"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?"

Tyrer was thankful to hear the "please" and held on to his fright. This fellow's clearly as dangerous and as violent and hotheaded as any samurai in Japan. Thank God he's not armed. ""Solve" means to arrive at an understanding. We must solve this problem, we must, you and I, how to have you live here safely. You understand?"

"Hai. So desu ka! Wakarimasu.

Taira-san me we so'rve prob'rem."

Hiraga curbed his rage. "P'rease, what sugg'st? Pass no good for so'dier. Men who see me, hate. How so'rve this matter?"

"First... first there's a good old English custom. Whenever we have to solve a serious problem. We have tea."

Hiraga stared at him blankly. Tyrer rang a bell and ordered tea from Chen, the Number One Boy who eyed Hiraga suspiciously, an ugly chopper concealed behind his back.

While they waited Tyrer sat back in his chair and solemnly stared out of the window, desperately wanting the other man to tell him about Fujiko but too well mannered to ask directly such a leading question. Damn the fellow, he was thinking, he should volunteer the info knowing I must be anxious as hell and not make me bloody wait. Got to teach him English ways, got to teach him not to fly off the handle, the soldiers were quite right. Got to make an English gentleman out of him. But how? Then there's bloody Jamie who's too damned clever.

After lunch he had gone with McFay to his office, was pressed to have a small brandy and then, within minutes, he found that he had told him everything.

"Och, Phillip, you're brilliant,"

McFay had told him with genuine enthusiasm.

"That laddie will be a veritable gold mine if asked the right questions. Did he say where he was from?"' "Choshu, I think that's what he said."

"I'd like to talk to him--privately."

"If he talks to you then others are bound to find out and then the news will be... will be out everywhere."

"If I know, Norbert knows, and I'll bet the Bakufu knows--they're no fools.

Sorry, but there are no secrets here, how many times must I remind you?"' "All right, I'll ask him. But only if I'm present when you see him."

"Now that's not really necessary, Phillip, you've got so much to do. I would'na want to waste your time."

"Yes or no!"

McFay sighed. "You're a hard man, Phillip. All right."

"And if I also get to read the last chapter, without charge, say tomorrow. You arrange it with Nettlesmith."

Sharply, McFay said, "If I have to pay the astounding sum of eight dollars, you have to contribute as well."

"Then no interview, and I'll inform Sir William." He smiled to himself remembering the sour look on McFay's face and then, "Cha, Mass'er plenty quick quick," interrupted his thoughts bringing him back to Nakama. Chen put down the tray, no longer carrying the chopper, but it was close at hand, outside the door.

Gravely Tyrer poured for both of them, added milk and sugar and sipped the scalding, iron black brew with relish. "That's better."

Hiraga imitated him. It took all of his willpower not to cry out from the heat, and to hold in what was the foulest-tasting liquid he had ever had in his life.

"Good, eh?" Tyrer said with a beam, finishing his cup. "Some more?"

"No, no thank you. Ing'erish custom, yes?"

"English and American, yes, not French. The French," Tyrer shrugged. "They've no taste."

"Ah, so ka?" Hiraga had noticed the slight sneer. "French not same as Ing'erish?" he asked with a pretended innocence, his fury compartmentalized for later.

"My goodness me, no, not like them at all.

They're on the Continent, we're an island nation like you. Different customs, different foods, government, everything, and of course France's a minor power compared to Britain." Tyrer stirred in another spoon of sugar, pleased with himself that the man's rage seemed to have dissipated. "Very different."