Captain Elliott scratched his chin. ‘Perhaps two years. Maybe three.’

‘Two or three years!’

Bahram remembered the angry letters that had been accumulating in his office; he tried to think of how he would explain the circumstances to his investors; he thought of the reactions of his brothers-in-law when the news reached them; he could almost hear them exulting, in their discreet way; he could imagine what they would say to Shireenbai: We warned you; he’s a speculator, you shouldn’t have let him squander your inheritance …

‘Surely your investors would wait, Mr Moddie, would they not?’ Burnham insisted. ‘It is just a question of a little time after all.’

Time!

Every man in the room was looking in Bahram’s direction now. He was too proud to tell them that time was the one thing he did not have; that a delay of two years would mean certain default; that for him the results of Captain Elliott’s betrayal would be ruin, bankruptcy and debtor’s prison.

None of this could be said, not here, not now. Somehow Bahram managed to summon a smile. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course. My investors will wait.’

The heads nodded and turned away. Once freed of their scrutiny Bahram tried to sit still, but it was impossible – his limbs would not obey him. Gathering the skirts of his angarkha together, he slipped noiselessly out of the library. With his head down he walked blindly through the Consulate’s corridors and out of the compound. He passed the Co-Hong merchants without sparing them a glance and was halfway across the Maidan when he heard Zadig’s voice behind him: Bahram-bhai! Bahram-bhai!

He stopped. Yes, Zadig Bey?

Bahram-bhai, said Zadig breathlessly. Is it true that Captain Elliott has asked everyone to surrender their opium?

Yes.

And they have agreed to do it?

Yes. They have.

So what will you do, Bahram-bhai?

What can I do, Zadig Bey? Tears had come to his eyes now, and he brushed them away. I will surrender my cargo, like everyone else.

Zadig took hold of his arm and they began to walk towards the river.

It is only money, Bahram-bhai. Soon you will recover your losses.

The money is the least of it, Zadig Bey.

What is it then?

Bahram could not speak; he had to stop and choke back a sob.

Zadig Bey, he said in a whisper, I gave my soul to Ahriman … and it was all for nothing. Nothing.

*

‘Ah Neel! Ah Neel!’

Neel was crossing the Maidan when Young Tom called out to him from the linkisters’ tent: ‘Ah Neel, have got message for you, from Compton. He say tomorrow you come Old China Street, at noon. He meet there.’

‘At the barricade?’

‘Yes. At barricade.’

‘All right.’

The next day, at the appointed time, Neel made his way to Old China Street. The barricade at the far end was a formidable-looking affair, and looked all the more so because the street was deserted and all the shops were shut: it was made of sharpened bamboo staves and the soldiers who were deployed around it were armed with matchlocks and cutlasses.