Small Cloud was there washing clothes on the river bank at the small fiat place, while farther on the mangrove shoots in their myriads pierced the glassy water. Ah Pak saw and felt the slow blush spread upwards upon her face to the roots of her hair, and the blow in the middle of his chest struck again as she turned and left, and then he heard her cry, a rising wail, as she was caught.

Now and always whenever he came, silent on quiet feet and sudden, walking in and out of the camps of the jungle, there was the face of Sen and the body of Sen to be watched, to be seen without looking. And never was anything to be seen on Sen, nor fear nor resentment, nor suspicion nor anger. Nothing.

Like wisps of the wind flicking, high up in the forest roof among the flowers, an endless soft rain of leaf and petal eddying slowly downwards to the leafmould ground, so seeped rumours and gossip among the circles of the jungle, those open mat-shed camps where the comrades rested, ate, and moved to and from. In this world, too, rumours led an undying parasitic life of their own; here was Ah Mao, another Crystal Gazer, muttering news confused and unproven, and yet as likely as seed to grow, rank, fantastic, indestructible.

These rumours said that Sen was the son of a wealthy man, a millionaire, a traitor, son of Poh Cho-yee, the rubber magnate, the owner of brothels and cinemas and pawnshops and tin mines, secretly secret society man, and that Sen had sworn to do justice and kill his father.

But it was very difficult to kill Poh Cho-yee. Not only did he have a triple wire fence round his house, thick bars at all the windows, the usual Sikh jagas[2] armed with guns sleeping on rope pallets front and back, army-trained Alsatian dogs scurrying round the grounds at night, and a crew of bodyguards and a bullet-proof American car, but he very seldom moved without changing his plans at the last moment to put off intended attacks, and never crossed the Causeway except under heavy guard. It was even impossible to kidnap his sons or grandsons, for the children went to school and returned in a closed car with armed guards and amahs on both sides, human shields should someone shoot through the windows.

Others said no, Sen was the son of Quo Boon, had learnt his English at English school and even gone to England, but all the time had been a member of the Organization, so quiet that the British did not know anything much about him. Quo Boon was a traitor too, collaborating with the British, although not such a traitor as Poh Cho-yee, who had also collaborated with the Japanese.

But now rumour said that Small Cloud was also a traitor, helping the pig-faces, giving information against her own people.