‘Barbaric practice,’ Parker shuddered.

‘You have a lot to learn.’

They played in silence for the next half hour. Just the chime of a grandfather clock somewhere inside and the alarm cry of a goldfinch disturbed their thoughts. Then Theo, on edge and tired of the game, sprang his trap and Parker’s king fell.

‘Well done, old boy. You got me fair and square.’ Parker leaned back in the cane chair, untroubled by the loss, and took his time lighting up his beloved briar pipe. ‘So why have you called me over here today? I know you hate this place. It’s not just for chess, is it?’

‘No.’

‘Well?’

‘I’m having a spot of trouble with Mason.’

‘The education department johnny? The one with the loud mouth and the quiet wife.’

‘That’s the one.’

‘What of him?’

‘Alfred, listen to me. I need to find out something about him, something dirty in his past. Something I can use to get the swine off my back. You’re a journalist, you have contacts and know how to dig around.’

Parker looked shocked. He drew on his pipe and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke that caught a passing butterfly. ‘Sounds bad, old chap. What’s he up to?’

Theo kept it short. ‘I owe Courtney Bank a fair sum. For the expansion of my school last year. Mason is a director of the bank – you know how he puts himself about – and he’s threatening to call in the loan unless…’

‘Unless what?’

‘Unless I oblige him.’

Parker coughed awkwardly. ‘Good God, man, what does that mean?’

Theo stubbed out his cigarette, grinding it into dust. ‘It means he wants to make use of Li Mei.’

Alfred Parker turned bright red, even the tip of his nose. ‘I say, Theo, that’s not on, old chap. I don’t think I want to hear any more.’ He glanced away and his eyes followed a native servant in white tunic as he approached the veranda with a small tray in his hand.

Theo leaned forward and tapped Parker’s knee sharply. ‘Don’t be a fool, Alfred. That’s not what I mean. What do you take me for? Li Mei is my…’ He stopped when Parker’s gaze turned accusingly on him.

‘Your what, Theo? Your partner in adultery? Your whore?’

Theo became very still, only the whiteness of his lips betraying him. ‘That is an insult to Li Mei, Alfred. I ask you to withdraw it.’

‘I can’t. It’s true.’

Theo stood up with a jerky motion. ‘The sooner England abandons the racist and religious straitjackets that paralyse men like you and Sir Edward and all the other damned social misfits that cram into this club, the sooner our people and the people of China will be free. Free to think. Free to live. Free to…’

‘Whoa, my friend. We are all out here to do our duty by king and country. Just because you’ve gone native doesn’t mean you can suddenly assume that the rest of us should forget the laws of God, the need for clearly defined lines of good and evil, of right and wrong. God knows, in this cruel and heathen country His Word is their only hope. His Word and the British Army.’

‘China was civilised hundreds of years before Britain was even thought of.’

‘You can’t call this civilised.’

Theo said nothing. Stood stiffly. Eyes directed at, but not seeing, the two couples who had just taken to the lawn for a game of croquet.

‘Sit down, Theo,’ Parker said quietly.

He disguised the awkwardness of the moment by digging around in his pipe and rapping its bowl with his forefinger. From the lawn came the crack of one ball against another and a cry of ‘I say, Corky, that’s a bit rum.’

Suddenly Theo shook himself. Like a dog shakes off water. His eyes half closed, he looked down at his companion. ‘Alfred, if I believed you were right, I’d leave Junchow tomorrow. But I have faith in these people, in what you call this “cruel and heathen country.”’ He sat down again, stretching out his long legs in an imitation of relaxation, and waved a hand at the Chinese servant with the tray. In perfect Mandarin he said, ‘A whisky, please.’ He turned back to Alfred and smiled. ‘Let us agree to differ. You know I’m what Mason calls a Chink lover.’

Alfred was meant to laugh. But he didn’t.

‘You can’t have it both ways, Theo. Neither fish nor fowl. You want the Establishment to send you their children to educate, yet you go out of your way to parade your disdain for their parents. How can it…?’ He stopped. Stared at the retreating figure of the servant as he crossed the veranda. ‘Boy, come back here immediately.’

‘What’s up, Alfred?’

But Parker was on his feet.

The servant was standing looking at them but came no nearer. Alfred strode over to him.

‘What do you think you’re doing here?’ he demanded.

The Chinese said nothing.

Theo went over to them. What the hell had got into Alfred?

‘Something is not right here,’ Parker said, prodding his pipe toward the servant. ‘Look at him.’

Theo looked. Neat white tunic and tray in hand. ‘Seems fine to me.’

‘Don’t talk rubbish. His face is beaten up.’

‘So?’

‘And his trousers are all wrong. Black but not the regulation uniform. And the bandaged foot, shoes a mess. The club would never let someone looking like that serve the members here. This boy is an intruder.’

‘I work.’ The servant held up the tray. ‘Drinks.’

But now that Theo considered it, he could see what Alfred meant. He was right, this boy was not like the others. His eyes were not a servant’s eyes. They stared straight back at you, as if he wanted to strike out at you, to hang your head in one of those cursed bamboo cages.

‘Who are you?’ Theo asked in Mandarin.

But Alfred was pointing at the boy’s trouser pocket, which bulged at his side. ‘Empty that out. Right now.’

The boy flicked his gaze insolently from Parker’s panama hat to his polished brogue shoes and didn’t move.

‘Do as you are told,’ Theo said in Mandarin. ‘Empty your pockets or you’ll be whipped like a gutter dog.’

‘Fetch the security guards,’ Parker shouted. ‘We had a robbery here last night. This person is…’

‘Empty your pockets,’ Theo repeated sharply.

For a moment he thought the boy was going to strike. Something in his eyes seemed to struggle free, something wild and angry, but then it was caged once more and the boy lowered his gaze. Without a word he tipped his pocket inside out, spilling its contents onto the tiled floor of the veranda. A large handful of salted peanuts skidded around their feet.

Theo laughed. ‘So much for your jewel thief, Alfred. The boy’s just hungry.’

But Parker was not ready to let go so easily. ‘And your other pockets.’

The boy did as he was told. A length of bamboo twine, a fishing hook wrapped in clay, and a folded sheet of paper covered in Chinese character writing. Theo picked it up and scanned it briefly.

‘What is it?’ Parker asked.

‘Nothing much. A poster for a gathering of some sort.’

But as the boy bent to retrieve his belongings, Theo caught a glimpse of the bone handle of a knife tucked into his belt, and suddenly he was frightened for his friend.

‘Let him go, Alfred. This is nothing to us. The boy was hungry. Most of China is hungry.’

‘A thief is a thief, Theo. Be it peanuts or jewels. Thou shalt not steal, remember?’ But he was no longer angry. His face looked sad, his spectacles sliding halfway down his nose. ‘We owe them that much, Theo. To teach them right from wrong, not just how to lay rail tracks and build factories.’

He reached out to take hold of the boy’s arm, but Theo intervened. He seized Parker’s wrist.

‘Don’t, Alfred. Not this time.’ He turned to the silent figure with the black eyes full of hatred. ‘Go,’ he said quickly in Chinese. ‘And don’t come back.’

The boy set off around the lawn, loping with an uneven stride into the trees that skirted the grounds, then he was gone. To Theo the image was of a creature returning to its jungle, and he wondered what had tempted it out into the open. Certainly not peanuts.