Lord Lynche looked across the room at Carina.

“Show him in,” he said curtly.

The footman closed the door behind him.

“Who can it be?” Carina asked wonderingly.

“Perhaps by ‘Lady Lynche’ he means Chi-Yun,” Lord Lynche replied. “It may be a relation who has not heard of her death. Anyway, we had best see him.”

“Of course,” Carina agreed.

Their eyes met and he whispered softly,

“I love you and I cannot believe yet that you really love me.”

She smiled at him, her lips red and warm from his kisses, her eyes so brilliant with happiness that they seemed to shine out of her face.

But there was no time to answer him.

The door had opened again and the footman announced,

“The gentleman to see you, my Lord,”

A little man came into the room and Carina saw at first glance that he was undoubtedly Javanese.

He was wearing his native sarong and over it a cheap black coat of Western make. In his hand he carried a rather battered bowler hat. There was no mistaking the anxiety in his yellow face with its high cheekbones, as he bowed low and very respectfully.

“I would speak with Lord Lynche,” he said in a high sing-song voice.

“I am Lord Lynche!”

The little man looked up and hesitated.

“No,” he said. “You not my Master,”

“I think, then, you must have known my brother,” Lord Lynche replied. “He was in Java at one time, but he is dead,”

The little man bowed as if in respect.

“Can I help you?” Lord Lynche enquired.

The Javanese looked around him for a moment. He seemed to be searching for words.

Then he said,

“I come for my son,”

“Your son?” Lord Lynche questioned.

“My son,” the man repeated. “He named Dipa. He stolen from me by Lady Lynche, who in our country we call Chi-Yun,”

“Stolen? What do you mean, stolen?” Lord Lynche asked sharply. “He was her child, was he not?”

The little man shook his head.

“No, sir,” he said. “You not understand. Child of Chi-Yun and my Master, who we call Mr. Lynche, die. He very sickly baby and heat too much. He die after two years,”

“He died?” Lord Lynche repeated incredulously.

“Yes, yes,” the Javanese said quickly, pleased that someone could understand what he was trying to convey. “Chi-Yun cry very much, then she forget. My Master go away, but other men kind to her – you understand? Only she get ill,”

“What happened then?” Lord Lynche asked.

The little man made a gesture with his hands.

“Chi-Yun ill. Have very little money. And lonely without Master and child. One day she see in newspaper Master become big rich Lord in England. She scream, get very angry,”

Lord Lynche glanced towards Carina, whose eyes were on the little man’s face, watching him as if spellbound.