Suddenly Bahram remembered witnessing something similar on one of Chi-Mei’s boats: she had always had a great dread of unquiet spirits and hungry ghosts and some trivial incident had led her to summon a priest. Looking out of the window now, Bahram began to wonder whether the men in the Maidan were performing an exorcism. But for whom? And why there – at the very spot where the gibbet had been erected that day?

He reached for the bell cord and tugged it hard, setting off an insistent clanging in the kitchen downstairs.

A few minutes later Vico came running up, wearing a look of concern. Patrão? What’s the matter?

Bahram beckoned to him to come to the window.

Look at those people down there, Vico. See how they’re chanting? And look there – isn’t that some kind of priest, waving his hands and lighting incense?

Maybe, patrão. Who knows?

Isn’t that exactly the place where they had brought that fellow that day?

Vico shrugged and said nothing.

What are they doing down there, Vico? Is it an exorcism?

Vico shrugged again and would not look into his eyes.

What does it mean, Vico? said Bahram insistently. I want to know. Have other people seen what I saw that night, in the fog? Have you heard of anything like that?

Vico sighed and pulled the curtain shut. Listen, patrão, he said, in the kind of tone that men use to soothe children. What is the point of thinking about all this? What good will it do, ha?

You don’t understand, Vico, said Bahram. It would make me feel better if I knew I wasn’t the only one who had seen it – whatever it was that I saw.

Oh patrão, leave it na?

Vico went to Bahram’s bedside table and poured out a stiff measure of laudanum.

Here, patrão; take this, it will make you feel better.

Bahram took the glass from him and drained it at a gulp. All right, Vico, he said, climbing into his bed. You can go now.

With his hand on the doorknob, Vico came to a stop.

Patrão, you can’t let your mind run away with you like this. There are so many who are depending on you, here and in Hindusthan. You must be strong, patrão, for our sake. You can’t let us down; you can’t lose your nerve.

Bahram smiled: a gentle warmth had begun to spread through his body as the laudanum took effect. His fears dissolved and a sense of well-being took hold of him. He could scarcely remember why he had felt so oppressed and frightened just moments before.

Don’t worry, Vico, he said. I am fine. Everything will be all right.

*

The gold in Asha-didi’s teeth glinted as she rose to welcome Neel into her floating eatery.

Nomoshkar Anil-babu! she said, ushering him past the painted portal. You’ve come at a good time. There’s someone here you should meet; someone from Calcutta.

At the far end of the kitchen-boat sat a statuesque form, draped in a shapeless gown: the matronly figure, the bulbous head and the long, flowing locks were so distinctive that there could be no doubt of who it was. Neel came instantly to a halt, but it was too late to attempt an escape. Asha-didi was already performing the introductions: Baboo Nob Kissin, here is the gentleman I was telling you about; the other Bengali Baboo in Canton – Anil Kumar Munshi.