"Why not?"' Tyrer wore his hair, naturally wavy, almost to his shoulders. Unlike most he was fastidious about its cleanliness: a pettipoint had hung over his bed forever, stitched by his mother, Cleanliness is next to Godliness. "How are your bruises?"' "I forgotten them."
"I have forgotten them."
"Ah, thank you, I have forgotten them. Some good newses, Taira-san." Elaborately, Hiraga had told him about going to the Yoshiwara and arranging Fujiko for tonight. "She yours, o'rr night. Good, neh?"' For a moment Tyrer had been speechless.
Impulsively he wrung Hiraga's hand.
"Thank you. My dear friend, thank you." He had sat back and pulled out his pipe and offered tobacco to Hiraga who refused, hard put not to laugh. "That's marvelous," Tyrer's mind had jumped him ahead to their tryst, his heart throbbing and manhood conscious. "My God, marvelous!"
With an effort he had put all those immediate, erotic thoughts aside to concentrate on the day's schedule. "Have you arranged somewhere to stay in the village?"' "Yes. P'rease we go now, yes?"' During their walk to the Japanese quarter, always careful to keep their voices down and not speak English near any passerby, Tyrer had continued to probe Hiraga, mining diamonds, amongst them the names of the Shogun and Emperor. At the dwelling of the shoya, he had inspected the shop and tiny drab room off it where Hiraga was supposed to be staying. Then he had brought him back to the Legation, completely pleased and reassured. "Did you notice on the street how you were hardly noticed, even by the soldiers, now that you don't look like a samurai?"' "Yes. Taira-san. You can he'rp me, p'rease?"' "Anything, what?"' "I 'rike try to wear your clothes, become more 'rike gai-jin, yes?"' "Great idea!"
When they got back to the Legation, Tyrer hurried to see Sir William, excitedly had given him the names of the Shogun and Emperor.
"I thought you would want to know at once, sir.
Also another piece of info: I think I've understood correctly but he says all Japanese, even daimyos have to get permission to visit Kyoto, where the Emperor lives."
"What are daimyos?"' "That's what they call their kings, sir. But everyone, even them, they must get permission to visit Kyoto--he says the Bakufu which is another name for the Shogunate, like their Civil Service, are afraid to allow free access there, to anyone." He had tried to keep calm but the words rushed out of him. "If that's true, and if the Shogun's there at present and the Emperor's there permanently and if all power's there--if you were to go there, sir, wouldn't that bypass the Bakufu?"' "An inspired leap of logic," Sir William said kindly with a sigh of pleasure, already there, long before Tyrer had explained.
"Phillip, I think I will redraft the dispatch. Come back in an hour--you've done very well."
"Thank you sir." Then he had told him about the "new" Nakama and new haircut.
"My thought is that if we could persuade him into European clothes he would become more and more malleable--of course as he teaches me Japanese while I'm teaching him English."
"Very good idea, Phillip."
"Thank you, sir, I'll arrange it instantly. I can have the bill sent to our shroff for payment?"' Some of Sir William's good humor vanished. "We have no excess funds, Phillip, and the Exchequer... Very well. But one outfit only. You're responsible the bill's modest."
Tyrer had left hastily and now that he had finished his work on the dispatch, he was going to take Hiraga to the Chinese tailor down the road.
High Street was not crowded at this time of the day, midafternoon, most men in their countinghouses, or at siesta, or at the Club. A few drunks huddled in the lee of the wharfs, the wind still gusting. Later a football match had been arranged, Navy versus Army on their parade ground, and Tyrer was looking forward to it, but not to the meeting with Jamie McFay he had had to agree to, after the tailor's. "He's head of Struan's here, Nakama-san, somehow he'd found out about you, and that you can speak some English.
He's to be trusted."
"So ka? Struan? The man who is to marry?"
"Oh, the servants told you about the engagement party? No, McFay's just their head merchant.
Mr. Struan, the tai-pan, is the one who's going to be married. That's his building, warehouse, offices and living quarters."
"So ka?" Hiraga studied it.
Difficult to attack or get into, he thought.
Barred lower windows. "This Struan, also his woman, they stay there?"
Tyrer's mind leapt to Fujiko and he said absently, "Struan does, I'm not sure about her. In London, this building would be nothing compared to ordinary houses, thousands upon thousands.
London's the richest city in the world."
"Richer than Yedo?"
Tyrer laughed. "Richer than twenty, fifty Yedos, how do I say that in Japanese?"
Hiraga told him, his sharp eyes taking in everything--disbelieving about London and most of what Tyrer was telling him as lies to confuse him.
Now they were passing the various bungalows that served as Legations, picking their way through the rubbish that was strewn everywhere. "Why different f'rags, p'rease?"
Tyrer wanted to practice speaking Japanese, but every time he started, Hiraga would answer in English and at once ask another question.
Even so he explained, pointing them out: "They're Legations: that's the Russian, the American, over there's the French--that one's Prussian.
Prussia's an important nation on the Continent. If I wanted to say th--"
"Ah, so sorry, you have map of your wor'rd, p'rease?"
"Oh yes, I'd be glad to show it to you."
A detachment of soldiers approached and marched past, paying them no attention. "These men of Prush'ah," Hiraga pronounced the word carefully, "they also war against French?"
"Sometimes. They're certainly warlike, always battling someone. They've just got a new King and his chief supporter is a big tough prince called Bismarck who's trying to collect all German speakers into one great nation and--"
"P'rease, so sorry, Taira-san, not so fast yes?"
"Ah gomen nasai." Tyrer repeated what he had said but more slowly, answering more questions, never failing to be astounded at their number and extent and range of his proteg`e's enquiring mind. He laughed again. "We must have an agreement, one hour about my world in English, one hour about yours in English, and then a one-hour conversation in Japanese. Hai?"
"Hai. Domo."
Four horsemen going out to the racetrack overtook them, greeted Tyrer and looked Hiraga over curiously. Tyrer greeted them back. At the far end of High Street by the barrier, lines of coolies with the afternoon's shipment of goods and foods began to clear through the Custom House under the watchful eye of the samurai guards. "We'd best hurry, don't want to get mixed up with that lot," he said and crossed the road, picking his way through the horse manure, then stopped abruptly and waved. They had been passing the French Legation. Angelique was standing at her ground floor window, the curtains pulled aside. She smiled and waved back. Hiraga pretended not to have noticed her scrutiny.
"That's the lady Mr. Struan's going to marry," Tyrer said, walking on again.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
"Hai. That her house, yes?"
"Yes."
"Good night, Mr. McFay. Everything's locked up."
"Thanks. 'night, Vargas." McFay stifled a yawn, continued writing his daily journal, the last job of the day. His desk was clear but for two weeks of newspapers still to be read, his In tray empty, Out tray spilling over with answers to most of today's mail, and orders, bills of lading already completed and signed, ready for collection at sunup when business began.
Vargas absently scratched at a flea bite, a way of life in Asia, and put the key to the strong room on the desk. "Shall I bring you more light?"
"No thanks, I'm almost finished. See you tomorrow."