He still dreamed about the Russian bombardment and the dying sergeant entombed by his side. A rescue party had pulled Tennant out alive, but he’d led battles that left many men in graves far from home. Captain Tennant had followed orders to charge into withering fire, commands issued by aging generals using outdated tactics. Yet Russian aggression and their appetite for neighboring lands had to be checked. The irony wasn’t lost on him: that a soldier of the British Empire should criticize imperial ambition.
Tennant knew that war and empire were messy and imperfect. So was police work. Justice and right were elusive.
“Is everything all right with the doctor?” O’Malley had appeared at his elbow.
“Yes. I’ll find the divisional inspector and hear about thisother girl. You head back to the Yard. See if any reports have come in from Limehouse or the docks about Rawlings.”
“The man is somewhere. ’Tis only a matter of time and boot leather.”
* * *
Divisional Inspector MacNair flicked a bony wrist from behind his scarred oak desk, inviting Tennant to sit. MacNair wore the black garb and sober expression of a Kirk of Scotland preacher. His brow’s pronounced ridge made dark pools of his eyes, and they regarded Tennant gravely. MacNair began his story of a lost Chinese girl, speaking in a soft Scottish burr.
“Aye, it’s strange, but long before we discovered this body, we found another such girl on the streets.”
Tennant asked, “When was this, sir?”
“About ten months ago, and a frigid night it was for any of God’s creatures to be out. My constable spied the wee lass slumped at the walls of the Tower.”
“How was she dressed?”
“In knickers and underskirts,” McNair said. “With a long, hooded cape thrown over it all. Only slippers on her feet. Torn to shreds by the time we found her.”
“She must have come from someplace nearby. Were you able to track her movements?”
“First, we had to find someone who understood the lass. The folk at the London Missionary Society sent a parson who’d been ten years in Hong Kong. Mister Lloyd talked to her in Cantonese, he called it. Who’d have kenned there are dozens of tongues in China.”
“What did she tell him?”
“Brokers shipped her out on a promise of marriage. A Chinaman was waiting to wed her in California, they told her. Instead, she ended up in a London brothel, drugged much of the time. It was how they controlled her and the other lasses in the house.”
“How did she come to rest at the Tower of London?”
“They took her from the brothel to some grand house, a regular arrangement by her telling. On the drive back, her keeper fell asleep, drunk by the sound of it. She slipped out of the carriage and wandered along the riverfront.”
“What steps did you take to locate the brothel and the house?”
“The parson volunteered to accompany us, so we drove Mister Lloyd and the lass along the quayside. But the devils had bundled her in and out in the dark of night with the shades of the carriage drawn. Aye, t’was hopeless.”
“Where is the girl now?”
“Mister Lloyd took her in. He lives with his widowed sister and two nieces, and she looks after the wee bairns.”
“I’d like to speak to him. Perhaps the girl has said something more in the time she’s been with him.”
MacNair scribbled an address and handed it to Tennant. “The London Missionary Society headquarters is on Carteret Street. You’ll find Mister Lloyd there.”
Tennant tucked it away and stood.
“The lass’s name is Jin-Bou,” MacNair said. “And to ken its meaning is to break your heart. In Cantonese, it means ‘Beautiful Treasure.’”
* * *
At the headquarters of the London Missionary Society, the Reverend Mister Owen Lloyd spread his hands. “You find me a prisoner of my desk, Inspector Tennant.”
Mr. Lloyd might have stepped out of the Elgin Marbles frieze in the British Museum. His classically perfect features looked as if some ancient Greek had chiseled them. He’d brushed his hair back in thick, dark waves, and his cobalt eyes were a dramatic contrast to his black brows and lashes. As with so many Welshmen, he had music in his voice. Lloyd spoke in a deep, sonorous baritone.
A world map covered the wall behind Lloyd with the possessions of the British Empire colored in standard pink. Two red-tipped pins marked Ceylon and Hong Kong.
