Sonny Maria bowled. The ball danced from his hand in a dizzying spiral. Horace thought he heard it singing “Chica Chica Boom Chic.” But Horace had studied every bowl there was, and Sonny Maria’s bowl, though perfectly executed, was not entirely original, though he had put such a powerful spin on it that it drifted unpredictably in the air, first a little to the right, then a little to the left, then unexpectedly up, then suddenly down and a little to the left at the same time, all within the space of a thousandth of a second. Horace’s eye, though not as fast as it had been at twenty-two, was still pretty fast. He followed the ball’s every twist and turn, its every rhyme and reason. The ball danced a clever dance, a little merengue, a little bossa nova, but it couldn’t quite escape the brunt of Horace’s bat. He hit it hard, but not squarely. It flew off in a direction he hadn’t expected, behind him to the right, into third-man space. Two fielders—astronomer Graham Heywood and Red Hilda Selwyn-Clarke—both took off after it. Though they were both excellent in their own professions, they were amateur cricketers, and clumsy. They slammed into each other and both blacked out for a second. A third fielder, that young fool Selby Hancock, ran in, snatched up the ball, and hurled it to the wicket keeper, second in command at the Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corporation, Charles Hyde. Ball in hand, Hyde knocked over the wicket, but Horace was already safe at the crease. While the fielders retrieved the ball, Horace and Tanaka scored four runs for the Japanese team. They could have got six, but it was more important to stay in play.

Sonny Maria bowled again. His spin was fantastic. The ball drifted and danced, seemed actually to speed up and slow down along an arc of such astonishing irregularity that Horace was mesmerized and almost forgot to swing. But he was an old pro, and instinct kicked in. He swung the bat and the ball flew up, high over the stands and right over Des Voeux Road. It sailed so straight that it looked like it would smack the Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corporation right in the crack between the left and right sides of the double door, albeit at an interesting angle. Just at that the point, a debtor, going in to pay what he owed at Governor Isogai’s order on pain of death pushed both door panels open. The ball sailed into the bank and bopped Teller Number 7 in the forehead.

From the British team, Alfred Steele-Perkins and Mimi Lau, subjects of an embarrassing romantic scandal before the war, chased after it. But the ball was well over the boundary, so Tanaka and Horace had their six runs. They did a few steps of the lindy hop while Steele-Perkins and Lau scrambled.