Patrão, he says you used to know him many years ago.

Arré, Vico, there are thousands of Ho Sin-saangs in Canton. How can I remember every one I’ve met? Especially if it was long ago?

Vico shifted his feet uncomfortably: Patrão, he says he was related to Madame …

To Chi-mei? Bahram’s eyes widened in surprise. But I don’t remember that she had any relatives with the surname Ho.

Maybe you knew him by a different name, patrão. These Chinese fellows are always changing their names – one minute it’s Ah-something and next minute it’s Sin-saang this and Sin-saang that.

Did he mention any other name?

Yes, patrão. He said you might remember him as Ah-Lau or Allow or something like that.

Allow? The name stirred a ripple of recollection in Bahram’s memory. Turning his back on Vico he went to the window to look down on the Maidan. As usual, swarms of snot-nosed mosquito-boys were roaming about, in their grey mud-spattered clothes and conical hats, besieging strolling foreigners with cries of: ‘I-say! I-say! Achha! Mo-ro-chaa! Gimme cumshaw lan-tau!’

Suddenly he remembered the face of one such urchin, a waist-high jai with a tripping walk – the fellow who had acted as a messenger for Chi-mei.

Bahram turned back to Vico: I think I remember this fellow Allow. But it must be over twenty years since I last saw him. Where did you come across him?

In the Maidan, patrão. He came up to me and asked if I worked for you. I said yes, so then he said he needed to see you on an urgent matter.

What kind of matter?

Business, patrão.

What kind of business? What does he do?

He does maal-ka-dhanda, patrão – deals in the kind of cargo we need to sell. Middle-level I think; not a wholesaler. Has a couple of dens of his own, and also owns a pleasure-boat.

Bahram had been pacing furiously for the last few minutes but now he came to a sudden stop. A dealer, Vico? he said, his voice rising in anger. You let a dealer into my house?

Between the two of them it had always been understood that no one associated with the lower end of the trade would be allowed to enter their own premises. Business of that kind was taken care of outside the hong, by Vico – and in years past even Vico had rarely had to deal with small-time vendors, den-keepers and the like, since the cargo was usually disposed of offshore, either at Lintin Island or even further out to sea.

Bahram had never once had any dealings with the legions of unsavoury people who were involved in the inner workings of the trade. That someone from that world should seek an interview with him, in his own daftar, was as astonishing to him as the fact that Vico had actually allowed him in.

Vico, have you gone mad? Since when have people like that been permitted to enter this hong?