“A thousand thanks for delivering the royal children to me,” Kuan said. “You have performed admirably.”
Despite his extensive network of informants and virtual omniscience, he seemed unaware that I had betrayed Captain Innes and that the man was dead. Nothing in his manner indicated that he suspected me of collaborating with his enemies. I silently thanked God.
“It was my pleasure to serve you,” I said, eager to keep his trust, the better to find a way to escape.
“I regret holding your family hostage,” Kuan said. “It was but a necessary precaution. Before we set sail for China, I will send word to my men to release them. I hope I haven’t caused them any inconvenience.”
He spoke as if imprisoning my family were so trivial that I wouldn’t mind. I swallowed my anger and said, “When do we sail?”
“Tomorrow,” he said, “when the rest of my men arrive. They will bring the gold we need to journey around the world and carry out my plans in China.”
My spirits lifted momentarily, thinking I’d been granted a reprieve; then it dawned that I had but one day to save the children. And how could I, when we were on this ship, so far from shore? If only Slade would find us!
Kuan said, “How are the children?”
“They’re a bit shaken,” I said, “but otherwise unharmed.”
“Very good,” Kuan said. “I need them alive. Your duty is to keep them in good health.”
That answered my question regarding what else he wanted from me. The voyage to China might take as long as a year, depending on the seas, the winds, and the vicissitudes that travelers face. And Kuan’s crewmen were obviously ill qualified to serve as nursemaids.
“Once we get to China, I will issue an ultimatum,” Kuan went on. “Either the British must leave my kingdom, or their Queen’s children will die. The secret arsenal of weapons that I’ve sent to my accomplices in Canton over the years is waiting for me. With the gold that my men are bringing, I will raise an army. I will ban foreigners from China forever and restore Chinese honor.”
Clever though his plan was, I couldn’t share his confidence that he would succeed. Would the Queen surrender to him because he held her children hostage? More likely, she would send the army to rescue them and crush him.
“The emperor will reward me as a hero,” Kuan said. Visions of glory swirled in his eyes, and I realized that he was no longer the genius who had previously laid so many remarkable entrapments. His quest for revenge and power had driven him to near insanity. “I will resume my status as an imperial official. You will live in my estate, where you will want for nothing.”
But I predicted that Kuan and his country would face more war, and suffer even greater defeat and humiliation than before. What then would become of Vicky and Bertie? Would Kuan kill them after they had outlived their usefulness to him? Would they die during a war between England and China? What terrible fate awaited me unless we escaped?
Hitchman and T’ing-nan joined Kuan and me. “Ah, Miss Bronte, here is your former pupil,” Kuan said.
T’ing-nan gave me a baleful look: He was no gladder to renew our acquaintance than was I.
“When China is purged of foreign influence and peace is restored, my son will study for the civil service exam,” Kuan said. “He must work hard to make up for the education he has missed while we’ve been abroad.” He gave T’ing-nan a warning look. “You must practice self-discipline instead of lazing about as you have become accustomed to do.”
T’ing-nan slouched against the railing; a sneer twisted his mouth.
“What’s the matter?” Hitchman said, irritated by the boy’s surliness. “You’ve been longing to go back to China. Aren’t you pleased that you finally are going?”
“We no go China,” T’ing-nan said. “I never get home again.”
“Discontent has become a habit for you,” Kuan rebuked him. “You would rather complain than appreciate your good fortune.”
T’ing-nan pushed himself away from the railing and glared at Kuan. “You think you know everything. But you not as smart as you think.” A cunning, malevolent smile stole across his face. “You a fool to think you can take children to China and drive out British.” He thumped his fist against his chest. “I know better.”
Hitchman’s expression derided him; but the conviction in T’ing-nan’s manner made me wonder if he wasn’t just baiting his father. I saw Kuan narrow his eyes as the same thought struck him. “Why do you say that?” Kuan asked T’ing-nan.
The young man’s eyes glinted with mischief. “You trust her,” he said, pointing at me. “You think she help you. But she no good. She trick you.”
Hitchman and Kuan turned on me. The suspicion I had often seen in Hitchman’s eyes was now reflected in Kuan’s. Dismayed, I looked at T’ing-nan, who grinned. We both knew he’d spoken the truth, but how had he found me out?
“Explain,” Kuan ordered his son.
“The night I run away,” T’ing-nan said, “I hide outside house. I see her come out while you and Nick and Hitchman looking for me. She run off. I follow her.”
Now I remembered my feeling of being watched by someone. It had been T’ing-nan, spying on me. Horror crept into my bones.
“She go to house in village. There she meet man. She tell him all about you.” T’ing-nan regarded his father with triumph. “She not work for you-she work for him. She try help him catch you, punish you.”
He’d seen me with Mr. Slade and overheard us through the open window. Now T’ing-nan’s triumphant smile included me. He had said he would make me pay for refusing to hide him from Kuan. Now he’d fulfilled his threat.
“Is this true, Miss Bronte?” demanded Kuan.
“No!” I cried with all the conviction I could feign. “I don’t know what T’ing-nan is talking about.”
But I instinctively backed away from him, and I could no longer hide my terror. Kuan’s gaze pierced straight through it to the truth. A storm of rage gathered in his eyes. “Who is this man?” His voice was a quiet, menacing hiss.
“There was no man,” I faltered. “I never-”
Hitchman seized me by my shoulders. “Who is he?”
His fingers dug painfully into my flesh. His face was so close to mine that I could see the sharp edges of his teeth and smell his sulfurous breath. I shrank from him.
“Answer me!” Hitchman struck my cheek a hard slap.
My head snapped backward. Pain reverberated through my skull. My ears rang; the lights on the deck shattered into bright fragments. I had never been struck with such deliberate, calculated violence. The blow was as shocking and intimate as it was hurtful. It diminished me to a puny, hapless creature. How I wish I could have insisted on my innocence and persuaded Kuan that his son was lying! But my cowardly impulse was to obey Hitchman and avoid another blow.
“His name is John Slade,” I said even as shame filled me. “He’s an agent with the Foreign Office.”
“A spy for the Crown.” Hitchman spoke to Kuan in a tone of revelation and disgust while tightening his hold on me. “I warned you against taking Miss Bronte on. I never quite trusted her myself. But I never suspected that she had such dangerous connections.” He regarded me with amazement. “Well, well-the demure little governess has turned out to be a spy for a spy.”
The rage in Kuan’s eyes turned murderous. His mouth thinned; his nostrils flared. Behind him the Chinese crew was watching, avid to see how he would punish me. T’ing-nan was grinning with childlike joy at my plight. So spiteful was he that he didn’t care that he had jeopardized his own hope of returning to China by not telling his father about me sooner.
“When did you and this agent Slade join forces against me, Miss Bronte?” Kuan asked.
I hesitated, but Hitchman raised his fist to strike me again. Cringing, I blurted, “It was after your henchman stole Isabel White’s book from my home and almost killed my brother.”
“A man purporting to be your cousin accompanied you to Belgium,” Kuan said. “Was he in fact Mr. Slade?”