"Better that we land in force--we've troops enough--and occupy the capital, remove their king, what's he called? ah yes, Shogun, and appoint our own native ruler and make Japan a protectorate. Even better, for them, make it part of the Empire." Pallidar was very tired and had been awake most of the night. His uniform was unbuttoned but he was groomed and had shaved. He motioned to one of the servants. "Tea please."

The neatly dressed young Chinese understood perfectly but he gaped at him, deliberately, for the amusement of the other servants. "Heya, Mass'er? Tea-ah? Wat for tea-ah you say, eh? Wancha cha, heya?"

"Oh never mind for Christ's sake!"

Wearily Pallidar got up and went to the sideboard with his cup and poured his own tea while all the servants guffawed hugely but silently at the insolent foreign devil's loss of face, and then continued listening attentively to what they were saying. "It's a matter of military might, old boy. And I'll tell you frankly, the General will be bloody upset about losing a grenadier to a poxy assassin dressed like Ali Baba. He'll want--and we'll all want-- revenge by God."

"I don't know about a landing--the Navy can certainly blast a path for you but we've no idea how many samurai there are, nor anything about their strength."

"For God's sake, whatever they are, or it is, we can deal with them, they're only a bunch of backward natives. Of course we can deal with them. Just like in China. Can't understand why we don't annex China and have done with it."

All the servants heard this and understood this and all swore that when the Heavenly Kingdom possessed the guns and the ships to equal the barbarian guns and ships, they would help shove barbarian noses in their own dung and teach them a lesson to last a thousand generations. All of them were handpicked by Illustrious Chen, Gordon Chen, the Noble House compradore. "You wan'ta one piecee plenty good 'ggs, Mass'er?" the most courageous one said and beamed toothily, holding more of the deliberately phlegmy eggs under Pallidar's nose. "Werry good."

Pallidar shoved the salver away in disgust.

"No thanks. Listen, Marlowe, I think..."

He stopped as the door opened and Tyrer came in. "Oh, hello, you must be Phillip Tyrer from the Legation." He introduced himself, then Marlowe, and went on breezily, "Very sorry about your bad luck yesterday but I'm proud to shake your hand. Both Mr. Struan and Miss Richaud told Babcott if it wasn't for you they'd both be dead."

"They did? Oh!" Tyrer could hardly believe his ears. "It, it all happened so fast.

One moment everything was normal the next we were running for our lives. I was frightened to death."

Now that he had said it aloud he felt better, and even better when they brushed it aside as modesty, held out a chair for him and ordered the servants to bring him food.

Marlowe said, "When I checked you in the night you were dead to the world, we knew Babcott had sedated you, so I expect you haven't yet heard about our assassin."

Tyrer's stomach reeled. "Assassin?"

They told him. And about Angelique.

"She's here?"

"Yes, and what a brave lady she is."

For a moment Marlowe was filled with the thought of her.

He had no favored girl at home or anywhere, just a few eligible cousins but no special lady, and for the first time he was happy about it. Perhaps Angelique will stay and then... and then we'll see.

His excitement picked up. Just before steaming out of his home port of Plymouth a year ago, his father, Captain Richard Marlowe R.n. had said, "You're twenty-seven, lad, you've your own ship now--albeit a stinkpot--you're the eldest and it's time you were married. When you get back from this Far East cruise you'll be over thirty, with any luck by then I'll be a Vice Admiral and I'll... well, I can allow you a few extra guineas, but for God's sake don't tell your mother--or your brothers and sisters. It's time you made up your mind! What about your cousin Delphi? Her father's service, though only Indian Army."

He had promised that on his return he would choose. Now perhaps he would not have to settle for second or third or fourth best. "Miss Angelique raised the alarm in the Settlement then insisted on coming here last night--Mr.Struan had asked her to see him urgently-- seems he's not too good, pretty bad wound in fact, so I brought her. She's quite a lady."

"Yes." A curious silence took them, each knowing the other's thoughts. Phillip Tyrer broke it. "Why should an assassin come here?"

The other two heard the nervousness. "More devilment, I suppose," Pallidar said.

"Nothing to worry about, we caught the bugger. Have you seen Mr. Struan this morning?"

"I peeked in but he was asleep, hope he's going to be all right. The op was not so good and..."

Tyrer stopped, hearing an altercation outside.

Pallidar went to the window followed by the others.

Sergeant Towery was shouting at a half-naked Japanese from the far side of the garden, beckoning him. "Hey you, come 'ere!"

The man, apparently a gardener, was well built and young and twenty yards away. He wore only a loincloth and was carrying a bundle of sticks and branches over one shoulder, some half wrapped in a dirty black cloth, while he awkwardly scavenged for others. For a moment he stood erect, then began bobbing up and down, bowing abjectly towards the Sergeant.

"My God, these buggers have no sense of shame," Pallidar said distastefully. "Even the Chinese don't dress like that--nor Indians.

You can see his privates."

"I'm told they dress like that even in winter, some of them," Marlowe said, "they don't seem to feel the cold."

Again Towery shouted and beckoned. The man kept on bowing, nodding vigorously, but instead of going towards him, seemingly he misinterpreted him and obediently turned away, still half-bowing, and scuttled away, heading for the corner of the building. As he passed their window he gazed at them for an instant, then once more bent double in a groveling obeisance and hurried towards the servants' quarters, almost hidden by foliage, and was gone.

"Curious," Marlowe said.

"What?"

"Oh just that all that bowing and scraping seemed put on." Marlowe turned and saw Tyrer's chalky face. "Christ Almighty, what's up?"

"I, I, that man, I think he, I'm not sure but I think he was one of them, one of the murderers at the Tokaido, the one Struan shot. Did you see his shoulder, wasn't it bandaged?"

Pallidar was the first to react. He jumped out of the window, closely followed by Marlowe who had grabbed his sword. Together they hurtled for the trees. But they did not find him though they searched everywhere.

Now it was high noon. Again the soft knock on her bedroom door, again "Mademoiselle?

Mademoiselle?" Babcott called out from the corridor, his voice soft, not wanting to awaken her unnecessarily but she did not reply. She remained standing rock still in the center of the room and stared at the bolted door, hardly breathing, her robe tight around her, her face stark. The trembling began again.

"Mademoiselle?"

She waited. After a moment his footsteps died away and she exhaled, desperately trying to stop shaking, then resumed pacing to the shuttered windows and back to the bed and back to the window once more, pacing as she had been pacing for hours.

I've got to decide, she thought in misery.

When she awoke a second time, not remembering the first awakening, her mind was clear and she lay in the crumpled bed linen without moving, glad to be awake, rested, hungry, and thirsty for the first, glorious cup of coffee of the day served with some crusty fresh French bread that her Legation's chef made in Yokohama. But I'm not in Yokohama, I'm in Kanagawa, and today it will be just a cup of revolting English tea with milk.