“Your husband tells me that you are not well, Mrs. Milner,” he said.

“I feel quite well at times; at others there’s a sort of lassitude.”

“You have no pain of any sort?”

I shook my head. “At times I feel quite… normal. And then this seems to descend on me.”

“Just tiredness?”

“And er… rather violent dreams.”

“Your husband told me that you had walked in your sleep. I think, Mrs. Milner, that you may not be adjusted to life out here.”

“I have been here for nearly two years.”

“I know. But this can manifest itself some time after the arrival. You are not apparently suffering from any malady except this lassitude and disturbed nights. The lassitude could be the result of the bad nights.”

“I sleep most of the nights.”

“Yes, but perhaps not peacefully, not deeply. And you have these nightmares. Perhaps you should contemplate a trip home.”

“In due course, yes. At the time there is so much to be done here.”

He understood.

“Still, I should think about it if I were you. In the meantime I will prescribe a tonic. I am sure that in a little while you will be yourself.”

Afterwards I said to Joliffe: “You should have told me you were getting the doctor. Really I felt something of a hypochondriac. There doesn’t seem to be anything much wrong with me.”

“Thank God for that.”

“I’m apparently not adjusted to life in the East. He suggested a trip home.”

“How would you like that, Jane?”

“I think I would like it very much but it isn’t possible just yet.”

“There’s no harm in thinking about it.”

“Would you like it, Joliffe?”

“I’d like anything that made you well… and happy.”

He was so tender that my heart was touched. He had that power. He could make me happy by a look or an inflection of his voice merely. So much did I love him.

I started to think about home: Mrs. Couch getting the house ready; I could see her purring over Jason. She would hate it with the house deserted by what she called the upstairs folk. I thought of green meadows and the buttercups with the dew on them and the fields which looked like patchwork and the leafy lanes—the first primroses and the crocuses, white, yellow, and mauve peeping out of the grass. It all seemed so normal and so far away. I was sure I should be completely well there. And a great nostalgia swept over me.

I took the doctor’s tonic and for a time it seemed to do me good. I became very excited when Joliffe found a Buddhist temple gate which he was certain was of the ninth or tenth century A.D. Toby and Adam doubted this and I couldn’t help feeling gratified when, after we had tracked down records, Joliffe was proved to be right. Sylvester had underestimated Joliffe, I told myself. He cared as passionately about the work as Sylvester had, and he would be as knowledgeable—perhaps even more so—when he reached his age.

I was feeling so well now that I laughed at my one-time fears.

Joliffe was delighted. “Old Phillips has put you right,” he said, “and it’s wonderful that you are quite well again.”


* * *

But the listlessness came back. It was depressing after I had begun to believe that the doctor’s diagnosis was correct and that I had not yet adjusted myself to life out here.

One afternoon I slept as I had before and awakened to that same horror. Dark shadows were in the room and I knew before I looked what I was going to see. A tenor possessed me. This was real. This was no dream.

I raised my eyes and the horrible numbing fear swept over me for there it was in the open doorway, the hideous evil face, the frightful luminous eyes… and it was watching me.

In a few seconds there was the flash of red and it was gone.

I stumbled off the bed and rushed to the door, open as before but there was no sign of the thing in the corridor.

My nightmare again. And I had thought I was getting better. I tried to think logically.

I had imagined it. Sylvester had mentioned it and what he had told me had become imbedded in my mind to come out in this form when I myself was not well.

I shut the door and turned the key. I was alone in my room.

I looked over my bed. The money sword hung there as Lottie had placed it.

A THOUSAND LANTERNS

I

The truth was brought home to me in a horribly disturbing manner.

The next day when I was drinking my afternoon tea in the sitting room, Jason entered the room.

He looked pleased to see me and came and sat beside me. He was being his protective self. He was very excited because the Feast of the Dragon was drawing near and Joliffe was planning to take us down to the waterfront where we would have a good view of the procession.

He chattered away excitedly and he asked if he could have a cup of my tea.

I poured it out for him and he gulped it down. He had had fish he told me, which was very salty. He drank two cups of the tea.

That night my son was ill.

Lottie came and stood by my bed. She looked fragile and very lovely with her hair falling over her shoulders and her eyes wide and frightened.

“It is Jason. He is calling out strange things…”

I ran as fast as I could to his room and there was my son, his face very pale, his hair damp about his head and his eyes wild.

“He has nightmare,” said Lottie.

I took his hot hand and said: “It’s all right, Jason. I’m here.”

That soothed him. He nodded and lay still.

Joliffe came in.

“I’ll send for the doctor,” he said.

We sat by Jason’s bed—Joliffe on one side, myself on the other.

A terrible fear was with us that Jason was going to die. I was aware of Joliffe’s anguish which matched my own. This was our beloved son and we feared for him.

Jason seemed aware that we were both there. When Joliffe had got up to greet the doctor he stirred uneasily.

“It’s all right, old chap,” said Joliffe, and Jason was relaxed.

Dr. Phillips was reassuring. “Nothing serious,” he said. “Something he has eaten most likely.”

“Could it have this effect?” I asked.

“It could have all sorts of effects. I’ll give him an emetic and if that’s all it is he’ll probably be all right tomorrow—although perhaps a little weak.”

I stayed with him all night—so did Joliffe. He seemed to be comforted while we were there and in a few hours had fallen into a deep sleep.

Strangely enough in the morning there was scarcely any effect of the previous night’s indisposition. He was tired as the doctor had said he would be and I made him stay in bed throughout the day. Joliffe came and they played mah-jongg together.

As I watched their heads bent over the board I was so grateful that Jason was well and that we were together.

But later I began to reason with myself.

What had happened to Jason? Something he had eaten. The doctor’s words kept coming into my mind.

And then suddenly, I remembered. He had come to the sitting room.

He had drunk my tea.

Could it really be that Jason had drunk some poison which had been intended for me?

My son had been in danger and now I had looked this fear right in the face. It had been knocking at the door of my mind for a long time and I had refused to let it in.

Now it was there, and there was no turning away from it.

I had been ill—I who had never been ill in my life before. I had been listless when I had been noted for my vitality; I had had bad dreams, evil dreams, I who had previously been wont to put my head on my pillow and drift into deep and peaceful sleep.

And the reason: Someone was tampering with my food or drink. And when Jason had unexpectedly taken tea which was meant for me he had been ill.

I felt as though a light had suddenly shone in an evil place. But at least I could now see the evil when before I had been groping in the dark.

Someone was trying to poison me.

Who?

No. It couldn’t be! Why should it be? Because if I were dead he would have control of what was mine and held in trust for Jason. Jason was very young; it would be many years before he could control one of the biggest businesses in Hong Kong. But Joliffe could advise me now. Advise. What was the good of that to a man as forceful as he was? I was always there to give the final decision and I had Toby Grantham to back me up. If I were gone and he were sole guardian of Jason, he would have the final word. He would to all intents and purposes be master of Sylvester’s fortune.

I wouldn’t believe it. But what was the use of saying that when the thought had come into my mind?


* * *

The Feast of the Dragon was at hand. There were many dragon feasts. It seemed to me that the people were constantly trying to placate the beast or honor him. This was in his honor.

Jason, completely recovered, chattered excitedly.

“My father is going to take us in a rickshaw. We shall see it all. There are dragons who breathe fire.”

Lottie was pleased we were going to see the procession.

When she was helping me dress she said: “When you go away I go back to Chan Cho Lan.”

“When I go away. What do you mean, Lottie?”

She bowed her head and put on her humble look.

“I think you go away… sometime.”

“What gave you the idea?”