"I think it was enteric. I, I was a POW in Changi in '45—actually between '42 and '45, partially in Java but mostly in Changi.""Oh. Oh I see. Sorry about that." Dr. Tooley remembered all the horror stories that came out of Asia after the war about the treatment of British and American troops by the Japanese Army. "I always felt betrayed in a curious way," the doctor said sadly. "The Japanese'd always been our ally . . . they're an island nation, so're we. Good fighters. I was a doctor with the Chindits. Went in with Wingate twice." Wingate was an eccentric British general who had devised a completely unorthodox battle plan to send highly mobile columns of marauding British soldiers, code name Chindits, from India into the jungles of Burma deep behind Japanese lines, supplying them by airdrop. "I was lucky—the whole Chindit operation was rather dicey," he said. As he talked he was watching Fleur, weighing clues, sending his experience into her, trying to detect the disease now, trying to isolate the enemy among a myriad of possibilities before it harmed the fetus. "Bloody planes kept missing our drops.""I met a couple of your fellows at Changi." The younger man searched his memory. "In '43 or '44, I can't remember when exactly. Or any names. They'd been sent down to Changi after they were captured.""That'd be '43." The doctor was somber. "One whole column got caught and ambushed early on. Those jungles are unbelievable if you've never been in one. We didn't know what the devil we were doing most of the time. Afraid not many of the lads survived to get to Changi." Dr. Tooley was a fine old man with a big nose and sparse hair and warm hands, and he smiled down at Fleur. "So, young lady," he said with his kind, gruff voice. "You've a slight fev—""Oh . . . sorry, Doctor," she said quickly, interrupting him, suddenly white, "I, I think . . ." She got out of bed and hurried awkwardly for the bathroom. The door closed behind her. There was a fleck of blood on the back of her nightdress."Is she all right?" Marlowe asked, his face stark."Temperature's a hundred and three, heartbeat's up. It could just be gastroenteritis. . . ." The doctor looked at him."Could it be hepatitis?""No. Not this quickly. The incubation period's six weeks to two months. I'm afraid that specter's hanging over everyone's head. Sorry." A rain squall battered the windows. He glanced at them and frowned, remembering that he had not told Dunross and the Americans about the danger of hepatitis. Perhaps it'll be better just to wait and see and be patient. Joss, he thought. "Two months, to be safe. You've both had all your shots so there shouldn't be any problem about typhoid.""And the baby?""If the cramps get worse she may miscarry, Mr. Marlowe," the doctor said softly. "Sorry, but it's best to know. Either way it won't be easy for her—God only knows what viruses and bacteria're at Aberdeen. The place's a public sewer and has been for a century. Shocking, but nothing we can do about it." He rummaged in his pocket for his prescription pad. "You can't change the Chinese or habits of centuries. Sorry.""Joss," Peter Marlowe said, feeling rotten. "Will everyone get sick? There must have been forty or fifty of us thrashing around in the water—impossible not to drink some of that muck."The doctor hesitated. "Of fifty, perhaps five'll be very sick, five'll be untouched and the rest'll be in between. Hong Kong van—that's Hong Kongites—they should be less affected than visitors. But, as you say, a lot of it's joss." He found his pad. "I'll give you a prescription for a rather newfangled intestinal antibiotic but continue with good old Dr. Colicos's Remedy—that will settle your tummies. Watch her very carefully. Do you have a thermometer?""Oh yes. With …" A spasm went through Peter Marlowe, shook him and went away. "Traveling with young kids you have to have a survival kit." Both men were trying not to watch the bathroom door. They could half-hear her as her pain waxed and waned."How old are your children?" Dr. Tooley asked absently, keeping the concern from his voice as he wrote. When he had come in he had noticed the happy chaos of the tiny second bedroom off the small drab living room—barely big enough for its two-tiered bunk, the toys scattered. "Mine are grown up now. I've three daughters.""What? Oh, ours are four and eight. They're . . . they're both girls.""Do you have an amah?""Oh yes. Yes. With all the rain this morning she took the kids to school. They go across the harbor and pick up a bo-pi " A bo-pi was an unlicensed taxi that was quite illegal but most everyone used them from time to time. "The school's off Garden Road. Most days they insist on toddling off themselves. They're perfectly safe.""Oh yes. Yes of course."Their ears were fine-tuned now to her torment. Each muted strain went through both men."Well, don't worry," the doctor said hesitantly. "I'll have the drugs sent up—there's a pharmacy in the hotel. I'll have it put on your bill. I'll come back this evening at six, as near to six as I can. If there's any problem . . ." He offered a prescription blank gently. "My phone number's on this. Don't hesitate to call, eh?""Thanks. Now about your bill . . .""No need to worry about that, Mr. Marlowe. The first order of business is to get you well." Dr. Tooley was concentrating on the door. He was afraid to leave. "Were you army?""No. Air force.""Ah! My brother was one of the Few. He pranged in . . ." He stopped.Fleur Marlowe was calling out hesitantly through the door, "Doctor . . . cou . . . could you . . . please . . ."Tooley went to the door. "Yes, Mrs. Marlowe? Are you all right?""Cou . . . could you please . . ." He opened the door and closed it after him. The sour sweet stench in the tiny bathroom was heavy but he paid it no attention."I … it .. ." Another spasm twisted her. "Now don't worry," he said, calming her, and put one hand on her back and the other on her stomach, helping to support her tormented abdominal muscles. His hands massaged gently and with great knowledge. "There, there! Just let yourself go, I won't let you fall." He felt the knotting under his fingers and willed his warmth and strength into her. "You're just about my daughter's age, my youngest. I've three and the eldest has two children…. There, just let yourself relax, just think the pains away, soon you'll feel nice and warm. . . ." In time the cramps passed."I … God, sorr . . . sorry." The young woman groped for the toilet roll but another cramp took her and another. It was awkward for him in the small room but he tended her and kept his strong hands supporting her as best he could. An ache leapt into his back. "I'm . . . I'm all right now," she said. "Thank you." He knew she was not. The sweat had soaked her. He sponged off her face and dried it for her. Then he helped her stand, taking her weight, gentling her all the time. He cleaned her. The paper showed traces of blood and the bowl traces of blood mucus among the discolored water but she was not hemorrhaging yet and he sighed with relief. "You're going to be fine," he said. "Here, hold on a second. Don't be afraid!" He guided her hands to the sink. Quickly he folded a dry towel lengthwise and wrapped it tightly around her stomach, tucking the ends in to hold it. "This's the best for gippy tummy, the very best. It supports your turn and keeps it warm. My grandfather was a doctor too, in the Indian Army, and he swore this was the best." He looked at her keenly. "You're a fine brave young lady. You're going to be fine. Ready?" "Yes. Sorr—sorry about . . ."He opened the door. Peter Marlowe rushed to help. They put her to bed. She lay there exhausted, a thread of damp hair on her forehead.Dr. Tooley brushed it away and stared down at her thoughtfully. "I think, young lady, that we'll put you into a nursing home for a day or two.""Oh but … but . . .""Nothing to worry about. But we'd better give the baby-to-be every chance, eh? And with two small children here to fret over. Two days of rest will be enough." His gruff voice touched both of them, calming them. "I'll make the arrangements and be back in a quarter of an hour." He looked at Peter Marlowe under his great bushy eyebrows. "The nursing home's in Kowloon so it'll save any long journey to the Island. A lot of us use it and it's good, clean and equipped for any emergency. Perhaps you'd pack a small bag for her?" He wrote the address and phone number. "So, young lady, I'll be back in a few minutes. It'll be best, then you won't have to worry about the children. I know what a trial that can be if you're sick." He smiled at both of them. "Don't worry about a thing, Mr. Marlowe, eh? I'll talk to your houseboy and ask him to help make things shipshape here. And don't worry about the money." The deep lines around his eyes deepened even more. "We're very philanthropic here in Hong Kong with our young guests."