McFay hissed. "First I don't believe you, second, even if it was we've the right to know, we're the State, by God, not a bunch of diplomat scallywags who can't fart their way out of an empty bag!"
"Now look here..."
"I'm looking. Share, Phillip, or read about it in the afternoon edition." McFay's beam was seraphic as he sopped up the last of the gravy with a final hunk of bread, and consumed it. He belched and pushed his chair away from the table and began to get up. "On your own head."
"Wait."
"Everything? You agree to tell me everything?"
Numbly Tyrer nodded. "If you swear to keep it secret."
"Good, but not here. My office's safer. Come on." As he passed Nettlesmith he said, "What's new, Gabriel?"
"Read the afternoon edition, Jamie. War soon in Europe, terrible in America, war brewing here."
"Just the usual. Well, see y--"
"Afternoon, Mr. Tyrer." Nettlesmith's canny eyes washed over him as he scratched thoughtfully then put his attention to McFay again.
"I've an advanced copy of the last chapter of Great Expectations."
Jamie shuddered to a stop, Phillip too.
"I don't believe it, by God!"
"Ten dollars and the promise of an exclusive."
"What exclusive?"
"When you have one. I'll trust you." Again the shrewd eyes looked at Tyrer who tried not to wince.
"This afternoon, Gabriel? Without fail?"
"Yes, for one hour, so you can't copy it--it's my exclusive. It cost me almost every favor I have in Fleet Street to aquir--"
"To steal. Two dollars?"
"Eight, but your hour's after Norbert's."
"My last offer, eight--and I read it first?"
"Plus the exclusive? Good. You're a gentleman and a scholar, Jamie. I'll be in your office at three."
Through his open window Tyrer heard the ship's bell at the Harbor Master's office sound eight bells. His feet were propped on his desk, and he was dozing, his afternoon calligraphy exercises forgotten. No need to look at the mantelpiece clock. His brain told him it was 4:00 P.m. Now aboard ships would be the first afternoon dogwatch, a two-hour period lasting from 4:00 P.m. to 6:00 P.m., then the second from 6:00 P.m. to 8:00 P.m., thence to the normal four-hour periods until tomorrow at 4:00 P.m. Marlowe had explained that dogwatches had been invented to allow crews to be rotated.
He yawned and opened his eyes, thinking, Not much more than half a year ago, I'd never even heard of a dogwatch or been on a warship and now I'm telling time by ship's bells as easy as with a timepiece.
His mantelpiece clock chimed four.
Exactly correct. In half an hour I'm to see Sir William. The Swiss can certainly make chronometers, better than us.
Where the devil's Nakama? Has he run off?
He should have been back hours ago. What the devil does Sir William want? Hope to God he hasn't heard about my secret.
Hope he just wants more dispatches copied.
Blast it that my writing's the best in the Legation, I'm supposed to be a translator not a clerk! Damn damn damn!
He got up wearily, tidied his work and began to wash his hands in the basin, getting the ink off his fingers. A knock. "Come in."
Behind Hiraga was a Redcoat sergeant and a soldier, both with bayoneted rifles and both angry. Hiraga was bruised, dishevelled, grey with rage and almost naked, hat gone, turban gone, his villager kimono in shreds.
The Sergeant shoved him forward, bayonet ready, and saluted. "We caught 'im climbing in over the fence, sir. We 'ad the devil of a time getting 'im nice and quiet. 'e's got a pass, signed by you. Is it real?"
"Yes, yes it is." Aghast, Tyrer came forward. "He's a guest here, Sergeant, a guest of Sir William, and me, he's a Japanese teacher."
"A teacher, eh?" the Sergeant said grimly.
"Well, tell the bugger teachers don't climb fences, don't try to run off, don't 'ave samurai 'aircuts, don't frighten people or fight like a bag full of tomcats--I've one man wiv 'is arm broke and another wiv a busted nose. Next time we catch 'im at it, we won't be so careful." Both soldiers stomped off.
Tyrer closed the door, rushed to the sideboard and brought some water back. "Here."
Hiraga shook his head, choked with rage.
"Please. Would you like sak`e or beer?"
"Iy`e."
"Please... well, sit down and tell me what happened."
Hiraga began pouring out an explanation in Japanese.
"Gomen nasai, Ing'erish dozo."
Sorry, English please.
With an effort, Hiraga changed to English and with long seething pauses between words he said, "Many guard at Gate and Bridge. I go through swamp, go through water, over fence. These so'dier see me. I stop, bow, reach for pass, they throw to ground. Fight, but too many." Then he followed with another searing flood of Japanese venom and promises of revenge.
When the paroxysm was spent, Tyrer said, "Sorry but it's your own fault..." He darted back involuntarily as Hiraga whirled on him. "Stop it!" he said angrily. "The soldier was right. Samurai frighten people! Sir William told you to be careful, so did I, we asked you to be careful."
"I was being polite, only doing what was correct!" Hiraga said in angry Japanese. "Those ill-mannered apes fell on me, I was reaching for the pass, it was difficult to find. Apes, I'll kill them all!"
Tyrer's heart was pounding and the sweet sick of fear was in his mouth. "Listen, we must solve this together, quickly. When Sir William hears about this he may throw you out of the Settlement! You and I must solve this, understand?"
"Iy`e! What is "so'rve" please?"