“Aye?” he snapped harshly at a knock on the door.
“Excuse me, Mr. Struan,” Horatio said, opening the door. “His Excellency would like you to wait on him.”
“What’s amiss?”
“Perhaps His Excellency should tell you, sir. He’s in his quarters.”
Struan closed the ledger. “We’ll take this up with Robb as soon as we get back, Vargas. You’re coming to the ball?”
“I’d get no peace for the next ten years, senhor, if my lady, my son and my eldest daughter weren’t there.”
“Are you fetching them from Macao?”
“No, senhor. They’re being escorted to Hong Kong by friends. I’ll go direct from here.”
“As soon as Mauss returns, send me word.” Struan walked out and Horatio fell into step.
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Struan, for Mary’s gift.”
“What?”
“The ball gown, sir.”
“Oh. Have you seen what she’s had made?”
“Oh no, sir. She left for Macao the day after the land sale. I got a letter from her yesterday. She sends her best to you.” Horatio knew that the gift of the gown gave Mary a very good chance to win the prize. Except for Shevaun. If only Shevaun would get sick! Nothing serious, just enough to eliminate her on
the day. Then Mary would win the thousand guineas. With that they could do marvelous things! Go home for the season. Live in splendor. Oh God, let her win the prize! I’m glad she’s away from Hong Kong while I’m here, he told himself. Then she’s out of Glessing’s reach. Damned man. I wonder if he’ll really ask for her hand. What cheek! He and Culum . . . ah, Culum . . . poor Culum.
Horatio was a step behind Struan as they climbed the stairs so he did not have to hide his disquiet. Poor, brave Culum. He remembered how strange Culum had been the day after the land sale. He and Mary had sought Culum out and had found him aboard
Resting Cloud. Culum had asked them to stay to dinner, and every time they tried to bring the conversation around to the Tai-Pan, hoping to make peace between them, Culum had changed the subject. Then finally Culum had said, “Let’s forget my father, shall we? I have.”
“You mustn’t, Culum,” Mary had said. “He’s a wonderful man.”
“We’re enemies now, Mary, like it or not. I don’t think he’ll change, and until he does, I won’t.”
Poor, brave Culum, Horatio thought. I know what it’s like to hate a father.
“Tai-Pan,” he said as they reached the landing, “Mary and I were terribly sorry about what happened over the knoll. But even sorrier about what’s happened between you and Culum. Culum’s, well, become quite a friend, and—”
“Thank you for the thought, Horatio, but I’d be glad if you’d na mention it again.”
Horatio and Struan crossed the landing in silence and went into Longstaff’s anteroom. It was large and rich. A huge candelabrum dominated the ornate ceiling and the gleaming conference table underneath it. Longstaff sat at the head of the table, the admiral and General Lord Rutledge-Cornhill flanking him.
“Day, gentlemen.”
“Good of you to join us, Dirk,” Longstaff said. “Take a seat, my dear fellow. I thought your advice would be valuable.”
“What’s amiss, Your Excellency?”
“Well, er, I asked Mr. Brock to join us too. It can wait till he comes, then I don’t have to repeat myself, what? Sherry?”
“Thank you.”
The door opened and Brock strode in. His caution increased when he saw Struan and the resplendent officers.
“You be wanting me, Yor Excellency?”
“Yes. Please take a seat.”
Brock nodded at Struan. “Day, Dirk. Day, gents,” he added, knowing it would infuriate the general. He was grimly amused by the cold nods he received in return.
“I asked you two to join us,” Longstaff began, “well, apart from the fact that you’re the leaders of the traders, what?—well, your counsel would be valuable. It seems that a group of anarchists has settled on Hong Kong.”
“What?” the general erupted.
“ ’S truth!” Brock said, equally surprised.
“Contemptible anarchists, can you imagine that? Seems that even the heathen are infected by those devils. Yes, if we don’t watch out, Hong Kong will become a hotbed. Blasted nuisance, what?”
“What sort of anarchists?” Struan asked. Anarchists meant trouble. Trouble interfered with trade.
“This, er, what was the word, Horatio? ‘Tang’? ‘Tung’?”
“ ‘Tong,’ sir.”
“Well, this long’s already operating under our very noses. Dreadful.”
“Operating in what way?” Struan asked impatiently.
“Perhaps you’d better start from the beginning, sir,” the admiral said.
“Good idea. At the meeting today the Viceroy Ching-so was most upset. He said the Chinese authorities had just learned that these anarchists, a secret society, have set up their headquarters in that festering eyesore, Tai Ping Shan. The anarchists have many, many names and they’re—well, you’d better tell them, Horatio.”
“Ching-so said that this was a group of revolutionary fanatics who are committed to overthrow the emperor,” Horatio began. “He gave His Excellency half a hundred names that the society went under—Red Party, Red Brotherhood, Heaven and Earth Society, and so on—it’s almost impossible to translate some of the names into English. Some call it just the ‘Hung Mun’ or ‘Hung Tong’ —‘tong’ meaning a ‘secret brotherhood.’ ” He collected his thoughts. “In any event, these men are anarchists of the worst order. Thieves, pirates, revolutionaries. For centuries the authorities have tried to stamp them out, without success. There are supposed to be a million members in South China. They’re organized in lodges and their initiation ceremonies are barbaric. They foster rebellion under any pretext and feed on the fear of their brothers. They demand ‘protection money.’ Every prostitute, merchant, peasant, landowner, coolie—everyone is subject to paying them squeeze. If no squeeze is forthcoming, then death or mutilation follows quickly. Every member pays dues—rather like a trade union. Wherever there’s discontent, the tong whips the discontented into rebellion. They’re fanatics. They rape, torture and spread like a plague.”
“Have you ever heard of Chinese secret societies?” Struan asked. “Before Ching-so mentioned it?”
“No, sir.”
“Anarchists be devils, right enough,” Brock said worriedly. “That be the sort of devilment the Chinee’d go for.”
Longstaff pushed a small, red triangular banner across the table. There were two Chinese characters on it. “The viceroy said that the triangle is always their symbol. The characters on this flag mean ‘Hong Kong.’ In any event we’ve trouble on our hands, that’s certain. Ching-so wants to send bannermen and mandarins into Tai Ping Shan and go through it with a sword.”
“You did na agree?” Struan said.
“Good God, no. We’re having no interference on our island, by Jove. I told him we’d have no truck with anarchists under our flag and we’d deal with them promptly, in our own way. Now, what should we do?”
“Throw every man jack Oriental off Hong Kong and be done with it,” the admiral said.