"And Mr. Tyrer?"
"He's fine, Miss, just a flesh wound. We best be going."
"How far is it?"
Lun said irritably, "Ayeeyah no far chop chop never mind." He lifted the lamp and set off into the night, muttering busily in Cantonese.
Insolent bastard, the officer thought. He was tall, Lieutenant R.n., his name John Marlowe. They began to follow. At once the marines moved into a protective screen, scouts ahead. "Are you all right, Miss Angelique?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you." She pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders, picking her way carefully. "What an awful smell!"
"'fraid it's the manure they use for fertilizers, that and low tide." Marlowe was twenty-eight, sandy-haired and grey-blue-eyed, normally Captain of H.m.s. Pearl, a 21-gun steam-driven frigate, but now acting Flag Lieutenant to the ranking naval officer, Admiral Ketterer. "Would you like a litter?"
"Thank you, no, I'm fine."
Lun was ahead slightly, lighting their way through the narrow, empty village streets. Most of Kanagawa was silent, though occasionally they could hear boisterous and drunken laughter of men and women behind high walls that were pierced from time to time by small barred doorways. A multitude of decorative Japanese signs.
"These are inns, hotels?" she asked.
"I would imagine so," Marlowe said delicately.
Lun chuckled quietly, hearing this exchange.
His English was fluent--learned in a missionary school in Hong Kong. On instructions he carefully hid the fact and always used pidgin and pretended to be stupid so he knew many secrets that had great value to him, and to his tong superiors, and to their leader, Illustrious Chen, Gordon Chen, compradore of Struan's. A compradore, usually a well born Eurasian, was the indispensable go-between betwixt European and Chinese traders, who could speak fluent English and Chinese dialects, and to whose hands at least ten percent of all transactions stuck.
Ah, haughty young Missy who feeds on unrequited lust, Lun thought with vast amusement, knowing lots about her, I wonder which of these smelly Round Eyes will be the first to spread you wide and enter your equally smelly Jade Gate? Are you as untouched as you pretend, or has the grandson of Green-eyed Devil Struan already enjoyed the Clouds and the Rain? By all gods great and small, I shall know soon enough because your maid is my sister's third cousin's daughter. I already know your short hairs need plucking, are as fair as your hair and much too abundant to please a civilized person but I suppose all right for a barbarian. Ugh!
Ayeeyah, but life is interesting. I'll wager this murder attack will cause both foreign devils and the Filth Eaters of these islands much trouble. Wonderful! May they all drown in their own feces!
Interesting that the grandson of Green-eyed Devil was wounded badly, and so continues the bad joss of all males of his line, interesting that the news is already rushing secretly to Hong Kong by our fastest courier. How wise I am! But then I am a person of the Middle Kingdom and of course superior.
But a bad wind for one is good for another. This news will surely depress the share price of the Noble House mightily. With advanced information I and my friends will make a great profit. By all the gods, I will put ten percent of my profit on the next horse at Happy Valley races with the number fourteen, today's date by barbarian counting.
"Ho!" he called out, pointing. The central turrets of the temple loomed over the alleys and lanes of the tiny, single-story houses, all separate though clustered in honeycombs.
Two Grenadiers and their Sergeant were on guard at the temple gates, well lit with oil lamps, Babcott beside them. "Hello, Marlowe," he said with a smile. "This is an unexpected pleasure, evening, Mademoiselle. What's--"
"Pardon, Doctor," Angelique interrupted, peering up at him, astounded at his size, "but Malcolm, Mr. Struan, we heard he was badly wounded."
"He has had quite a bad sword cut, but he's been sewn up and now he's fast asleep," Babcott said easily. "I gave him a sedative. I'll take you to him in a second. What's up, Marlowe, why--"
"And Phillip Tyrer?" she interrupted again.
"Is he, was he badly wounded too?"
"Just a flesh wound, Mademoiselle, there's nothing you can do at the moment, both are sedated.
Why the marines, Marlowe?"
"The Admiral thought you'd better have some extra protection--in case of an evacuation."
Babcott whistled. "It's that serious?"
"There's a meeting going on right now. The Admiral, the General, Sir William together with the French, German, Russian and American representatives and the, er, the trading fraternity." Marlowe added dryly, "I gather it's rather heated." He turned to the Royal Marine Sergeant. "Secure the Legation, Sar'nt Crimp, I'll inspect your posts later."
To the Grenadier Sergeant he added, "Please give Sar'nt Crimp the help he needs, where to billet his men, etc. Your name please?"
"Towery, sir."
"Thank you, Sar'nt Towery."
Babcott said, "Perhaps you'd both follow me?
A cup of tea?"
"Thank you, no," she said, trying to be polite but consumed with impatience, disliking the way the English brewed tea and offered it at the slightest provocation. "But I would like to see Mr. Struan and Mr. Tyrer."
"Of course, right away." The doctor had already judged that she was near to tears at any moment, decided she really did need a cup of tea, perhaps laced with a little brandy, a sedative and then to bed. "Young Phillip, poor chap had quite a shock I'm afraid--must have been dreadful for you too."
"Is he all right?"
"Yes, quite all right," he repeated patiently. "Come along, see for yourself." He led the way through the courtyard. The clatter of hooves and harness stopped them. To their surprise they saw a Dragoon patrol arriving. "Good God, it's Pallidar," Marlowe said.
"What's he doing here?"
They watched the Dragoon officer return the salutes of the marines and grenadiers and dismount.
"Carry on," Pallidar said, not noticing Marlowe, Babcott and Angelique.
"Bloody bastard Japanners tried to bloody bar the road against us, by God!
Unfortunately the sons of whores changed their bloody, God-cursed minds or they'd be pushing up bloody daisies and..." He saw Angelique and stopped, appalled. "Jesus Christ! Oh, I say, I am... I am most terrible sorry, Mademoiselle, I, er, I didn't realize there were any ladies... er, hello John, Doctor."
Marlowe said, "Hello Settry.
Mademoiselle Angelique, may I introduce plainspoken Captain Settry Pallidar, of Her Majesty's Eighth Dragoons. Mademoiselle Angelique Richaud."
She nodded coolly and he bowed stiffly.
"I'm, er, most awfully sorry, Mademoiselle. Doc, I was sent to secure the Legation, in case of an evacuation."
"The Admiral already sent us here to do that,"
Marlowe said crisply. "With marines."
"You can dismiss them, we're here now."