That night my son was ill.
Lottie came and stood by my bed. She looked fragile and very lovely with her hair falling over her shoulders and her eyes wide and frightened.
“It is Jason. He is calling out strange things…”
I ran as fast as I could to his room and there was my son, his face very pale, his hair damp about his head and his eyes wild.
“He has nightmare,” said Lottie.
I took his hot hand and said: “It’s all right, Jason. I’m here.”
That soothed him. He nodded and lay still.
Joliffe came in.
“I’ll send for the doctor,” he said.
We sat by Jason’s bed—Joliffe on one side, myself on the other.
A terrible fear was with us that Jason was going to die. I was aware of Joliffe’s anguish which matched my own. This was our beloved son and we feared for him.
Jason seemed aware that we were both there. When Joliffe had got up to greet the doctor he stirred uneasily.
“It’s all right, old chap,” said Joliffe, and Jason was relaxed.
Dr. Phillips was reassuring. “Nothing serious,” he said. “Something he has eaten most likely.”
“Could it have this effect?” I asked.
“It could have all sorts of effects. I’ll give him an emetic and if that’s all it is he’ll probably be all right tomorrow—although perhaps a little weak.”
I stayed with him all night—so did Joliffe. He seemed to be comforted while we were there and in a few hours had fallen into a deep sleep.
Strangely enough in the morning there was scarcely any effect of the previous night’s indisposition. He was tired as the doctor had said he would be and I made him stay in bed throughout the day. Joliffe came and they played mah-jongg together.
As I watched their heads bent over the board I was so grateful that Jason was well and that we were together.
But later I began to reason with myself.
What had happened to Jason? Something he had eaten. The doctor’s words kept coming into my mind.
And then suddenly, I remembered. He had come to the sitting room.
He had drunk my tea.
Could it really be that Jason had drunk some poison which had been intended for me?
My son had been in danger and now I had looked this fear right in the face. It had been knocking at the door of my mind for a long time and I had refused to let it in.
Now it was there, and there was no turning away from it.
I had been ill—I who had never been ill in my life before. I had been listless when I had been noted for my vitality; I had had bad dreams, evil dreams, I who had previously been wont to put my head on my pillow and drift into deep and peaceful sleep.
And the reason: Someone was tampering with my food or drink. And when Jason had unexpectedly taken tea which was meant for me he had been ill.
I felt as though a light had suddenly shone in an evil place. But at least I could now see the evil when before I had been groping in the dark.
Someone was trying to poison me.
Who?
No. It couldn’t be! Why should it be? Because if I were dead he would have control of what was mine and held in trust for Jason. Jason was very young; it would be many years before he could control one of the biggest businesses in Hong Kong. But Joliffe could advise me now. Advise. What was the good of that to a man as forceful as he was? I was always there to give the final decision and I had Toby Grantham to back me up. If I were gone and he were sole guardian of Jason, he would have the final word. He would to all intents and purposes be master of Sylvester’s fortune.
I wouldn’t believe it. But what was the use of saying that when the thought had come into my mind?
The Feast of the Dragon was at hand. There were many dragon feasts. It seemed to me that the people were constantly trying to placate the beast or honor him. This was in his honor.
Jason, completely recovered, chattered excitedly.
“My father is going to take us in a rickshaw. We shall see it all. There are dragons who breathe fire.”
Lottie was pleased we were going to see the procession.
When she was helping me dress she said: “When you go away I go back to Chan Cho Lan.”
“When I go away. What do you mean, Lottie?”
She bowed her head and put on her humble look.
“I think you go away… sometime.”
“What gave you the idea?”
“You go to England perhaps.”
“You heard the doctor say that, I suppose.”
“All saying it,” she said.
“I hope you won’t go while I’m here, Lottie.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No leave,” she said.
“Well I’m glad of that,” I said.
“Chan Cho Lan say she may find union for me.”
“You mean marriage?”
She lowered her eyes and giggled.
“Well, Lottie,” I said, “that seems a good idea. Shall you like it?”
“If I have good joss, I like. Not easy to find rich man for me.” She looked sadly down at her feet.
“You mustn’t worry about them, Lottie. Your feet are much more beautiful as they are than they would be cramped and mutilated.”
She shook her head. “No high Chinese lady has peasant’s feet.”
I knew it was hopeless to try to convince her on that point.
She told me that she had been brought up and educated with the high-born ladies. She had helped to bandage their feet with wet bandages and to keep them bandaged until the toes shriveled and dropped off. She told me how the little girls of six used to cry with the pain when the bandages dried and tightened. But in time they walked like the swaying of the willow and good matches were made for them.
“I used to think, Lottie,” I said, “that you would be with me forever. That was selfish of me. Of course you want a life of your own.”
She looked at me with mournful eyes. “Life very sad sometime,” she said.
“Well, we’ll always be friends, won’t we? I shall come and see you when you marry. I shall give presents to your children.”
She giggled but I thought she was a little sad.
“Hard to find husband,” she said. “Only half Chinese and big feet.”
I drew her to me and kissed her.
“You are as one of the family, Lottie dear,” I said. “I think of you as my own daughter.”
“But not daughter,” she said, still sad.
She was merry though when we rode out in rickshaws to see the procession.
Jason sat with me and Joliffe and it was wonderful to see him jumping up and down with excitement. It seemed a long way from the night when I had feared he was going to die.
It was dark—the only time for such processions, for so much depended on the lighting. The sound of gongs mingled with the beat of drums. They sounded a warning note and always seemed ominous to me. There were lanterns, as always on such occasions, and they were of all colors, many of them with revolving figures inside.
Held aloft were flags on which were depicted dragons breathing fire. It was the dragons though which made up the procession. There were small ones and large ones—some held high like banners and others moving along on the ground. These were dragged along by men dressed as dragons and there were some men and women who made up other beasts—several of them to one dragon which appeared to breathe fire and shouted warnings as it trundled along.
The most attractive spectacle was that of two litters which were held high above the dragons and contained a girl apiece—two little creatures so lovely that it would have been difficult to match their beauty. They wore lotus flowers in their long black hair and one had a silk gown of delicate lilac color, the other was in pink.
Lottie called to me from the next rickshaw. “You see… you see.”