We were sitting in the kitchen, bright lights pulsating off the white walls, as Holmes methodically assisted our guest in removing enough of his upper garments to allow treatment. He seemed uncomfortable with my presence, so I closed my eyes against the glare.

“Clever of you to get the power on, Holmes.”

“It was simply a matter of locating the mains,” he said. “The power company had not shut it off, just the caretaker.”

“What about the water and gas?”

“I rang both companies from the watch-dog's telephone.”

“Was Miss Grimly reassured to find you were a respectable English gentleman?” I asked.

“She telephoned to Mr Norbert's offices before she would allow me past the threshold; her nephew stood at the ready with a baseball bat.”

“And did she have anything to offer on our intruders?”

A moment of silence served to remind me of our visitor, whose presence I had forgotten. To cover my mistake, I went on. “I took the photograph around Chinatown and must have asked a hundred or more citizens, none of whom recognised the two people. Or said they didn't. Although I had a very fine if somewhat recherché meal in a tiny cellar café haunted entirely by Orientals, and asked them to ring the hotel if they had any information for me.” My brain, slowly subsiding into its proper setting, finally emitted an original idea, and I opened my eyes to squint at Mr Long. “One of the people whom I questioned was this gentleman, who runs a bookshop that sells, among other things, volumes on the Chinese art of feng shui. I trust I am pronouncing it correctly?” I asked. Mr Long nodded fractionally, then stifled a wince at Holmes' ministrations; I continued. “However, he has yet to tell me what he is doing rescuing me from assassins on my doorstep.”

The bookseller stirred. “I have to say, Miss Russell, that your display of English—do they call it ‘phlegm'?—is most impressive. I would have thought most young ladies would display more of a reaction to such an attack. Unless you think, sir, that she is suffering from a concussion?”

Holmes snorted. “Her brain wouldn't dare. No, the only time Russell becomes upset is when those near and dear to her are threatened.”

“Is this—eh!” Long grunted.

“Sorry,” Holmes muttered, and pulled more gently at the shirt.

“Is this common among the English?”

“Russell is not common among anyone. Good, it's merely winged you in passing—no permanent damage, I shouldn't think. Do you suppose there are any bandages in the house, Russell?”

“They would be either in the cabinet in my parents' bath-room, or in the nursery. Do you want me to go?”

“You sit.”