She shook her head, half pleased and still resentful towards both her visitors—to me for refusing her brother and to Lilian for coming to visit her.

She poured out the tea and Toby carried a cup to Lilian.

“Delicious!” said Lilian. “Just like home. All this ceremony here makes me laugh. Jumbo is always telling me I mustn’t laugh. They don’t like it. But that tea ceremony really is too funny. When all you have to do is heat the pot and pour boiling water on the leaves. But what ones they are for ceremony! I think the women are rather pretty though, don’t you? Now Mr. Grantham, you are not going to deny that.”

“They have a certain charm,” agreed Toby.

“You know the secret of this charm, don’t you?” She was smiling archly at me. “It’s the complete subservience to the male. They live to serve the man. They are brought up with that purpose in mind. Look at their poor little feet. I must say they do sway along rather gracefully. But fancy deliberately maiming oneself just to please some man.”

“I suppose we have to accept the fact that it’s an ancient custom,” I said. “It’s an indication of their social status.”

“Of course. Things are different here. There is the mysterious Chan Cho Lan.”

Elspeth pursed her lips. She did not like the way the conversation was going.

“I’ll give you the recipe for my shortbreads if you like,” she said to Lilian.

“You’re an angel. Jumbo loves them. I don’t know whether they’re good for him though. He’s putting on weight at an alarming rate.”

“Good Scottish shortbread never hurt anyone,” said Elspeth sharply.

“Nor good old haggis, eh! You must give me the recipe for that, too. What was I saying before we got onto this fascinating subject of food? Oh, Chan Cho Lan. Have you met her, Mrs. Milner?”

I said I had. She was certainly a remarkable woman.

“Beautiful in a way… if you like that sort of thing,” said Lilian. She looked sly. “And lots of men do… Europeans, I mean, as well as Chinese. So feminine, so graceful… and with those inbred notions about the superiority of the masculine sex.”

“When I met her she gave me the impression of having a high opinion of her own,” I said.

“Of herself no doubt,” retorted Lilian. “Then she sees herself as a liaison between male and female.”

“I’ll give you the recipe for the haggis if you like,” said Elspeth.

“That’s good of you, my dear Miss Grantham. Poor Jumbo. He’s in for a treat. I wonder what my Chinese cook will make of it? At home we would probably call her a procuress.”

Elspeth said: “I never heard such a thing.”

“It depends on whether you call a spade a spade,” went on the imperturbable Lilian. “You know she has her school for young ladies. She has them when they are babies. Parents of unwanted children send them to her… if they are girls, and heaven knows in this place if a poor child happens to be a girl it’s not wanted.”

“I’ve seen them perilously wandering about the sampans,” I said.

“You can be sure if a child falls overboard and drowns that child is certain to be a girl,” said Lilian. “But she takes them in, teaches them to sing and embroider and some she makes into dancing girls to entertain her guests, clients perhaps one should say. It’s quite a lucrative business I imagine.”

“I suppose she cares for the girls from their babyhood.”

“She does. It’s not many years. Girls of twelve are ready to go into service as they say. It’s all very honorable here and she’s known as a matchmaker. Of course quite a lot of our gentlemen visit the establishment.” She leaned towards me and lowered her voice confidentially. “We have to give them a little license, don’t we.”

“License!” cried Elspeth. “What talk is this!”

“Dear Miss Grantham. Your heart is in the Highlands but this is not Bonnie Scotland.”

“I’m a Lowlander,” said Elspeth tartly, “and I’m well aware of the location.”

“Manners are different. These mandarins with whom our husbands do their business for instance. They live with a wife and their concubines all in one establishment… and it’s all very amicable. The wife is happy to be Supreme Lady and the concubines are happy if they are visited by the master now and then…”

Elspeth was growing pinker every minute. She didn’t like this conversation at all. Nor did I, for I sensed that it was full of innuendos and that she was trying to tell me something. I knew what.

Joliffe had visited Chan Cho Lan’s establishment. I thought: Are people talking about Joliffe? This woman would see that if there was anything disreputable to be hinted about anyone, she would be at hand to do the hinting.

“Our husbands see the way these mandarins live,” went on Lilian. “It’s natural that they should attempt to try that way of life, European style of course. I can’t see Jumbo bringing his concubines into our house. Can you see Joliffe?”

“No,” I said. “It would not be permitted.”

She seemed to be convulsed with secret laughter.

“But we mustn’t grudge them their little visits, must we?”

“I don’t know,” I said calmly, for she was looking straight at me. “I think it would depend on the reason.”

“Men,” said Lilian waving a hand as though to include the whole sex. “They will always concoct a plausible excuse for anything, won’t they?”

I said: “I think I should be getting back.”

“Can I drop you in my rickshaw?” asked Lilian.

“Thanks, I have my own.”

“I’ll go back with you,” said Toby. “You’ll have Elspeth’s lamp to take.”

When we were in the rickshaw he said: “That’s a pernicious woman.”

“She’s always hinting at something. She makes everyone so uncomfortable.”

“I think,” said Toby succinctly, “that that is the object of the exercise. Elspeth will give her short shrift.”

I was sure of it.

We did not speak very much after that but when we reached the house and we said goodbye, he held my hand firmly. He said: “Any time you want anything send for me… I’ll be waiting.”

I thought what a pleasant comforting phrase that was as I went into the house. “I’ll be waiting.”


* * *

I was feeling better. I would pretend to take tea and when I was alone I never drank it. If there were visitors I did because I knew then that the tea would be untainted. I used to lock myself in my room and make myself tea on Elspeth’s spirit lamp. When I had used the lamp I would lock it away in one of my cupboards. This little subterfuge in a way stimulated me. Or perhaps my natural vitality was returning. I had tried to make my mind a blank. I didn’t want to suspect anyone, but I had to make every effort to find out what was happening and whether in truth someone was threatening my life.

What seemed so odd was the method chosen. I was not to be killed outright. I was to be made weak and then everyone was to believe that I suffered from hallucinations. There was a method in it for when I was very weak and had been so for some time my death would surprise no one.

This was what had happened to Sylvester. I was certain of that now.

He had had no idea. He had accepted the weakening of his body as a natural effect of the sedentary life he was forced to lead.

“Sylvester,” I murmured. “What happened? I wish you could come back and tell me.”

Whenever possible I directed the rickshaw man to take me in such a way that we passed Chan Cho Lan’s house.

Sometimes I would say, “Slow down. We’re nearly there.” They were not suspicious because during my journey I often asked them to stop or slow down. I was so sorry for them, running as they did with their burdens. Sometimes I looked into their wizened faces and I seemed to see a certain hopelessness there. It was as though they accepted the fact that this was their lot in life. They were meek and uncomplaining, but looked so tired sometimes; and I had heard that the life of a rickshaw man was not a long one.

They were faintly amused by my concern, I think. Whether they were grateful or not, I could not say. They thought me odd. I think perhaps I lost face with many of the servants by allowing myself to consider these menials. I didn’t care. I was happy to lose as much face as they wished in such a cause.

It was on one of these occasions when I again saw Joliffe going into Chan Cho Lan’s house.

When I reached The House of a Thousand Lanterns I went to my room and asked myself why Joliffe called there.

Chan Cho Lan and Joliffe. How long? I wondered. Lilian Lang knew. This was what she was hinting. She had told me as plainly as she dared that Joliffe kept a Chinese mistress and that mistress might well be the inscrutable fascinating Chan Cho Lan herself.

There was so much that I did not know. It seemed that often outsiders knew more of one’s affairs than one did oneself. A man’s secret life was often secret only to his wife. Others quickly learned about it, whispered about it and if they were kindly, kept it from the one it most concerned and if they were malicious they betrayed it.

Now I was building up the picture. Could it possibly be that Joliffe wished to marry Chan Cho Lan? That was not possible. He could not marry anyone because he was married to me. But if I were not here…

I tried to push such thoughts out of my head.

Joliffe came in.

“Jane, my darling, I wondered if you’d be in.”

I was caught up in an embrace. He smelled mainly of a mixture of jasmine and frangipani.

I did not have to ask myself where I had smelled that before.


* * *

“Do you often go to Chan Cho Lan’s house, Joliffe?” I asked.

“I have been.”

“Recently?”

“Yes recently.”

“Do you have business with her? Is she interested in some collector’s piece?”

“She is always interested in collectors’ pieces.”

“So that is why you went to see her… recently?”

“There is another matter, Jane.”

My heart began to beat faster. Was he going to tell me now? Was he going to explain to me, confess that he had a mistress, that there was much I had to learn about life here, that I had to adjust my views…

That I would never accept, I thought fiercely.

“It’s Lottie,” he said.

“Lottie! What has she to do with this?”

“Everything,” he said. “Chan Cho Lan is going to find a husband for her.”

“Lottie mentioned something of this to me.”

“She should marry. She is now of an age.”

“Is it marriage… or a liaison?”

“Marriage.”

“Lottie seemed to think that because her feet had not been mutilated this would be impossible.”

“It would probably be so with someone who is entirely Chinese. The husband Chan Cho Lan has in mind for her is half English half Chinese like Lottie herself.”

“So the reason you visit Chan Cho Lan is to arrange this?”

“Yes.”

“I can smell the perfume of her house on your clothes.”

“What a nose you have, my darling.”

“You make me sound like the wolf in Red Riding Hood. All the better I should say to smell out your secrets.”

He kissed me lightly on the nose. “What a mercy that I have none from you,” he said.

“I should have thought that Lottie’s matrimonial affairs should be discussed with me rather than you.”

“Oh, you don’t know the Chinese. It’s the men who arrange these matters.”

He was so plausible. When I was near him I believed him. How could I ever have thought that he would deceive me?

I was always swamped by my love for him, by my need of him; for that tremendous physical bond which held us together.

I would believe him now that we were together. Later perhaps in the night when I awoke suddenly and looked towards the door for fear that I should see the Mask of Death, the doubts would come back again.

Someone in this house had threatened me.

I would find out who, and in order to do so I must not allow myself to be deluded.


* * *

I had always known that Joliffe liked Lottie and she him, although I think she had been disappointed when I married. Not exactly disappointed but fearful. She knew of course that Jason was his son and that something had gone wrong. She probably put all this down to the inscrutable ways of the foreign devils.

Now I began to notice certain glances between them. A fondness in his expression when he spoke to her or of her; of Lottie I could not be sure. Those giggles which indicate tragedy or amusement had always bemused me.