He wondered if he would ever be able to tell Hannah about Mr Kwang, and the favour that the On Leong Tong had done for him. Somehow the thought of having to conceal his complicity in Walter’s death for the rest of his married life seemed to be too complicated to bear. It would be like trying to speak to Hannah with a fishbone in his throat.

He looked across at his cigar case, and considered lighting one up. But then he remembered that Hannah was not his mistress anymore, she was his wife, and she would probably object to stale cigar smoke in the bedroom. He watched her sleeping for a while, and touched her eyelids and the tip of her nose with his finger. She looked older when she was asleep, but still beautiful. He wondered if she was dreaming of the High Sierras.

Kwang Lee had a silent and sometimes mocking manner about him, but in time he became as attached to Collis as Wang-Pu had been and served him as efficiently and as loyally. Unlike Wang-Pu, he did not believe in dressing formally, and his usual get-up was a linen cap with the peak turned backwards, a very clean blue shirt, and a hardware apron with dozens of pockets. He lived in a room at the back of the store, and cooked his own food in a wok, and brewed endless cups of Dragon Well tea.

Sometimes Collis joined him for a small bowl of tung-po pork, or bacon and bamboo-shoot soup, and Kwang Lee would tell stories and jokes about his childhood in Hangchow. But there was no sentimentality about them, as there had been with Wang-Pu. Kwang Lee was a smart cookie, a wisecracker, and it was impossible to tell if any of his stories were true.

Once Collis asked him if Mr Kwang was a man who believed in having favours returned, even favours which hadn’t been asked for.

Kwang Lee was stirring bean sprouts in his wok, and the room was hazy with blue smoke. ‘You mean Mr West?’ he asked directly.

Collis raised his eyebrows. ‘Then it was Mr Kwang?’

‘Of course. You did not suspect it to be anyone else, did you?’

‘I guess not.’

Kwang Lee added shrimps and fish gravy to his lunch, and quickly stirred them in. ‘You have to be on your guard with Mr Kwang,’ he said. ‘He has said himself that there is no finer way of influencing those around you than to do them good turns. Mr Kwang has changed your whole life, has he not, with that one good turn?’

‘Yes,’ said Collis uncertainly.

Kwang Lee looked up from his cooking and grinned. ‘In that case, one day Mr Kwang will expect you to return the compliment.’

Collis picked up a pair of chopsticks and dipped into Kwang Lee’s wok, taking out a sample of bean sprouts and shrimp. He ate it slowly, and then said, ‘More soy sauce.’