River of Smoke - Amitav Ghosh [219]
And speaking of drama, my sweet Puggli-billi, you are certainly well enough acquainted with me to know that I would save the best for the last – and so I have but I must get to it now for Baburao is leaving for the Islands this afternoon and he has promised to make sure that this letter gets to you tomorrow!
You will understand, I am sure, that my memory of what passed between me and Mr Chan is obscured just a little by the fumes of that shared pipe. But I do recall that he told me, as I was leaving, that he is eager to see your plants and has put together a collection that will also be of interest to you. Unfortunately there is very little time, for Mr Chan fears that he may soon have to travel again – and besides, the situation here is so uncertain that no one knows how long the river will remain open. In sum the exchange must be done at once if it is to happen at all.
Since neither you nor Mr Penrose are able to travel to Canton at this time, I fear you have no choice but to trust me to conduct this exchange on your behalf. I suggest you send a set of five or six plants to me with Baburao, and I will undertake to obtain for you the best bargain I can get. I should warn you, however, that I do not know whether I will be able to procure your golden camellias – I did ask Mr Chan whether he had succeeded in obtaining a specimen, but as I recall, he was very evasive about this matter.
In any event, Your Puggliness, you must make haste!
*
Bahram was among the last to enter the boardroom. Mr Wetmore was already in his seat, at the head of the table: his grooming, Bahram noticed, was as fastidious as ever, but his face was lined and weary, and at one end of his mouth an odd little tic had appeared, tugging his lips into spasmodic grimaces.
Bahram went to his usual place and was surprised to see that the chair beside his was still empty. He leant over to Mr Slade and whispered: ‘Where is Dent?’
Mr Slade shrugged. ‘Probably detained by some urgent business – it’s not like him to be late.’
With everyone else present, Mr Wetmore waited for only a minute or two before asking for the doors to be closed. ‘Gentlemen,’ he began, ‘I am sorry Mr Dent is not here yet, but I fear we cannot wait any longer: our time is short and I am sure you are all eager to know the outcome of our recent visit to the Consoo House. I beg your indulgence if I have tried your patience in this regard, but as you will see, certain documents needed to be translated before we could meet. These I will presently circulate, but let me begin by providing you with a brief account of what transpired. On entering the Consoo House we were met by several of our friends from the Co-Hong, among them Mowqua, Punhyqua, Mingqua, Puankhequa and others. They were, I might add, in a state of extraordinary perturbation – something akin to terror. I think Mr King will bear me out on this.’
Charles King was seated at the other end of the table; turning to look at him Bahram saw that his face too was drawn with fatigue. His voice, however, was firm and clear: ‘I have had the misfortune before of looking into the eyes of men who have been seized by mortal fear. I cannot convey to you, gentlemen, how painful it was to see that very look in the eyes of these old friends of ours – friends at whose tables we have supped, friends who have made us rich and to whom we owe the comforts we enjoy.’
These words were still hanging in the air when the door opened to admit Dent.
‘Gentlemen, my apologies – please excuse my tardiness.’
‘You have come in good time, Mr Dent,’ said Mr Wetmore. ‘I am sure you will be interested in the document I am about to read out.’ He picked up a sheet of paper and looked around