Magistrates of Hell Read Online Free PDF Page A

times not to go about with Erlich, because Ricky could not keep his mouth shut when he’d had a few
shao-chiu
. . . But since Erlich was generally three drinks ahead of Rick, and too stupid to tell horse artillery from a governess cart, I wasn’t worried, even if Rick
had
known anything of military importance, which he didn’t. For God’s sake, Asher, this is China, not France. There’s nothing
to
know out here.’
    He set the cup down, sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his great head bowed.
Like a soldier when the heat of fighting passes out of him
, thought Asher, who knew the sensation well.
When there’s nothing left but cold, weariness and pain
. . .
    At length Hobart said, ‘Thank you. Oh, I know you’ll never find the Chinese who did it, but at least establish that it
was
the Chinese. That it wasn’t Richard who did this – this frightful thing. Do that, and I’ll see to it that you get whatever you need for your own little expedition to look for
shu-jen
. . . and whatever else you need,’ he added, meeting Asher’s eyes significantly. ‘Just clear Richard of this charge. We don’t need to know anything beyond that.’
    ‘For a man who’s lived in China for nearly thirty years,’ objected Lydia as Asher returned from seeing Hobart out of the suite, ‘Mr Hobart doesn’t seem to have made the slightest attempt to learn about the Chinese.’ She dug behind the chair pillows and extracted her silver spectacle-case, unfolded the eyeglasses with her usual deliberation and blinked gratefully up at him, the final reflections of the dying hearth catching in the round lenses. ‘
They’re all in it together
, and
you can’t tell what’s going on in their minds
. . . I’d expect that kind of thing from Mrs Pilley, but not from a Senior Translator who’s been in China thirty years.’
    ‘True, o Best Beloved.’ Asher knelt with poker in hand and made sure that the fire was well and truly out, while Lydia got to her feet and made a circuit of the room switching off lamps. Their house in Oxford was an old-fashioned one, still lit by gas and, in some rooms, by paraffin lamps, though as a result of the journey Lydia had begun planning how electricity could be installed in her workroom. At least gas, Asher reflected, would have kept a parlor this size relatively warm. Away from the hearth it was cold as a tomb, and the bedroom would be ten times worse.
    ‘The odd thing is –’ he stowed the poker in its rack – ‘Hobart
does
know about the Chinese. At least, when I was here fourteen years ago, he read the
Peking Gazette
regularly and had dozens of contacts in the city. And if you’ll notice, he seems to be up on who the local bosses are and who they deal with. Living through the Uprising might have changed him.’ He took a bedroom candle from the little stand beside the door, scratched a match from the box that he always carried in his pocket as Lydia pressed the final switch to plunge the room into darkness. ‘But if it brought about that much of a revulsion against the Chinese, he could have gone home.’
    ‘Perhaps he doesn’t get on with Mrs Hobart?’ Lydia gathered an enormous cashmere shawl from the back of the chesterfield and draped it around her shoulders, something she would have frozen to death rather than do in the presence of anyone but her husband, for fear of appearing less than perfect in her lacy gown. ‘Though I suppose in that case he could have transferred to India. I wonder how much of the Foreign Service is actually based on marital incompatibility? Though it would be very pleasant, I suppose, to have a nice house in England and be able to do as one pleased without having a husband cluttering things up—’
    Asher put a hand over his heart. ‘I shall take up rooms at the College again the moment we get home—’
    Lydia looked startled, then flipped the fringes of the shawl like a whip against his arm. ‘I don’t mean you, silly. Sir Grant doesn’t look like he