“Comment?”

“People have noticed. They talk, you know. It’s not good… for the family.”

“What nonsense. It was Sylvester who suggested Toby should accompany me.”

“Even so, I will come.”

When Toby arrived he showed no great surprise to see Adam. We rode off together. Adam was interesting and informative but his presence had a sobering effect on us.

After that I became accustomed to these threesome rides and in time Adam seemed to unbend a little and the three of us would talk about Chinese Art and treasures so enthusiastically that the rides became as enjoyable as ever.

One day when we came near to the waterfront we saw a big blaze in the sky.

We spurred up our horses to see where the fire was and to our honor it was discovered that it was Adam’s home. I shall never forget the change in him.

He leaped from his horse and ran. I heard afterwards that he had gone into the house and rescued one of the Chinese servants—the only one who was trapped in that blazing furnace.

Everyone else was safe but it did mean that Adam was without a home.

It was only natural that he should come to The House of a Thousand Lanterns. Sylvester insisted on it.

“There’s plenty of room here,” he said. “I should be offended if you did not come.”

“Thank you,” replied Adam stiffly. “But I promise you I shall do my best to find somewhere to live as quickly as possible.”

“My dear nephew,” protested Sylvester, “you know very well there is no need to hurry. You have had a great shock. Don’t think about burning. We shall be delighted to have you. Isn’t that so, Jane?”

I said of course we should.

Adam looked at me ruefully, and I was reminded of the first time we had met when I had had the impression he had thought me something of an adventuress.

I was almost certain that he regarded me as an interloper.


* * *

The fire had gutted the house. It was nothing but a shell. Adam ruefully told us that although it was insured he had lost some valuable pieces which were irreplaceable. He was very disconsolate. He told me in detail what had been lost and I commiserated with him. “We might never again find such pieces,” he mourned.

“There’s a kind of challenge in the search though,” I reminded him. “You won’t find the same pieces, of course, but might there not be something equally rewarding?”

He looked at me quizzically and with a sudden intuition I realized he was comparing my tragedy with his. I had lost Joliffe; he had lost his treasured collection. Might we not both find something equally compensating?

From that moment my relationship with Adam changed. It was as though he cast off a mask which revealed new phases of his character. I came to the conclusion that he was a man who armed himself against life because of something he feared from it; now it was as though he had laid aside some of his defensive weapons.

We entertained now and then. There was quite a social life in the colony.

“The English community sticks together here,” Sylvester explained to me. “Naturally we visit each other’s houses.”

We gave the occasional dinner party and sometimes visited friends who had known Sylvester and his family for years. I enjoyed these parties and once or twice when Sylvester was not well enough to attend them, he insisted that I go with Adam. The conversation was usually lively and although it was not always about Chinese Art, manners, and customs, which Sylvester so much enjoyed, it often revolved round the affairs of the place.

I was beginning to settle into this way of life.


* * *

One day Lottie came to my bedroom. She looked enchantingly secretive, her dark eyes sparkling.

“Great Lady, I have big favor to ask,” she said.

“What is it Lottie?”

“Very great lady begs you visit.”

“Begs me visit her? Who is this great lady?”

Lottie bowed as though in reverence to some absent deity. “Chan Cho Lan asks you come.”

“Why does she ask me? I don’t know her.”

Lottie’s face puckered. “Great Lady must come. If not Chan Cho Lan lose face.”

I knew that the last thing any Chinese wished to do was to lose face. So I said: “Tell me more about this lady.”

“Very great lady,” said Lottie in awestruck tones. “Daughter of mandarin. I was in her house when I am little girl. I serve her.”

“And now she wishes to see me.”

“She asks if honorable great lady will visit her miserable house. You not come she lose bad face.”

“Then I must go,” I said.

Lottie smiled happily. “I serve her… I serve you. So she see you and she say ‘How does that miserable one who once serve me and now serve you?’”

“I shall say that I am fond of her and she is certainly not miserable.”

Lottie lifted her shoulders and giggled—a habit which some might have found irritating because it could indicate embarrassment, sorrow or pleasure so that one could never quite be sure of her feelings. I found it rather charming.

And so I went to the house of Chan Cho Lan.


* * *

I was surprised that we had no need of a rickshaw. The house was quite close to ours. I had been unaware of it because it was surrounded by a high wall. So Chan Cho Lan was our nearest neighbor.

I left Jason with Ling Fu, and Lottie and I walked the short distance. A Chinese servant opened the gate for us and we went into the courtyard. The lawn was very similar to our own. There were the miniature trees and shrubs and a bamboo bridge. These were dwarfed by the great banyan tree which spread itself over the grass.

I was astonished at the sight of the house which was almost an exact replica of The House of a Thousand Lanterns with one exception—the lanterns were missing.

The tinkle of wind bells sounded like a gentle warning as we approached. A man in black trousers and frogged tunic appeared suddenly. Pigtailed and conical-hatted, he bowed. Then he clapped his hands. Lottie walked past him and we mounted two steps to the marble platform on which the house was built. A door opened and we stepped inside.

A gong sounded and two more Chinese who seemed identical to those I had seen before came towards us bowing.

They signed us to follow them.

It was gloomy in the house and I was immediately aware of the silence. The same uneasiness struck me as that which I had experienced when I had first entered The House of a Thousand Lanterns.

In what appeared to be a hall, two Chinese dragons stood side by side at the foot of a staircase; the walls were hung with embroidered silk and I knew enough to realize that they depicted the rise and the fall of one of the dynasties. I couldn’t help attempting to assess their value, such a collector had I become. I should like to have examined them more closely and I immediately thought of bringing Adam here and asking his opinion.

Lottie was signing to me that we must follow the servant.

He pushed aside a curtain and we were in another room. Here again the walls were hung with similar exquisitely embroidered silk. Beautifully colored Chinese rugs were on the floor. There was no furniture but a low table and a number of tall cushions—rather like the articles we called poufs at home.

We stood waiting and then Chan Cho Lan came into the room.

I was startled at the sight of her. Beautiful she undoubtedly was, but hers was a different beauty from the fresh and natural kind I so admired in Lottie. This was the cultivated beauty—the orchid from the hothouse rather than the lily of the field.

I could not take my eyes from her. She could have stepped right out of a painting of the Tang period.

She did not so much walk as sway towards us. I later heard the movement described as the waving of a willow stirred by a faint breeze and this described it aptly. Everything about Chan Cho Lan was graceful and completely feminine. Her gown was of silk of the palest blue very delicately embroidered in pink, white and green; she wore trousers of the same silk material; her abundant black hair was dressed high on her head and two bodkins stuck in crosswise held it in place. Jewels sparkled in her hair in the form of a Chinese phoenix (the foong-hâng, Lottie afterwards told me, for she talked of Chan Cho Lan ecstatically when we returned to The House of a Thousand Lanterns). The face of this exquisite creature had been delicately painted and her eyebrows curved to what Lottie called the young leaflet of the willow but which reminded me of a new moon.

A delicate aroma clung to her. She was a creature made to adorn any place in which she happened to be. I was very curious as to who she was and what her life had been.

She bowed to me and I was indeed reminded of the willow tree as she swayed on her tiny slippered feet. I thought immediately of Lottie’s distress about her own feet and I guessed that Chan Cho Lan had not escaped the torture. I felt awkward and I wondered what she thought of me.

“It was gracious of you to come,” she said slowly as though she had learned the phrase off by heart and was repeating a lesson.

I replied that it was even more gracious of her to invite me.

She fluttered her hands. They were beautiful hands and she wore nail shields of jade. Her nails must have been about three inches long. Lottie indicated to me that I should be seated so I sat on one of the cushions; Lottie remained standing until Chan Cho Lan gracefully sat.

Again there was a flutter of the hands and Lottie sat down. Chan Cho Lan clapped her hands. I heard the sound of a gong from without and a servant came into the room.