Sir William sat back at his desk. He sighed and picked up a pen and wrote on his headed paper: Dear Admiral Ketterer, Much of what you said last night was correct. Please excuse my ill-advised use of some words in the heat of the moment. Perhaps you would be kind enough to stop by this afternoon.

You will have heard of young Struan's sad death that, according to Dr. Babcott is "directly attributable to wounds caused by the unprovoked Tokaido attack." I will have to make another, most serious complaint to the Bakufu about the demise of this fine English gentleman and would be very pleased to have your advice how this should be couched.

Most sincerely, my dear Sir, I remain your obedient servant.

"What I do for England," he muttered, then shouted, "Phillip!" signed the paper and powdered it to dry the ink.

"Yessir?"

"Make a copy, then send it to Ketterer by messenger."

"Jamie's just arrived, sir, and there's a deputation asking that you make this "Angel Day," a day of mourning."

"Refused! Send Jamie in."

Jamie was very bruised, his shoulder strapped up now.

"Jamie, you're feeling better? Good.

George Babcott gave me a report."

He told him what had been said about Malcolm's body. "What do you think?"

"We should send him home to Hong Kong, sir."

"Good, my thought too. You'll accompany the ... him?"

"No sir. Mrs. Struan... afraid she doesn't approve of me anymore, and if I went back it would only worsen a really rotten situation for her, poor lady. Between us, I'm dismissed at the end of this month."

"Good God, why?" Sir William was shocked.

"Doesn't matter, not now. Angelique, our Mrs. Struan, will of course go, and Dr.Hoag--did you know she changed her mind and decided to stay in her old apartments with us, and not at the French Legation after all?"

"No, oh well, I suppose that's best. How is she?"

"Hoag says, As well as can be expected, whatever the hell that means. We'll send Prancing Cloud soon as you and he give me the word. When's that likely?"

"George said he'd do the autopsy today and sign the death certificate, I'll have that tomorrow.

The clipper could leave tomorrow, only problem would be Angelique, when she's fit to travel." Sir William looked at him keenly. "What about her?"

"Don't know, not really. I haven't seen her since... since being aboard. She didn't speak to me, not once, not lucidly. Hoag's still with her," Jamie tried to hold back his grief.

"We can only hope."

"Rotten luck. Yes, no doubt about it.

Now, Norbert. We'll have to have an inquest of course."

"Good." Jamie touched his face, brushing away a nagging fly that sought the dried blood.

"Gornt saved my life."

"Yes. He'll be commended. Jamie, when you leave Struan's what will you do? Go home?"

"This's home, here or China," Jamie said simply. "I'll, somehow I'll start my own firm."

"Good, I wouldn't like to lose you. Bless my soul, I can't imagine the Noble House here without you."

"Nor can I."

As the day wore on, the pall over Yokohama thickened. Shock, disbelief, anger, war fears, general fears--the Tokaido remembered--mixed with many whispered snide remarks, but careful who you said them to because the Angel had violent champions and any raunchy remark or laugh implied disrespect.

Malcolm was not so fortunate. He had enemies, many were glad to sneer and happy another disaster had fallen on Dirk Struan's progeny. And both priests in their several ways were sternly satisfied, seeing retribution from God.

"Andr`e," Seratard said at the lunch table in the Legation, Vervene a third man. "Did he make a will?"

"I don't know."

"See if you can find out. Ask her, or Jamie--he would probably know more."

Andr`e Poncin nodded bleakly, worried sick. Struan's death had disrupted his plan to get more money from her quickly to pay Raiko.

"Yes, I'll try."

"Very important we should continue to stress her French citizenship to protect her when her mother-in-law tries to break the marriage."

Vervene said, "What makes you so sure that will happen, that she'll be so antagonistic?"

"Mon Dieu, it's obvious!" Andr`e answered for Seratard, irritably. "Her attitude will be that Angelique "murdered" her son. We all know she hated her before, how much more so now? She's bound to accuse her of God knows what deviations because of her twisted Anglo-Saxon sexual dogma, in private if not in public. And don't forget she's a fanatic Protestant." He turned to Seratard, "Henri, perhaps I'd better see Angelique." He had already intercepted her and whispered that she should go back to Struan's and not stay here at the Legation: "For God's sake, Angelique, your place is with your husband's people!" It was so obvious that she must strengthen her position with Struan's--at any cost--that he had almost shouted at her, but his sudden anger turned to pity seeing the depth of her despair. "I'd better go."

"Yes, please do."

Andr`e closed the door. "What the devil's the matter with him?" Vervene said with a sniff.

Seratard thought before answering, decided it was time. "It's probably his illness--the English disease."

His deputy dropped his fork in shock.

"Syphilis?"

"Andr`e told me a few weeks ago. You should know, only you amongst the staff, as these explosions may become more frequent. He's too valuable to send home." Andr`e had whispered he had made a brand-new, high-up intelligence connection: "The man says Lord Yoshi will be back in Yedo in two weeks. For a fairly modest sum, he and his Bakufu connections guarantee a private meeting aboard our flagship."

"How much?"' "That meeting would be worth whatever it costs."

"I agree, but how much?"' Seratard asked.

"The equivalent of four months of my salary," Andr`e had said bitterly, "a pittance. Speaking of that, Henri, I need an advance, or the bonus you promised months ago."

"Nothing was agreed, dear Andr`e. In due course you will have it, but sorry again, no advance.

Very well, that amount, after the meeting."

"Half now and half after. He also told me, for no money, Tairo Anjo is sick and may not last the year."

"Has he proof?"' "Come on, Henri, you know that's not possible!"

"Get your contact to make this tairo ape see Babcott for an examination and... and I'll give you a fifty percent raise."

"Double salary from today, double salary, and I'll need to give my contact a hefty down payment."

"Fifty percent from the day of the examination and thirty Mex in gold, five down and the rest after.

And that's all."

Seratard had seen Andr`e's hope escalate. Poor Andr`e, he's losing his touch. Of course I understand a large part of the money will stick to his fingers, but never mind, dealing with spies is dirty business, and Andr`e is particularly dirty though very clever. And unfortunate.

He reached over and took the last slice of the one Brie cheese that had arrived, on ice, at fantastic cost, with the last mail ship. "Be patient with the poor fellow, Vervene, eh?" Every day he was expecting to see signs of the disease but nothing and every day Andr`e seemed a little younger, losing his previous harassed expression. Only his temper had deteriorated.

Mon Dieu! A private Yoshi meeting! And if Babcott could examine this cretin Anjo, perhaps even cure him, at my instigation--never mind that Babcott's English, I'll barter this coup with Sir William for some other advantage--we will have made a tremendous step forward.

He raised his glass. "Vervene, mon brave, the pox on the English and Vive la France!"

Angelique was lying listlessly in the four-poster bed, propped against piled-up pillows, never more wan or more ethereal.

Hoag was in a chair by the bed, dozing, on and off.

The late afternoon sun broke through the clouds for a moment to brighten a dull, windy day. In the roads ships tugged at their moorings. Half an hour ago--to her a minute or hour the same--the signal gun had announced the imminent arrival of the mail ship, waking her, not that she had really been asleep, wafting instead from consciousness to unconsciousness, no border between. Her eyes drifted past Hoag. Beyond him she saw the door to Malcolm's rooms--not his rooms, nor their rooms, just rooms now for another man, another tai-pan...