Catholic, that sent everyone mad, like Struan's mother I'll wager. As if it matters, though Consuela's family was good where this girl's isn't. Yes, I still love her. After her, no one. Never wanted to marry, not after losing her, somehow couldn't. Still, that let me put everything into the Navy so life hasn't been a total sodding loss.

Has it?

"I'm going to have another port," he said. "That will take ten to fifteen minutes. What can you do to lead the way in ten or fifteen minutes, eh?"

Gornt hurried down the steps of Struan's into the night, following other guests leaving the party in animated conversation, bundled up and holding their hats against the wind. Servants were waiting with lamps to guide some of them home. After a polite but hasty good night, he went next door to Brock's. The guard, a tall turbanned Sikh, saluted, stared at him as he rushed up the stairs two at a time to knock on Norbert Greyforth's door.

"Who is it?"

"Me, suh, Edward. Sorry, it's important."

There was a sour grumble. Then the bolt jerked back. Norbert's hair was tousled. He wore a nightshirt, nightcap and bed socks. "What the hell is it?"

"Struan. He's just announced from here on he's committing the Noble House to embargo all guns and all opium in Japan and ordering the same in all Asia and the China trade."

"What's this, a joke?"

"No joke, Mr. Greyforth, suh. It was at the party--that's what he said in front of everyone a moment ago, Sir William, most of the Foreign Ambassadors, the Admiral, Dmitri--Struan's exact words, suh: "I want to make a formal statement. Following my Guardian letter today, I've decided no guns or opium will be carried by our ships or traded by Struan's from now on, here or in China."

Norbert began to laugh, "Come in, this calls for a celebration. He's put Struan's out of business. And made us Noble House." He stuck his head into the corridor and shouted for his Number One Boy. "Lee! Champagne, chop chop! Come in, Edward and close the door, it's drafty and cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey." He turned up the oil lamp. His bedroom was large with a vast four-poster, the floor carpeted, oils on the walls of Brock clipper ships--their fleet smaller than Struan's but their steamer fleet almost twice as large. Some of the paintings were fire damaged and the ceiling, too, was not yet completely repaired. Books piled on the side tables and another opened on the bed.

"The poor bastard's really gone." Norbert chuckled. "First thing we do is to cancel the duel, got to keep him alive. Now this is wh--" His smile vanished. "Wait a minute, what am I talking about? It's all a storm in a pisspot, he's no more tai-pan of Struan's than I am. You're the fool, whatever he says means nothing and much as his Bible-thumping mother would like to do the same, she'd never agree, couldn't, it'd ruin them."

Gornt smiled. "I disagree."

Norbert glanced at him sharply. "Eh?"

"She'll agree."

"Oh? Why?"

"Secret."

"What sort of secret?" Norbert glanced at the door as it opened. Lee, an elderly Cantonese with a long, thick queue, wearing neat livery--white jacket, black trousers-- waddled in with glasses, champagne in an ice bucket, a neat towel over his arm. In moments two glasses were served. When the door had closed, Norbert raised his glass. "Health, and death to all Struans. What secret?"

"You told me to try to befriend him. I have. Now he confides in me. First--"

"He does?"

"Up to a point but it's better every day. First, about tonight. The reason he wrote the letter and made the announcement was to curry favor with the Admiral, secretly."

"Eh?"

"May I?" Gornt motioned at the champagne.

"Of course. Sit down and explain yourself."

"He needs the Admiral's approval to get aboard Pearl tomorrow, that's the re--"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I happened to overhear them, talking privately--they went outside after dinner. I was looking at some of his paintings nearby--I'd noticed a couple of Aristotle Quances--and, well their voices carried." Gornt related, almost word for word, their conversation. "Ketterer ended by saying, "Let's see what you can do in ten or fifteen minutes."

"That was all? Nothing about what's aboard or what's so important about Pearl?"

"No suh."

"Weird, that's weird. What could it be?"

"I don't know. The whole evening was strange.

All during dinner I'd catch Struan glancing at the Admiral from time to time, but never once did he catch his eye. It was as though the Admiral deliberately avoided him without being too obvious. That's what prompted my curiosity, suh."

"Where was he sitting--the Admiral?"

"Next to Angelique, place of honor on her right, Sir William the other side, should have been the other way around--another curiosity. I was next to Marlowe, he was star-gazing at Angelique and talking boring naval talk, nothing about any trip tomorrow though I got the impression from what Struan had said, it had been planned for some time, pending the Admiral's okay. After the Admiral left I brought the conversation with Marlowe back to tomorrow but he just said, "Might be doing some trials, old boy, if the Old Man approves, why?"' I told him I enjoyed ships and asked if I could come along, he laughed and said he'd certainly arrange a future trip, then he left too."

"Nothing about Struan and the girl?"

"No suh. He's all eyes for her though."

"It's her tits." Norbert grunted. "When Struan made the announcement what happened?"

"First there was a silence, then pandemonium, questions, some laughter, a few catcalls, Marlowe and the other naval officers cheered, and a lot of anger. McFay went white, Dmitri almost spat, Sir William stared at Struan, shaking his head as though the poor fellow was an object of pity. I'd concentrated on Ketterer. He made no sign one way or another, said nothing to Struan other than, "Interesting," got up at once, thanked him for dinner and left. Struan tried to stop him, started to ask him about tomorrow but the Admiral either didn't hear him or pretended not to, and stalked out, leaving Struan shaking. At the same time, suh, everyone talking and no one listening, like in a Chinese market, not a few furious and shouting at Struan that he was insane, and how in the hell could we carry on trade--you know, the obvious and the truth."

Norbert finished his glass.

Gornt began to pour for him but he shook his head, "Don't like bubbly too much at night, makes me fart. Pour me a Scotch--the bottle's over there." It was on a sideboard, oak, weatherbeaten, an old sea clock on it.

"What's aboard Pearl he'd want so much?"

"I don't know."

"What did Struan do after Ketterer left?"

"He just sat down and took a large drink, stared into space, absently said good night as people began to drift off, paying no attention to Angelique which again was unlike him. As to her, she just watched wide-eyed, not the center of attention for once, clearly not understanding what was going on so I guess not in Struan's confidence either. I thought I'd better give you the news so didn't stay."

"You said something about a secret? What's the secret, eh? Why that old bitch, Tess Struan will agree to commit business suicide?"

"Because of Sir Morgan's plan, suh."

"What?"

"Sir Morgan." Gornt smiled broadly. "Before we left Shanghai he told me, privately, he and Mr. Brock had planned and were in the middle of executing some scheme to ruin Struan's and finish them for good.

He told me it revolves around Hawaiian sugar, the Victoria Bank an--"

"Eh?" Norbert stared at him, remembering Sir Morgan had been specific that he had not given Gornt details of the coup, and did not want him to have them: "even though lad's t'be trusted. Yes, an' there be no harm in letting him mix in the poxy Struan circle to see what he can spy out." "Morgan told you the details? About the deal?"