‘Yes, Chi-mei have give that-thing.’

‘What-for Mister Barry keepee here? No likee?’

‘Likee. Likee.’

She lost interest in the desk and looked around the room again. ‘What-place Mister Barry sleepee?’ she said. ‘Here bed no have got.’

‘Sleepee bedroom,’ he said, pointing involuntarily. ‘But Chi-mei can-na go.’

Ignoring him she opened the door and crossed the corridor. He followed her into the bedroom, haplessly protesting. She paid him no mind: on seeing the bed, with its silken cover, she lay down and unbuttoned the fastenings of her gown. The sight of her breasts, emerging slowly from within the gown, mesmerized him. He went to lie beside her, but when he reached for her she changed her mind.

‘Mister Barry bed no good. More better go boat. Come now, Mister Barry. We go boat. Come riverside. Ha-loy!’

‘Why?’ he said. ‘Chi-mei here now. More better stay.’

‘No,’ she insisted. ‘Time to go river now. Come, Mister Barry. Here no good.’

He was sorely tempted but something held him back. ‘No. Not time now. Can-na go.’ He reached for her hand. ‘Stay here, Chi-mei; stay with Mister Barry.’

There was no answer and when he looked towards the window, she was gone: the shutters were open and the curtains were fluttering in the breeze.

He woke up in a sweat and found that the window had indeed blown open. He got out of bed and pushed it hurriedly shut.

He was shaking; to go back to bed was impossible in this state. He lit a candle, found his key-ring and carried it into the daftar. He went to his desk and unlocked the drawer: sure enough, the lacquer box that Chi-mei had given him was lying within, covered in dust. He took it out and wiped the dust away before removing the lid. Inside was a finely carved ivory pipe, a metal needle, and a small octagonal box, also made of ivory. The box was empty but Bahram remembered that at the start of the season Vico had brought him a container of prepared opium, as a sample: it was locked in another drawer. He found the key and opened the drawer: the container was still there.

He gathered everything up in his arms and went to his room. He placed the candle on his bedside table, opened the container and scooped up a droplet of the brown paste with the tip of the needle. Then he roasted the opium over the flame, and when it began to sizzle he placed it in the bowl of his pipe and took a deep draught.

When the last wisp of smoke was gone he blew out the candle and lay back against his pillows. He knew he would sleep well that night; he could not understand why he hadn’t thought of doing this before.

The next day when he woke, it was well past the usual time. He could hear the khidmatgars conferring outside his door in hushed, worried voices. Rising quickly from the bed, he hid the pipe, the lacquered box and the container of opium inside one of his trunks. Then, opening the windows, he let the room air out for a couple of minutes before letting the khidmatgars in.