Dr. Hoag felt he had achieved greatness, blessing his teachers, mostly grateful patients, who had taught him the really important words and how to deal with certain persons and situations in the Middle Kingdom. The day was pleasant and warm and the look of the small town pleased him, the temples he could see over the rooftops, fishermen trawling the inland waters, peasants everywhere in the paddy, people coming and going and the inevitable stream of travellers on the Tokaido beyond.

By the time they reached the Legation with Lim's overtly attentive support, Hoag had a fairly good picture of what the situation was in Kanagawa, today's number of Babcott's patients, and what to expect.

George Babcott was in his surgery, assisted in the operation by a Japanese acolyte, a trainee appointed by the Bakufu to learn Western medicine, the anteroom outside crowded with villagers, men and women and children. The operation was messy, a foot amputation: "Poor fellow's a fisherman, got his leg trapped between the boat and the wharf, should never have happened, too much sak`e I'm afraid. When I'm through we can discuss Malcolm. Did you see him?"

"Yes, no hurry. It's good to see you, George, can I help in any way?"

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that. I'm all right here but if you could sift through the mob outside?

Those who are urgent, those who can wait. Treat any you want. There's another "surgery" next door though it's little more than a sickroom.

Mura, give me the saw," he said in studied English to his assistant and accepted the tool and began to use it. "Whenever I have a surgery here it gets hectic. In the cabinet there are the usual placebos, iodine, etc., usual medicines, painkillers, bitter cough mixtures for the sweet old ladies and sweet ones for the angry."

Hoag left him and looked over the waiting men women and children, astonished with their orderliness, patience, the bows and lack of noise. Quickly he established none had smallpox, leprosy, measles, typhoid or cholera or any of the other infectious diseases or plagues that were endemic in most of Asia. More than a little relieved he began to question them individually and met with grave suspicion. Fortunately, one was an elderly itinerant Cantonese letter writer and soothsayer, Cheng-sin, who could also speak some Japanese. With his help--after being introduced as the Giant Healer's Teacher--and a promise of an especially good, new modern medicine to ease his hacking cough, Dr. Hoag began a second surgery.

Some had minor ailments. A few were serious.

Fevers, illnesses, dysentery and the like, some he could diagnose, some he could not. Broken limbs, sword and knife cuts, ulcers. One, a young woman, in great pain, heavily pregnant.

His practiced eye told him the birth, her fourth, would be bad and that most of her trouble was caused by marrying too young, working the fields too long and carrying too much. He gave her a small bottle of opium extract. "Tell her when her time is come and the pain is bad to drink a spoonful."

"Spoonful? How big, Honorable Wise Enlightened?"

"A normal-size spoon, Cheng-sin."

The woman bowed. "Domo arigato gozaimashita," she muttered as she left, pathetic in her thanks, both hands trying to carry the weight of her belly.

Children with fevers and colds and hookworm, sores but not nearly as bad as he had expected, no mal-aria. Teeth generally good and strong, eyes clear, no lice--all patients astonishingly clean and healthy compared with similar villagers in China. No opium addicts. After an hour he was happily in his stride. He had just finished setting a broken arm when the door opened and a well-dressed, attractive young girl came in hesitantly and bowed. Her kimono was blue patterned silk, the obi green, hair dressed with combs. Blue sunshade.

Hoag noticed Cheng-sin's eyes narrow.

She answered his questions and spoke even more persuasively though clearly quite nervous, her voice soft.

"Medicine Doctor Wise Enlightened,"

Cheng-sin said, his speech punctuated with the permanent, dry cough that Hoag had diagnosed instantly as terminal consumption. "This Lady say her brother need important help, near death. She beg you to accompany her--house is nearby."

"Tell her to have him brought here."

"Unfortunately afraid to move him."

"What's the matter with him?"

After more questions and answers, which to Hoag sounded more like bargaining than anything else, Cheng-sin said, "Her house only one or two street outside.

Her brother is..." he coughed as he searched for the word, "sleep like dead man, but alive with mad talk and fever." His voice became more honeyed.

"She afraid move him, Honorable Medicine Doctor Wise Enlightened. Her brother samurai, she say many important persons very happy if you help brother. I think she say truth."

From Hong Kong newspapers Hoag was acquainted with the importance of samurai as the absolute ruling class in Japan, and that anything that would gain their confidence, and thus their cooperation, would assist British influence. He studied her. At once she dropped her eyes.

Her nervousness increased. She appeared to be fifteen or sixteen and her features quite unlike the villagers, lovely skin. If her brother's samurai so is she, he thought, intrigued.

"What's her name?"

"Uki Ichikawa. Please to hurry."

"Her brother's an important samurai?"

"Yes," Cheng-sin said. "I accompany you, not be fear."

Hoag snorted. "Afraid? Me? The pox on fear! Wait here." He went to the surgery, opened the door quietly. Babcott was heavily involved extracting an abscessed tooth, his knee on the youth's chest, the distraught mother wringing her hands and chattering. He decided not to disturb him.

At the gates the Sergeant of the Guard politely stopped them and asked where he was going.

"I'll send a couple of my lads with you.

Better safe than sorry."

The girl tried to dissuade them from bringing soldiers but the Sergeant was adamant. At length she agreed and, more nervously, led the way down one street, into an alley, into another and then another. The villagers they passed averted their eyes and scuttled away. Hoag carried his doctor's bag. Over the rooftops he could still see the temple, and was reassured, and glad for the soldiers, knowing it would have been foolhardy to go without them. Cheng-sin plodded along, a tall staff in his hand.

This young lady's not all she pretends to be, Hoag thought, not a little excited by the adventure.

Into another alley. Then she stopped at a door set in a tall fence and knocked. A grill opened, then the door. When the burly servant saw the soldiers he started to close it but the girl imperiously ordered him to desist.

The garden was small, well kept but not extravagant. At the steps to the veranda of a small shoji house, she slipped out of clog shoes and asked them to do the same. It was awkward for Hoag as he wore high boots. At once she ordered the servant to help him and was obeyed instantly.

"You two best guard here," Hoag said to the soldiers, embarrassed by the holes in his socks.

"Yes sir." One of the soldiers checked his rifle. "I'll just look around the back. Any trouble just shout."

The girl slid back the shoji. Ori Ryoma, the shishi of the Tokaido attack, lay on the futons, the sheet soaking, a maidservant fanning him. Her eyes widened seeing Hoag and not Honorable Medicine Giant Healer as she had expected and she backed away as he came in ponderously.

Ori was unconscious, in a coma--his swords on a low rack nearby, a flower arrangement in the takoma. Hoag squatted on his haunches beside him. The youth's forehead was very hot, face flushed, dangerously high fever.

The cause was quickly apparent as Hoag pulled away the bandage on his shoulder and upper arm.

"Christ," he muttered, seeing the extent of the puffy, poisonous inflammation, the telltale smell and black of dead tissue--gangrene-- around the bullet wound.