Even you would be astonished to know what ladies discuss in the privacy of their boudoirs, or when there are no men around. In Hong Kong I heard her sister opened the house here."

"It's not the same, Angelique, it caters for seamen, drunks, remittance men--the dregs.

Naughty Nellie isn't her sister, she just claims to be, probably just pays some squeeze for the use of the name."

"Oh! Then where do you go? "For entertainment"?"

"The Yoshiwara," he said and explained, astounded with this conversation and that he, too, could be so open.

"Do you have a special place, a special House? One where you're on good terms with the mama-san?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Go to your mama-san tonight and get whatever drink they use."

"What?"

"My God, Andr`e, be sensible, be serious!

This is serious and unless we can solve the problem I will never be chatelaine of the Noble House, so will never be able to assist... certain interests." She saw that this hit the mark and was further pleased with herself. "Go there tonight and ask her for it. Don't ask your girl or a girl for it, they probably won't know. Ask the patronne, the mama-san. You can say that "the girl" is overdue."

"I don't know if they have such a medicine."

She smiled benignly. "Don't be silly, Andr`e, of course they have, they must have." Her right hand began straightening the fingers of her left-hand glove. "Once this problem is out of the way, everything will be wonderful, we'll be married at Christmas. By the way I decided it would be better to move out of the Struan suite until we're married--now that Monsieur Struan is gaining strength every day. I'll be moving back to the Legation this afternoon."

"Is that wise? Better to stay close to him."

"Normally yes. Except there are proprieties, but more important, I'm sure the medicine will not make me feel pleasant for a day or two. As soon as that's over I'll decide if I should go back. I know I can rely on you, my friend." She stood up. "The same time tomorrow?"

"If I've nothing I'll send word to let you know."

"No. Better we meet here at noon. I know I can rely on you." She smiled her nicest smile.

He tingled, both because of the smile and because, whatever happened now, she was chained to him forever.

"Those characters," he said, "the ones written on the sheet, do you remember them?"

"Yes," she said, surprised by the non sequitur. "Why?"

"Could you draw them for me? I might recognize them, they might have a meaning."

"They were on the counterpane, not the sheet. In, in his blood." She took a deep breath and reached over and took the pen and dipped it in the ink.

"One thing I forgot to tell you. When I woke up, the little cross I'd worn since a child had vanished. I searched everywhere but it had gone."

"He stole it?"

"I presume so. But nothing else. There was some jewelry but that was not touched. The pieces were not too valuable but worth more than the cross."

The thought of her lying there in that bed, inert, the nightdress slit from neck to hem, the rapist's hand pulling away the chain, moonlight glinting on the cross, before or after, spreading her, rapidly became real and erotic and throbbed him. His eyes flowed over her and she bent over the desk, oblivious of his lust.

"There," she said and handed him the paper.

He stared at it, the sunlight glinting on the gold signet ring he always wore. The characters did not relate in any way to anything. "Sorry, they mean nothing, don't even look Chinese-- Chinese or Japanese the writing's the same."

At a sudden thought he inverted the paper and gasped. "Tokaido--that's what they mean!" The color went out of her face. "You just copied them upside down. Tokaido ties everything together!

He wanted you to know, wanted the whole Settlement to know and we would have, if you'd told anyone what had happened! But why?"

Shakily her fingers went to her temples.

"I, I don't know. Perhaps... I don't know. He, he must be dead by now, Monsieur Struan shot him, surely he must be dead."

Andr`e hesitated uneasily, weighing the reasons for and against. "Since we share so many secrets, and clearly you know how to keep one, sorry but now another is necessary." He told her about Hoag and the operation. "It wasn't Hoag's fault, he had no way of knowing. It's ironic, both doctors advised against telling you, to save you anguish."

"It's because of Babcott and his opiate I am where I am," she muttered, her voice chilling him. "The man's alive then?"

"We don't know. Hoag didn't give him much of a chance. Why would that devil want his evil known, Angelique?"

"Are there any other secrets about this horror that you know and I don't?"

"No. Why should he want everyone to know?

Bravado?"

For a long time she stood staring at what she had drawn. Motionless except for her breast that rose and fell with the regularity of her breathing. Then, without another word she walked out. The door closed quietly.

He shook his head in wonder, stared back at the paper.

Tyrer was in the small bungalow adjoining the British Legation that he shared with Babcott, practicing calligraphy with Nakama, the name by which he knew Hiraga. "Please give me the Japanese for: today, tomorrow, the day after, next week, next year, the days of the week and the months of the year."

"Yes, Taira-san." Carefully, Hiraga said a Japanese word, watched as Tyrer wrote it phonetically in roman letters.

Then Hiraga wrote the characters in the space provided and again watched while Tyrer copied them. "You good student. A'ways use same order for strokes, easy, then no forget."

"Yes, I'm beginning to understand. Thank you, you're very helpful," Tyrer replied pleasantly, enjoying writing and reading and learning --and teaching him in return, noticing that Nakama was highly intelligent and a quick study. He worked through the list with him, and when he was satisfied he said, "Good. Thank you. Now please go to Raiko-san and confirm my appointment for tomorrow."

""Conf'rm," p'rease?"

"Make sure of. Make sure my appointment is certain."

"Ah, understand." Hiraga rubbed his chin, already dark with an overnight stubble. "I go now conf'rm."

"I'll be back after lunch. Please be here, then we can practice conversation and you can tell me more about Japan. How do I say that in Japanese?" Hiraga gave him the words.

Tyrer wrote them phonetically in an exercise book, now crammed with words and phrases, repeated them several times until satisfied.

He was about to dismiss him, then, on a sudden thought said, "What's a "ronin"?"

Hiraga thought a moment, then explained as simply as he could. But not about shishi.

"Then you're a ronin, outlawed?"

"Hai."

Thoughtfully Tyrer thanked him and let him go.

He stifled a yawn. Last night he had slept badly, his world upside down at Raiko's unexpected rejection.

Damn Raiko, damn Fujiko, he thought, putting on his top hat, preparing to walk down High Street to the Club for tiffin lunch.

Damn learning Japanese and damn everything, my head aches and I'll never never never learn this dreadfully complicated language. "Don't be ridiculous," he said aloud. Of course you will, you've got Nakama and Andr`e, two very good teachers, tonight you'll have a good supper, a bottle of champagne with someone jolly, and so to bed. And don't damn Fujiko, soon you'll sleep with her again. Oh God, I hope so!

The day was fair and the bay crowded with ships.

Traders were converging on the Club. "Oh hello, Andr`e! Good to see you, would you care to join me for lunch?"

"Thank you no." Poncin did not stop.

"What's up? You all right?"

"Nothing's up. Some other time."

"Tomorrow?" Not like Andr`e to be so abrupt.

Damn I wanted to ask him what I should-- "I'll join you, Phillip, if I may,"