"I don't know for sure, suh, but I'd bet on it."
"Then somewhere else? Later?"
"No, here's fine, but he's very wily and I don't want him to get suspicious. The price: If my information assists you to block Morgan's plan to sink you and bankrupts Brocks."
"You know the details?"
Gornt laughed softly, "Oh yes and much more, not that Morgan or Old Man Brock know I know, or Mr. Greyforth." He dropped his voice even more, his lips hardly moving. "This all has to be kept secret between us but the price is you break Morgan Brock, pursue him into bankruptcy, or prison if you can--if it's necessary to break Tyler it's all the same to me, but out of the wreckage you guarantee that I get their fifty percent interest in Rothwell's free and clear; that you assist me with the Victoria Bank to raise what's necessary to buy out Jeff Cooper's half; that for ten years you don't come after me other than a normal competitor, giving me favored nation status on any business dealings--all in a letter contract, written and signed by you. After ten years the gloves are off."
"Agreed," Malcolm said at once, expecting harsher conditions. "But the Victoria bastards aren't our friends, Brock started that bank and have excluded us always, so we won't be much help there."
"They soon will be, suh. Soon the whole Board will fart if you say fart. This all must be kept very secret, of course. What do you plan after the duel?"
Malcolm did not hesitate, finding it so strange that he could trust this man so immediately, telling him about going aboard Prancing Cloud.
"This presumes I'm the winner and not hurt badly. Once I'm in Hong Kong I can simmer things down," he said confidentially.
"What about your shooting? I mean having to use sticks?"
"One is fine to balance with, for that amount of time." Malcolm smiled thinly. "I've been practicing."
"Now, I propose a deception to avoid legal repercussions that worked well in Virginia and should do the same here, in case either of you is killed: you both write the other a letter, dated and delivered the night before the duel, saying that you have mutually agreed to call the duel off "at the No-Man's-Land rendezvous tomorrow, and you will both accept, as gentlemen, a mutual, simultaneous apology from the other."" Gornt smiled. "We, the seconds will testify that tragically, while you were showing each other your pistols, one went off."
"A fine idea. Has Norbert agreed?"
"Yes. I'll deliver his letter to you, Tuesday, send him his by Mr. McFay, but best keep it secret, that it's a device."
"Tuesday" kept echoing in Malcolm's head but he forced it aside. Gornt was saying, matter-of-fact, "After the duel--it would be best if you kill him, not wound him--I'll come out to the clipper with you. In exchange for the written contract, I'll lay out the details how you can utterly wreck Brock's financial safety net, with a package of authenticated copies of letters and documents, enough for any court of law, and others that hand you a cudgel to use with the Victoria."
Malcolm felt the glow deep within him. "Why not now, why wait till Wednesday?"
"Mr. Greyforth might kill you," Gornt said calmly, "then the knowledge would be wasted and I would have put myself at risk for no reason."
After a pause Malcolm said, "Say he does, or wounds me badly, how do you get the revenge you seek?"
"I'll approach Mrs. Struan, suh, at once. I'm gambling that won't be necessary. I gamble on you, not her."
"I heard you did not gamble, Mr. Gornt."
"At cards for money, no suh, never--I saw the futility of that with my stepfather. With life?
To the limit." Gornt felt eyes on him and said softly, "Someone's watching," and he glanced around. It was Angelique, coming out of the Struan's, across the street. She waved.
Malcolm waved back and got up. The two men watched her approach.
"Hello, Angel," Malcolm said warmly, the Admiral's words dancing in his head. "May I introduce Mr. Edward Gornt of Rothwell's in Shanghai? My fiancee, Mademoiselle Richaud."
"Ma'am!" Gornt took her hand and kissed it gallantly.
"Mr. Gornt," she murmured, reading his eyes. There was an abrupt, curious silence between the three of them, then for no apparent reason they burst out laughing.
"What is it?" she asked, her heart picking up beat.
"Joie de vivre," Gornt said.
She looked up at him, liking what she saw, warmed by the smile, then took Malcolm's arm, already relating the encounter in the letter she had interrupted: I confess, dearest Colette, I spied them on the promenade so put on my best bonnet and took them by surprise, and my Malcolm's arm (Defensively) for this new arrival is tall and handsome with the naughtiest glint behind his eyes that I saw instantly, though Malcolm could not possibly be aware of, or he would have been more jealous than usual, poor dear! I wanted to meet this tall stranger casually. He has the slightest of Southern accents, broad shoulders, narrow waist, a fencer probably, and glorious dancer--I do hope he'll be a friend, I need them here so much...
"La, cheri," she said, fanning herself against the immediate and pleasing internal heat, a subconscious feline reaction to Gornt's masculinity. "Excuse me, I didn't mean to interrupt an important conference ..."
"You didn't, Angel," Malcolm said.
"I was just leaving," Gornt said. No need to conceal all of his admiration. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am." He bowed.
"Good day, suh, I shall be in touch."
They watched him walk off. "Who is this Mr.Gornt?"
He told her, but nothing in fact about the real Mr. Gornt. He was fogged by the thought of Tuesday.
"More pork in black bean sauce, Younger Sister?" Ah Tok asked, chomping on a piece of fish.
"Thank you." Ah Soh reached over with her chopsticks to replenish her bowl, then snapped up the choice, quick fried prawn she had ogled.
"Please continue, Elder Sister."
The two women were in Ah Tok's room, their lunch spread out in a multitude of dishes, a fresh pot of jasmine tea close at hand.
"Ayeeyah, it's very difficult. Illustrious Chen gave no clear instructions."
"That's not like him." Ah Soh took more of the succulent pieces of beef in oyster sauce.
"Not like him, not at all."
"I agree, but then his new concubine, the whore from Soo Chow, is sure to be taking most of his concentration."
"Ayeeyah! Is it true she's fourteen with no pubics?"
Ah Tok took up another bony piece of fish head and sucked it appreciatively.
"It's only the Garlic People of Chosen who don't have pubics." She spat the bones onto the floor and selected another part.
"Interesting. I wonder if it's all the garlic they eat? May I re-read his letter, Elder Sister?"
It said: Greetings, Ah Tok, Sixth Cousin Twice Removed, You did very well to consult me at once. The cork of the bottle revealed clear traces of Dark of the Moon which must be the Expeller of Dog Land in the Eastern Sea.
An abortion! The whore was wise and unwise to use it, the Master wise and unwise to advocate it. Until we know if he made the decision, or she did without his knowledge, you must do nothing. Cousin, listen to him sleeping-- he's always muttered in his sleep since a child--perhaps he will tell you more. Instruct Ah Soh to do likewise and both of you be like bats.