He left the knapsack in the weeds, and secreted one short-fused bomb against a rickety godown, the other behind a hovel.

Rubbish covered the smoking fuses.

Hurrying back for the remaining bombs he had to slump into hiding near a pile of rubbish.

Approaching from the village a patrol of soldiers was making their nightly rounds. Their route went from the British Legation, along High Street, through the village, across No Man's Land, down through Drunk Town and back along the promenade again. Twice nightly. When they reached the alley, thirty yards from him, they stopped in the lee of the godown for a smoke and to relieve themselves.

Takeda cursed, pinned down.

More than three quarters of a candle had passed since lighting the first fuse.

"Good evening, Hinodeh," Andr`e said earlier when he had arrived at their garden sanctuary.

"Sorry I late."

"Good evening, Furansu-san. You are never late. Whatever you do is correct." Smiling at him. "Will you take sak`e?"

"Please." He sat opposite and watched her pour, his legs in the space under the table where a small brazier warmed the air, the heat kept in by the eiderdown that was spread over the table and wrapped around them. Her grace was ever more pleasing, hair like glistening jet held with decorative pins, a touch of rouge to her lips, her long sleeves held delicately away from the flask.

Tonight she wore a kimono he had never seen before, a glorious shade of green, his favorite color, with cranes, the symbol of long life, embroidered in silver thread all over, the edge of a sheer under-kimono peeping out enticingly. With a bow she handed him the cup and then, to his surprise, poured for herself from another flask that contained warm sak`e--his was cold as he preferred. It was rare for her to drink.

With a special smile, she lifted her cup.

"A ta sant`e, cheri, je t'aime."

She copied his accent as he had taught her.

"A ta sant`e, cherie, je t'aime," he said, an ache in his heart, not believing that she did, how could she?

They clinked cups and she drained hers, choked a little, at once poured for him again and for herself. The same smile and she offered her cup to touch his.

They drained them and again she poured.

"Mon Dieu, Hinodeh, you careful, yes?" he said with a laugh. "Not used to sak`e.

Careful, no become drunk!"

She laughed, sparkling white teeth, voluptuous lips. "Please, Furansu-san, tonight is special. Drink and be merry.

Please." She sipped this time, looking at him over the lip, her eyes alight and flashing in the dance of candle flames, eyes he always found fathomless, always keeping him off balance--part of her fascination.

"Why special, Hinodeh?"

"Today is Sei-ji-no-Hi, Coming of Age Day--for all persons who have reached twenty years --you have reached twenty, neh?" she said happily, then pointed to the big candle on the table. "This candle I dedicated to my village god Ujigami for you." Then she motioned to the door shoji. Just above it was a bouquet of pine and bamboo. "That is a Kadamatsu, symbolizing stability." A shy smile and she poured and drank again. "I hope you approve."

"Oh yes, thank you, Hinodeh," he said warmed.

A few weeks ago he had discovered it was her birthday and brought iced champagne with a golden bracelet. She wrinkled her nose against the bubbles and said it was wonderful, but drank it only when he insisted. He had finished most of the bottle and that night his lovemaking had been frenzied.

Over their time together he had noticed that the violence of his thrusts did not disturb her, she responded equally whatever he did and, at length, lay back with him as drained. But how much she really enjoyed their joining he could never fathom, nor could he savor her and leave it at that, leave her to her pretense if that's what it really was--and forget the enigma she had become.

One day he would penetrate that enigma. He was convinced. It only required patience, that was all. He would wear away the shell of the enigma and then their loving and his frantic, insatiable passion would be calmed and he could live in peace.

She was still everything to him. Nothing else mattered. This afternoon he had humbled himself with Angelique and cajoled and begged and pleaded and menaced until she had given him a brooch in lieu of money. Raiko had accepted it.

Angelique's stupid. Why is she wavering?

Of course she should accept Tess Struan's offer, buying her off, and quickly before it's withdrawn.

The offer's generous, overgenerous, more than I expected considering her untenable position: no will in her favor and anyway no estate to claim against! Five hundred guineas as a down payment in three weeks! Wonderful--a gift from God!

She can spare four hundred of that and I'll arrange moneylenders to advance another thousand against her trust, two thousand, whatever I need.

Skye's a fool. She'll settle after I've talked to her, and gratefully accept any advance when I suggest it. I'm saved!

Looking at Hinodeh, he beamed, so joyously.

"What?" She fanned herself against the rising alcoholic flush, the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

In French he said, "I'm home free, my love, soon you're paid for and all mine forever."

"So sorry I do not understand."

Reverting to Japanese he said, "Tonight I just happy, and say, you mine. You so pretty, you mine."

She bowed her head at his praise. "You are handsome too and I am glad when you are happy with me."

"Always." But this was not true. Frequently he was angry and stormed away. Always the same problem, a chance remark, leading to asking, then taunting, pleading, demanding, begging, shouting: "We don't need darkness! We're lovers and we don't need the dark anymore, we're friends as well as lovers, I am committed to you forever.

Forever! I love you, you can never know how much I love you, you can't know, I keep asking and asking and asking but you just sit there..."

Always the same patient, abject response, head to the floor, her voice soft, with or without tears, and absolute: "Please excuse me but you agreed, so sorry but you agreed."

Again she drank and he saw the increasing blush in her cheeks, watched her pour again, her fingers unsure and a drop spilled. She caught her breath with a chuckle. "Oh so sorry." His cup filled again, and hers, quickly drained, her tipsiness making her even more alluring. "Oh, that's very good, very very good, neh, Furansu-san?"

Long fingers with perfect nails shaking the flask and finding it empty, at once gracefully to her feet, the overlong kimono trailing, making her seem to glide to the brazier where other flasks sat in simmering water, and, on a ledge outside the tiny window, where others cooled. Wind came into the room momentarily and, with it an unexpected odor. Gunpowder smoke, faint but unmistakable. "What's that?" he said in French.

She looked at him startled. "Please?"

Now that the window was back in place the odor had vanished. "Nothing, I thought..." Tonight everything about her enticed him. "Nothing, please sit. Here."

Obediently she sat beside him, bumping him, chuckling. Unsteadily she poured again. Amused, he drank with her, the sak`e warming but not as she was warmed. Under the blanket her leg touched his.

His hand went to her, the other around her waist and they kissed, her lips whisper soft and moist, her tongue sensuous. His hand went higher, she broke from the embrace, laughing. "Wait, wait, not here, tonight..."

Like an excited schoolgirl she pushed away, lifted herself and went for the bedroom and its single lamp, as always to blow it out and then, when she was ready in the darkness, to invite him in. But tonight she stopped at the doorway, steadied herself against it, then turned, eyes glowing. "Furansu-san."