him in the next car. So I quickly hailed a rickshaw.
"'Quick! Follow that horsecar!' I ordered.
"The rickshawman proved fleet of foot and was able to keep the horsecar within sight with ease. Arriving at Asakusa Park, I saw my brother get off. I dismissed the rickshaw and continued to follow him on foot. And where do you think he finally arrived? At the Kwannon Temple in Asakusa Park.
"Unaware that he was being followed, my brother threaded his way through the crowds along the red-fronted shopping street, passed the main building of the temple, and then proceeded, through an even thicker throng converged around the show-booths at the rear, to the Junikai.
"He walked purposefully up to the stone gate, paid his admission fee, and disappeared into the tower. I, of course, was completely astonished, for I had never dreamed that my brother had been coming to this familiar landmark day after day. Young as I was—I was still in my teens then—I even thought that my brother might have been possessed by some evil spirit inhabiting the tower.
"For myself, I had climbed it only once, with my father, and never after that, so I felt rather uneasy about going in again. But, since my brother had gone in, I had no choice but to enter and go up the dark, stone stairs after him, keeping a safe distance behind. The windows were small and the brick wall was thick, so it was cool inside, just like a cave. On one wall hung several macabre war paintings done in oils—it was the time of the Sino-Japanese War.
"Higher and higher rose the gloomy stairway, just like the spiralling grooves in the shell of a snail. At the top of the tower there was a balcony, with a railing running around the edge. When I finally reached the balcony my eyes were dazzled by the sudden brightness, because the narrow, winding passage from the ground had been long and dark. Above me, the clouds were hanging low—so low, in fact, that I felt I could almost reach up with my hands and touch them.
"When I looked around, I saw all the roofs of Tokyo in a weird jumble, while on the distant horizon I could clearly make out the Bay of Tokyo. Directly below me I saw the Kwannon Temple, looking like a doll's house, and the many show-booths. As for the people, they all looked as if they had only heads and feet.
"Close beside me, I saw about ten other spectators huddled close together admiring the view. My brother stood apart from them, gazing eagerly at the compound of Asakusa Park through his binoculars. As I watched him from behind, I noted that his black velvet clothes stood out in sharp relief against the gray clouds. He looked so much like a figure in a Western oil-painting—austere and saintly—that for a moment I even hesitated to call out to him, although I well knew that he was really my brother.
"Remembering my mission, however, I couldn't remain silent. Going up to him, I asked abruptly: 'What are you looking at, brother?'
"He started, then wheeled around with a look of extreme annoyance.
"'Your recent strange behavior is causing Father and Mother untold anxiety,' I continued.