Sheeling's expression did not change, he liked him and admired him and was sorry for the burden he now carried. "Yes you are, and you're right, it's time I stopped "Mr. Malcolm." But, begging your pardon, your father said exactly the same to me after he became tai-pan, a few days after the typhoon killed the... killed the tai-pan, Mr. Dirk. As you know he was very special to me, and I asked my captain, Captain Orlov, if I could talk to Mr. Culum and he said it was all right. So I said to your father that I'd always called Mr. Dirk tai-pan and as a special favor, could I just call him sir, or Mr. Struan. He said I could. It was a special favor. Could th--"

"I'm told Captain Orlov called my father "tai-pan," and my grandfather was just as special to him, perhaps more so."

"That's true," the captain said, standing straight. "When Captain Orlov disappeared, your father put me in charge of the fleet. I've served your father with all my heart, as I will you, and your son if I live that long. As a special favor, please, could it be the same as with your father?"

Sheeling was more than valuable to the Noble House.

All three men knew it. And his inflexibility.

Malcolm nodded, hurt even so. "Have a safe voyage, Captain."

"Thank you, sir. And... and good luck, Mr. Struan, in everything. And you, Jamie."

As he strode for the door Malcolm broke the first seal on the pouch, but before the Captain touched the handle, the door opened. Angelique stood there.

Bonnet, navy blue dress, gloves, and parasol. All three men caught their breath at her radiance.

"Oh sorry, cheri, I didn't know you were busy..."

"That's all right, come in." Malcolm had clambered to his feet. "May I present Captain Sheeling, of Dancing Cloud."

"La, Monsieur, what a gorgeous ship, how lucky you are."

"Yes, yes I am, Miss. Thank you,"

Sheeling said, smiling back. By God, he thought, never having seen her before, who could blame Malcolm? "'morning, Miss." He saluted and left, not wishing to leave now, not for a little while.

"So sorry to interrupt, Malcolm, but you said to collect you for lunch, it's to be with Sir William--and you haven't forgotten I have a piano lesson this afternoon with Andr`e and I've arranged for us to have our daguerreotype taken at five. Hello Jamie!"

"Our picture?"

"Yes, you remember the funny Italian who arrived on the last mail ship from Hong Kong for a season, he makes them, he guarantees we will look very handsome!"

Most of Malcolm's concern had left him and he felt all of her presence, doting on her, even though he had seen her an hour ago--coffee in his suite at eleven, a habit she had instituted and he enjoyed immensely. Over the last two or three weeks her loving disposition seemed to him to have blossomed even more though she spent much of her time riding, or at archery, or piano lessons, or planning soirees, and at her journal and letter writing--a way of life for all of them. But every moment she was with him she was as attentive and tender as any woman could be. His love and his need for her grew daily, overwhelming him with its power.

"Lunch is at one, darling, it's just after twelve," he said, and as much as he didn't want her to leave added, "Will you give us a few minutes?"

"Of course." With her grace, she seemed to dance over to him and kissed him and went to her suite next door. Her perfume lingered as a delicious memory.

His fingers trembled, breaking the last seal.

Inside were three letters. Two from his mother, one for him, one for Jamie. The third letter was from Gordon Chen, their compradore and his uncle.

"Here," he said, handing Jamie his letter, his heart beating furiously, wishing that Sheeling had not arrived. His two letters were burning his fingers.

"I'll leave you to it," Jamie said.

"No. Bad news need company." Malcolm looked up. "Open yours." Jamie obeyed and read rapidly. His face became red.

"Is it private, Jamie?"

"It says: "Dear Jamie"--that's the first time she's used the old way of writing me for a long time--"you may show this to my son, if you wish. I'm sending Albert MacStruan as soon as I can arrange it from our Shanghai office. You are to make him your deputy and teach him all you can about our entire Japanese operation, so that, unless two things happen, he can adequately take over from you when you leave Struan's. The first is that my son is in Hong Kong by Christmas. The second is that you accompany him."" Jamie stared at him helplessly. "That's it. Just a signature."

"That's not it," Malcolm said, his own face hot. "As soon as Albert arrives he can bloody go back."

"No harm in him staying a few days and letting him look over the place. He's a good fellow."

"Mother's... I never thought she could be so cruel: if I don't obey and kowtow, you get fired. Eh?" Malcolm's eyes strayed to his bureau. For the last few weeks he had made the immense effort to restrict his intake to once a day. Some days he had failed. "Laudanum in moderation, Malcolm," Dr. Babcott had said, "is a panacea for pain." He had insisted that Malcolm show him the medicine, not to take it away, just to check its contents. "This is fairly strong. Remember, it's not a cure and with some people it is addictive."

"Not with me. I need it for the pain. You stop the pain and I'll stop the medicine."

"Sorry, my friend, wish I could. Your internal organs were badly damaged, not too badly, thank God, but even so will take time to heal."

Too much time, Malcolm was thinking, is it worse than Babcott will admit? He looked at two letters reluctant to open them. Filthy of her to use Jamie as another cudgel.

"Rotten."

"She has certain rights," Jamie said.

"She's not tai-pan, I am. Father's will was clear." Malcolm's voice was dull, his thoughts untidy. "Guess old Uncle Sheeley was right, you have to earn that title, don't you?"

"You're tai-pan." It was said kindly though Jamie knew it was not true. "Strange he should bring up Orlov, haven't thought about him in years. Wonder what happened to him."

"Yes," Malcolm said absently. "Poor fellow was a marked man after he blew Wu Sung Choi's Number One Son out of the water. Orlov was stupid to go ashore alone in Macao. He must have been snatched by the White Lotus pirates. Macao's a deadly place, easy to go into China, and everywhere the White Lotus has spies. I'd hate to be on their marked list..." His voice trailed away.

He looked down at the letters, lost in thought.

Jamie waited. Then he said, "Give me a shout if I can help. I'll be going through the rest of the mail." He left.

Malcolm did not hear the door close. There was the "I love you" postscript to his mother's letter, so no secret message: My dearest but prodigal son, I had planned to arrive with Dancing Cloud but decided against it at the last minute as Duncan was poorly and has the croup again. Perhaps what I have to say is better in writing then there can be no mistake.

I've received your ill advised letters about what you will and will not do, about your "engagement,"

Jamie McFay, Miss Richaud etc.--and about the five thousand rifles. I immediately wrote and cancelled the extravagant order.

The time has come for open decisions. Since you are not here and will not do as I ask, I will make them. For your private knowledge it is my right to do so.

When your father was dying, poor man, there was no time to wait for your return so, almost with his last breath, he made me de facto tai-pan according to all the provisions in Dirk's Will and Legacy--some of them terrible--all of which have to be accepted, before God, sight unseen and must be kept secret from tai-pan to tai-pan. At the time it was our expectation that I would pass the mantle to you on your immediate return. One of Dirk's Laws lays down: It is the duty of the tai-pan to swear absolute belief in the integrity of his successor. I cannot do this for you at the moment. All this, and the following, is again for your private knowledge--it would hurt Struan's for it to be made public, so destroy the letter after reading it.