She smiled. Her front teeth were missing but for the first time she looked happy.

The shack on the riverbank was foul and airless, but Theo barely noticed. The night was almost over. He was off the water and would soon be in his own bath with Li Mei’s sweet fingers washing the sweat off his back. Relief thundered into his brain and suddenly made him want to kick Feng Tu Hong in the balls. Instead he bowed.

‘It went well?’ Feng asked.

‘Like clockwork.’

‘So the moon did not steal your blood tonight.’

‘As you see, I am here. Your ship and crew are safe to run another night, another collection.’ He rested a foot on the crate that stood between them on the floor, as if it were his to give or take away at whim. It was an illusion. They both knew that. Outside, a cart stood ready.

‘Your government mandarin is indeed a great man,’ Feng bowed courteously.

‘So great that he talks to the gods themselves,’ Theo said and held out his hand.

Feng let his lips spread in what was meant to be a smile, and from a leather satchel on his hip he drew two pouches. He handed them to Theo. Both clinked with coins, but one was heavier than the other.

‘Do not forget which is yours,’ Feng said softly.

Theo nodded with satisfaction. ‘No, Feng Tu Hong, I will not forget what I owe this mandarin, you may be sure of that.’

‘Don’t be angry.’

‘I am not.’

But she was standing stiff and silent by the window. Theo had not expected this.

‘Please, Mei.’

‘It is only fit for the stewing pot.’

‘Don’t be so brutal.’

‘Look at it, Tiyo, it’s a disgusting creature.’

‘It will catch mice.’

‘So will a trap, and a trap doesn’t stink like a camel’s backside.’

‘I’ll bathe it.’

‘But why?’

‘I promised the woman.’

‘You promised her you’d take it. That doesn’t mean you can’t eat it.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Mei, that’s barbaric.’

‘What good is it? It will do nothing but eat and sleep and sharpen its claws on you. It’s just ugly and nasty.’

Theo looked at the grey cat hunched under a chair, its yellow eyes full of pus and hatred. It was certainly ugly, with half one ear missing and its face battered and scarred. Its fur was patchy and looked as if it had not been washed in months.

Theo sighed, exhaustion taking over. ‘Maybe I’m hoping that when I’m old and ugly and crochety, someone will do the same for me.’

He caught her smiling at him.

‘Oh, Tiyo, you are so… English.’

He lay in bed but he didn’t sleep. Li Mei’s breath was sweet and warm on his neck and he wondered what dreams made her eyelids flicker so fast, but his own anger at what he had done tonight was too cold and hard in his chest to allow sleep to come. Drug trafficking.

He reminded himself of the reason why he’d risked his life out there on the river in a matchstick boat. His school. He would not give up his Willoughby Academy. Would not. Could not. What difference did it make?

But they would be over soon, these night excursions. He promised himself that.

19

Lydia was at her schooldesk when the police came for her. She was in the middle of writing into her exercise book a list of the mineral wealth of Australia. There seemed to be a lot of gold down there. Miss Ainsley escorted the English officer into the classroom, and Lydia knew before he even opened his mouth that she was the one he’d come to arrest. They’d found out about the necklace. But how? The fear that, because of her, Chang might also be cornered by police made her feel ill.

‘How can I help you, Sergeant?’ Theo asked. He looked almost as shocked by the intrusion as she was herself.

‘I’d like a word with Miss Lydia Ivanova, if I may.’ The policeman in his dark uniform overpowered the classroom; his broad shoulders and big feet seemed to fill the space between the floor and the ceiling. His manner was polite but curt.

Mr Theo walked over to Lydia and rested a hand on her shoulder. She was surprised by his support.

‘What is this about?’ he asked the sergeant.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I can’t discuss that. I just need to take her down to the police station for a few questions.’

Lydia was so panicked by his words that she even thought of making a run for it, but she knew she didn’t stand a chance. Anyway her legs were trembling too much. She’d just have to lie, and lie well. She stood up and gave the sergeant a confident smile that made the muscles of her cheeks hurt.

‘Certainly, sir. I’m happy to help.’

Mr Theo patted her back and Polly gave her a grin. Somehow Lydia made her legs move, one foot in front of the other, heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe, and wondered if anyone else could hear the banging in her chest.

‘Miss Ivanova, you were at the Ulysses Club the night the ruby necklace was stolen.’

‘Yes.’

‘You were searched.’

‘Yes.’

‘Nothing was found.’

‘No.’

‘I’d like to apologise for the indignity.’

Lydia remained silent. She watched warily. He was laying a trap for her, she was certain, but she couldn’t yet see how or where.

It was Commissioner Lacock himself, so she knew she was in real trouble. Just being in the police station at all was bad enough, but to be escorted into the commissioner’s office and told to sit down in front of his big glossy desk made her hear the clang of the prison cell door in her head. Shut in. Four bare walls. Cockroaches and fleas and lice. No air. No life. She was frightened she would blurt it out, confess everything, just to get away from this man.

‘You gave me a statement that night.’

She wished he’d sit down. He was standing behind his desk with a sheet of paper in his hand – what was on it? – and was studying her with grey eyes so sharp she could feel them piercing through each layer of her lies. The monocle just made it worse. His uniform was very dark, almost black, full of gold braid and bright silver bits that she felt were designed to intimidate. Oh yes, she was intimidated all right but had no intention of letting him know it. She concentrated on the tufts of hair poking out of his ears and the ugly liver spots on his hands. The weak bits.

‘Commissioner Lacock, has my mother been informed I’m here?’ She made it haughty. Like Countess Serova and her son Alexei.

He frowned and rubbed an impatient hand across his thinning hair. ‘Is that necessary at the moment?’

‘Yes. I want her here.’

‘Then we shall fetch her.’ He gave a nod to a young policeman positioned by the door, who promptly disappeared. One down, one more to go.

‘And do I need a lawyer?’

He placed the sheet of paper on top of a pile on his desk. She wanted to read it upside down but didn’t dare take her eyes from his. He was staring at her with what looked like an amused expression. Cat and mouse. Play before you pounce. Her hands were sweating.

‘I hardly think so, my dear. We’ve only asked you down here to pick a man out of a lineup.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, the man you described in your statement. The prowler you saw through the library window of the Ulysses Club. Remember him?’

He was waiting for a reply. Relief had robbed her of breath. She nodded.

‘Good, then let’s go and take a look at them, shall we?’

He walked over to the door and to Lydia’s amazement her own legs followed as if it were easy.

It was a plain room with green walls and brown linoleum on the floor. Six men stood in a row and each one of them turned hostile brown eyes on her as she entered, flanked by two policemen. The policemen were burly and big, but the men in the lineup were bigger, shoulders as wide as a shed and fists like slabs of meat at their sides. Where had they found them all?