‘Go ahead,’ I said, ‘try it.’ Immediately she produced a large key from her pocket, wound up the spring, and put down her duck. It went round and round in wide ecstatic circles, rolling its wheels with tremendous whirrs and whooshes, beating its wings in time together, veering upon the slight bumps on the floor and saying quack, quack, quack.

The duck having adopted our floor, Evangeline signified she would stay, and remained eleven weeks.

Softly Ah Mei came upstairs, happiness upon her face, and took Evangeline’s hand, and called her Little Sister, and seemed to cling to her with love, and said that she would look after her and arrange a space on her sleeping mat for Evangeline.

And then Miss Lee and I went to Singapore, and bought two lengths of cotton for frocks and a pair of red Bata sandals for Evangeline.

Days later two detectives and an official from the Ministry of Information came to see Evangeline. The Information official was an amiable and gay ex-officer of the Chinese Nationalist Army, Jimmy Lo. ‘What a pretty little girl, and so intelligent,’ he said, ‘how I wish she were my daughter.’

When Mrs Pang, the older wife of our young and most brilliant detective, came strolling by on a courtesy visit bringing pomeloes and cigarettes, her weasel small eyes wary and appraising in her slightly pock-marked face; searching Evangeline’s body up and down, obviously clicking figures in her mind as to how she might sell, a virgin; a strange feeling rose among us. In the rapid darkness one could see the S.E.P.s, Ah Mei and Miss Lee, standing mutely about Evangeline, not leaving her alone with Mrs Pang, their wordless presence hostile, a convergent, tangibly solid wall defending Evangeline. Mrs Pang sensed the swift unpleasant feeling ready to turn upon her, and after drinking half a small orange squash and commenting on the price of rubber (which was going down), she left.

Jimmy Lo returned with a camera man, a wire recorder, two aides and a box of chocolates slightly mouldy with heat. His pretty wife was with him. She sat in a corner, gazing at Evangeline. The Information Department had decided to broadcast Evangeline’s story as good propaganda. There were quite a few child bandits about, but not many as intelligent as this little girl.

They sat on the large pink and white Malay mat on the floor and placed the wire recorder on a stool in front of Evangeline and Jimmy held the microphone and began.

‘Now how long were you in the jungle, little girl?’

Already trained by police interrogation, having answered this question many times, Evangeline replied: ‘Two years and four months.’

‘Now tell us,’ said Jimmy, ‘how you came to the jungle.’

‘I went with my mother,’ said Evangeline.

‘What happened to your father?’ asked Jimmy’s sympathetic voice.

And his silent lips framed the answer for lip-reading Evangeline.