The following story was originally published as 「シルクハット」in the April 1928 issue of magazine Mystery Fan「探偵趣味」.

Nakamura and I had both received a ten-yen pay raise.

I sold Nakamura my worn-out old derby for ten more yen, added five yen to that, and bought a top hat.

I had long dreamed of wearing a top hat, just once, before I grew old. I desperately wanted to know what it was like to place that luxurious presence atop my head.

Using a small velvet cushion, I stroked and stroked the nap of the hat. In the milliner’s mirror, amid the gay electric lights, the hat seemed made for me.

As for Nakamura, he stuffed his old black felt hat into his bag and put on my derby instead. It made him look like Mussolini.

After leaving the milliner’s, we went to the harbor, as usual, to a public hotel on the beach, to buy women. Payday was the only day of the month we allowed ourselves the treat of spending our meagre salaries on the company of women.

The top hat set the women at the hotel astir, as I had expected. Mine stared, eyes wide, apparently more flustered than impressed. Since the previous month, she had grown so pale and thin that I almost didn’t recognize her. I had heard that her health was poor; apparently it had deteriorated further.

As she danced with me, she grew short of breath and eventually began to tremble. When I noticed this, I stopped dancing at once and pulled her onto my lap.

"You seemed to be having some difficulty," I offered.

"I’m all right now… but I may not have long to live," she replied. Her voice was raspy.

Nakamura was with his usual girl. She was plump, with her hair cut in a boyish style. They had drunk several German beers and were now dancing a dubious Argentine tango. Her brow was fierce and villainous-looking, but Nakamura said that was exactly what he liked about her.

Before we went into the bedrooms, we paid separately.

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