To seal the matter, Mr Slade proceeded to recite a passage from an Imperial memorandum – one that could always be trusted to raise a laugh in the Club: ‘Inquiries have served to show that the foreigners, if deprived for several days of the tea and rhubarb of China, are afflicted with dimness of sight and constipation of the bowels, to such a degree that life is endangered …’

When the laughter had died down, Mr Burnham wiped his eyes and declared: ‘There is no denying it. Lord Napier had the measure of it when he said the Chinese are a race remarkable for their imbecility.’

At this Mr King, who had been stirring uneasily in his seat for a while, was moved to protest: ‘Why sir, I do not believe that Lord Napier could possibly have expressed so uncharitable a sentiment: he was after all a pious Christian.’

‘Let me remind you, Charles,’ said Mr Burnham, ‘that Lord Napier was also a scientist, and when his faculties of reason led him to an irrefutable conclusion, he was not the man to dissimulate.’

‘Exactly, sir,’ said Mr King. ‘Lord Napier was not only a good Christian, but also one of the most distinguished sons of the Scottish Enlightenment. I cannot believe he would express such a sentiment.’

‘Very well then,’ said Mr Burnham. ‘Let us have a wager.’

The Club’s betting-book was immediately sent for and a sum of ten guineas was entered into its columns. Then Lord Napier’s book on his experiences in China was fetched from the library and the passage was quickly found: ‘It has pleased Providence to assign to the Chinese – a people characterized by a marvellous degree of imbecility, avarice, conceit, and obstinacy – the possession of a vast portion of the most desirable parts of the earth and a population estimated as amounting to nearly a third of the whole human race.’

Since the wording was not exactly as stipulated, it fell to the President to settle the wager. He adjudicated in favour of Mr Burnham, who then proceeded to earn himself much credit by donating his winnings to Reverend Parker’s hospital.

Even though the evening ended on a light-hearted note, the rumours surrounding the Commissioner’s arrival had the cumulative effect of disrupting the normal functioning of the Chamber and creating an atmosphere of expectation and anxiety. It was against this background that Mr Wetmore hosted a small dinner to thank the outgoing President, Mr Hugh Lindsay, for his services.

The rubicund and high-spirited Mr Lindsay was observed to be uncharacteristically pensive through the meal, and when he rose to make his farewell address it became clear that he was in an unquiet frame of mind. At the end of the meal, after the vote of thanks had been proposed, he rose to offer a few thoughts: ‘That the trade in opium has hitherto held out great and profitable inducement, sufficient to warrant almost any risk, must be admitted. But it must be borne in mind also that the trade has hitherto been allowed, or connived at, by the Chinese authorities. It may be doubted however whether this is likely to be the case for the future. What then is the alternative? Either the trade must be given up altogether, or some mode adopted for carrying it on independent of Chinese interference. Let us be honest: the first of these propositions – of giving up the opium trade – will not be adopted while any other possibility remains open. So there is only one plain and obvious alternative. It is the formation of a settlement under British rule on the coast of China.’