He shouted: Chull! Don’t you have any work? Get away from here. Go!

Slamming his bedroom door, he lay down. He could feel tears prickling behind his eyelids, so he turned and buried his face in his pillow.

The next day Vico reported that the city officials had sent around a notice asking all the foreign factories to seal up their rear entrances. It was a minor matter, yet it was deeply disturbing to Bahram; he could not help wondering whether it was directed specifically at himself. Could it be that he had been seen leaving the Creek Factory by the rear entrance? Or was it maybe that Vico had been spotted that day when …?

Do you think they saw you, Vico? said Bahram. They have spies everywhere, you know. Maybe they were watching when you used the back entrance to bring that fellow here.

Do you mean Allow?

Bas! You know who I mean, Vico! There’s no need to say the name.

Vico looked at him oddly before dropping his gaze: Sorry, patrão, sorry; I won’t say it again.

But Vico too was powerless to silence the echoes of the name.

A few days later he came hurrying up to say: Patrão, Mr King is downstairs. He wants to see you.

Why?

I don’t know, patrão. He didn’t say.

The call was not unprecedented: Charles King had come by several times in the past, soliciting funds for the various charities that he was involved with. On a couple of occasions his conversations with Bahram had strayed in other directions too. Once, noticing the Farohar picture in the daftar, Mr King had asked Bahram about it: this had led to a long conversation about the nature of Good and Evil, and the eternal struggle between Ahura Mazda and Ahriman.

That discussion seemed very distant to Bahram in his present state of mind – yet he could not turn Charles King summarily away from his door: he was known to have good relations with the mandarins and it would not do to antagonize him.

Send him up, Vico.

Bahram spent the next few minutes composing himself, and when the visitor was shown in he was able to greet him with some semblance of his usual heartiness. ‘Ah Charles! A pleasure indeed! Come in, come in!’

‘A very good day to you, Barry.’

Bahram bowed and pointed to an armchair. ‘Please be seated, Charles. Tell me, what can I do for you?’

‘Barry, I’ve come to see you because I am troubled by the present situation in Canton. It seems to me that if things carry on like this then it is not improbable that Great Britain will interfere in China ere long. But for what? For the preservation of the revenue on opium in Bengal; for the protection of an article which it is a shame even to the Chinese pagan to consume.’

‘But the trade has gone on like this for a long time, Charles,’ said Bahram. ‘Surely you do not expect an overnight change?’