“Tell him that Rowly didn’t kill anybody.”
To that, Du Yuesheng did not react. He spoke again.
“He knows that Mr. Sinclair refused to do business with the Japanese.”
Milton was startled. How would the gangster know that? Why would he raise it?
“Master Du wishes to know if Mr. Sinclair will change his mind.”
Milton shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”
Du Yuesheng studied the poet before he replied. His eyes were calculating and cold and there was something vaguely chilling about his tone.
“Master Du says he will help Mr. Sinclair.”
Suddenly Milton was unsure. Du Yuesheng was a gangster, a murderer. Had he just procured a kind of help that Rowland himself would never countenance? Was he compromising Rowland in his desperation to help him? “Ask him what he plans to do, Mr. Wing?”
Wing’s eyes widened and he swallowed, but he translated the question.
Du seemed amused.
“Master Du says he will send his lawyers to the British Court to have Mr. Sinclair bailed immediately.”
“Tell him that’s already been attempted.”
“He says, it has not. Zongshi says the bond is likely to be substantial.”
Milton nodded. “Rowland will be able to repay him in full as soon as he’s released.”
Du waved the promise away.
“Would you ask him what he wants in return for his help?” Milton ventured.
Wing licked his lips nervously and asked the question.
Du’s response was short.
“Master Du says he requires nothing.”
“Why?” Milton said before he could reign in his surprise. The question did not apparently require translation.
The gangster smiled as he stated his reason. “Du Yuesheng is Chinese.”
Edna reached the door before the shuffling amah. The old woman glared at her with such baleful ferocity that the sculptress wished she’d not responded to the knock. She opened the door.
“Mr. Carmel!” Relief and joy followed surprise in quick succession. “Oh Mr. Carmel, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you.”
“Not a moment too soon, I gather!” Carmel kissed her on each cheek. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I feel wretched, truly wretched! To be away when Rowland truly needed me… I don’t know if Wilfred will ever forgive me! If I’d had the slightest inkling—”
“Well, you’re here now, Mr. Carmel.”
“Yes, indeed I am. The office tells me that young Murray was given the case file in my absence but it seems he was a little out of his depth. This has been rather a cock-up I’m afraid. Fetch your coat, my dear—you can tell me exactly what happened on the way to the courthouse.”
“Clyde…”
“By all means bring Mr. Watson Jones, Mr. Isaacs too. I daresay Rowland will need his friends about him after what he’s been through.”
“Milt and Mr. Wing stepped out this morning. I’ll just call Clyde and let Harjeet know where we’re going.” She stopped to smile at the solicitor. “I’m just so glad to see you, Mr. Carmel. Do you think we could possibly have Rowly back today?”
“You just leave it to me, my dear. I shall insist upon it! I shall invoke Blackstone, Coke and Locke, issue a writ of habeas corpus and remind them of who Rowland Sinclair is. By the time I am done, they will not only release our beloved friend, but they will apologise!”
34
VALUE OF BATHS AND POULTICES
Poulticing is simply putting a hot bath on a particular spot, with the idea of soothing pain or inflammation by the local applications of warmth and moisture. The poultice may be made of various materials: bread or starch or rice flour, or bran, or linseed meal. It should always be applied as hot as it can be borne, and should be frequently changed, no poultice being of any value after two or three hours. The surface of the skin is often vaselined before the application is made. The poultice should be larger than the area to be covered, and so that the heat may be retained, it should be spread thick on a piece of linen, of which the edges have been turned in a little way on each side to prevent any portion escaping. A layer of cotton wool under oiled silk, should cover the poultice, and a broad flannel bandage to keep it well on. In applying a poultice to the chest the nipples should not be covered over if possible…
The Courier Mail, 31 August 1935
When Gilbert Carmel of Carmel and Smith arrived at the British Court there was some confusion. It seemed that lawyers claiming to represent Rowland Sinclair had arrived as the courts opened to demand his release on bail. Carmel was outraged. “I am Mr. Sinclair’s legal representative. Why, this is preposterous—they are kidnappers no doubt. The hide of them—to snatch the poor fellow from Ward Road Gaol itself!”
It was not until Milton and Wing emerged that it became clear that there was no elaborate plot to abduct Rowland. Carmel remained somewhat affronted that Milton had seen fit to replace him. The poet apologised. “We could not reach you, Mr. Carmel, and we’ve never laid eyes on Mr. Murray. You must understand, we were getting desperate.”
“Yes, of course. The timing was very unfortunate, but I’m here now.”
“I’m sure Mr. Soo will be happy for you to take over.”
Edward Soo shrugged. “Bail has been granted,” he said, unruffled. He nodded at Milton. “Please convey my regards, and those of Master Du to Mr. Sinclair.”
Milton thanked him and for a moment they all watched as Du Yuesheng’s lawyer departed with two junior solicitors trailing behind him.
“What did you do?” Clyde turned on Milton.
“It doesn’t matter what I did,” the poet replied firmly. “Rowly’s been bailed. We can pick him up from Ward Road.”
“What did you promise Du in return for his help?”
“Nothing. He wanted nothing.”
“I’m not sure enlisting the help of a man with Mr. Du’s reputation was wise, Mr. Isaacs.”
“We couldn’t reach you, Mr. Carmel,” Milton reminded him.
Carmel sighed. “Indeed, the fault is mine. Forgive me.”
Edna interrupted. “Can we please just get Rowly?”
Carmel nodded, smiling suddenly. “Yes, we should be there to collect the dear boy and celebrate this first victory. To the automobiles, my young friends!”
Shortly thereafter, Singh’s Buick and Carmel’s Packard drew up and parked outside the release gate of Ward Road Gaol. Unable to contain their impatience, the Australians climbed out and stood by the massive wooden gates. There was a small door in the gates through which, Carmel had informed them, Rowland would be allowed out.
Several minutes passed.
Clyde and Milton returned to the Packard to discuss the delay with Carmel through the window. “Could something have gone wrong, Mr. Carmel?”
“Perhaps Mr. Soo did not file the application properly.” Carmel frowned. “Still… it all seemed in order when I spoke to the clerk.” He checked his pocket watch. “Releases are generally quite punctual affairs.”
“Could Randolph have—bloody hell!” Clyde broke off as the door finally opened and three men emerged.
Two were Sikh guards. They supported Rowland between them.
“Rowly!” Edna reached him first. “My God, what have they done to you?”
Rowland was damp and hot to touch.
The naiks did not relinquish him until Clyde and Milton’s shoulders had taken the place of their own. Clearly Rowland could not stand unaided.
“Good grief, comrade, you’re burning up,” Milton said.
Ranjit Singh stepped out of the Buick and spoke to the guards in Punjabi. Carmel too left his vehicle to assess the state of Rowland Sinclair. The lawyer was furious. “You tell Mr. Whitely that I will not let this lie!” he bellowed at the guards.
Rowland attempted to talk but he was shivering too violently to make himself understood.
Edna reached up to touch his face. She tried to speak but horror stole her words.
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“Put him in the motorcar,” Singh said. “I’ll take him straight to hospital.”
Carmel shook his head. “No, absolutely not. Hospitals in Shanghai are no more than reception rooms for mortuaries. I would not let one of their doctors treat my dog! Let us not have retrieved the dear boy only to hand him into a different kind of danger. Take Rowland home. I’ll meet you there with a doctor.”
Harjeet took charge the moment they returned with Rowland, pausing only a moment in her distress at the state of him.
“He has a fever,” she said, testing his forehead. “It’s no wonder in that filthy place.” She instructed Milton and Clyde to draw him a bath of tepid water and to take his clothes for Ranjit to burn. She told Wing to listen for Carmel and the doctor while she pounded herbs for a poultice and sent Edna to find Rowland’s pyjamas and fetch extra pillows.
Taking comfort in her maternal practicality, they did as they were told.
Rowland, for his part, was ill enough to be thoughtlessly compliant. He barely registered the fuss around him. “I’m all right,” he said when he realised how worried they were. “I’ve just caught some kind of chill.” He was thankful to wash the grime and decay of the prison cell from his body, to put on his own clothes and to lie on clean sheets in a bed. He didn’t notice the shock and fury of his friends when the welts and bruises left by the batons were revealed. His mind wandered to the men with whom he’d briefly shared a cell, but he couldn’t hold the thought.
He felt Edna’s hand stroking the hair away from his face, and he breathed the soft scent of her rose perfume. Milton told him something about Du Yuesheng and Clyde asked him about the livid bruise on his neck.
“Must have happened when they hanged me… I think the rope snagged on one of the bodies for a while…”
Clyde glanced anxiously at his watch, concerned by the delirium.
Harjeet brought in a fragrant spiced tea made of roasted coriander seeds. She called it “Kothamalli” and insisted Rowland drink, if only a couple of sips. He gagged on the first mouthful but Harjeet persisted and he kept down the second. It was hot and honey-sweet, brewed with ginger. It soothed his throat and he thought he felt better.
Gilbert Carmel arrived with a Frenchman he introduced as Dr. Henri Le Fevre. The physician chased them out of the room so he could examine his patient in private. They took Carmel into the cavernous drawing room. Milton poured the lawyer a drink. Carmel drank deeply and looked so utterly dejected that Edna moved to sit beside him on the settee.
“You mustn’t blame yourself. You weren’t to know that Rowly would be arrested.”
Carmel patted her hand. “You must not worry about me, my dear. Not when Rowland is lying on what might be his death bed.”
“Death bed?” Edna pulled back, shocked.
“Did I say death bed? I meant sick bed… It’s been a difficult day. Forgive me, my dear. I’m a little weary, that’s all.”
When Dr. Le Fevre emerged he was sombre. “I suspect Monsieur Sinclair has contracted pulmonary tuberculosis at Ward Road.”
Edna gasped. Tuberculosis could be as much a life sentence as any the courts of Shanghai could hand down.
Carmel sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
Milton stood. “Tuberculosis? Are you sure?”
“Mr. Sinclair has a very high fever, he complains of chest pain and is coughing blood.”
“I didn’t notice any blood.”
Le Fevre’s response was not without compassion. “It was evident in my thorough examination. I am quite certain of my diagnosis.”
“We have to take him home.” Edna’s voice was unsteady.
“I’m afraid Monsieur Sinclair cannot travel now,” Le Fevre said gravely.
“Even if he were well enough, he cannot leave Shanghai,” Carmel added gently. He hesitated and then went on. “I think it’s only fair to warn you that Chief Inspector Randolph is already taking action to have Rowland’s bail revoked. Apparently Rowland assaulted a warder while he was incarcerated.”
“They can’t do that—not when he’s so ill!” Edna was close to tears now.
“Ward Road Gaol is equipped with an infirmary,” Le Fevre advised.
“I’ll bet,” Milton replied bitterly.
Carmel took a deep breath and lifted his chin. “Rest assured, my friends, Inspector Randolph will not be unopposed. I shall meet him on every legal battlefield, but…”
“But what?” Milton demanded.
Carmel shook his head. “It would be easier if Rowland had friends of influence.”
“Wilfred’s contacts—”
“Have been alienated by this business with the Japanese.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Edna stood to leave.
“Where are you going, Ed?”
“To see Rowly.”
Le Fevre shook his head firmly. “No, Mademoiselle Higgins. Mr. Sinclair has pulmonary tuberculosis, a highly contagious disease. We must move him to a private chest hospital as soon as it can be arranged.”
“I’ll need to speak with him,” Carmel objected. “To take instructions, for what it’s worth.”
Le Fevre was unhappy with the notion. “You do so at your own risk, Monsieur Carmel.”
Carmel waved away the physician’s warnings. “It would be a small price if I can compensate for letting the poor boy down.” He rubbed his face. “Dr. Le Fevre, would you be so kind as to make arrangements for Rowland to be admitted to a private sanatorium; spare no expense—I will cover it personally.”
“Steady on,” Clyde interrupted. “Is moving him necessary?”
“I assure you, Mr. Watson Jones, he will get the very best of care.”
“Does Rowly know that he has tuberculosis?”
“Not yet.”
Carmel rose. “I’ll tell him,” he said grimly. “I can speak to him about his defence, reassure him and apologise.”
“We’ll come with you,” Edna said. Clyde and Milton stood hastily.
“If you are all going to ignore my advice and risk infection,” Le Fevre made no attempt to mask his irritation, “then I must insist you visit one at a time. Do not get too close and leave the window open. But let me warn you that Monsieur Sinclair is fevered and not at all lucid.”
Carmel rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, noted. If you’ll make the necessary arrangements with the sanatorium, Dr. Le Fevre, I must speak with my client!”
Gilbert Carmel went into the sick room first. When he emerged twenty minutes later he was visibly distraught. He grabbed Edna’s hands. “Oh my dear, our friend is more unwell than I expected—quite affected by delirium and I suspect anxiety over the case against him. He is justifiably angry with me—refuses to believe he’s ill. I fear I’ve lost his confidence. He seems to believe that there are conspiracies against him.”
“That doesn’t sound like Rowly,” Edna replied. “It’s only the fever speaking, Mr. Carmel.”
“I don’t want you to be upset if he says anything harsh, dear girl.”
“Harsh?”
“He seems to believe that you enticed that poor fellow Middleton to follow you to China in order to make him jealous, that Mr. Watson Jones stole his car and that Mr. Isaacs is a card cheat.”
Edna stepped back shocked, hurt. “Rowly said that?”
Carmel’s face softened. “Oh my, now I’ve upset you. It’s nonsense of course… a passing madness he will not remember tomorrow.”
Le Fevre shook his head. “I did warn you, Monsieur Carmel. Monsieur Sinclair is not in his correct senses. The medication I have administered can have the unfortunate side effect of inducing paranoia and aggression.” He checked his pocket watch. “God willing, the sedative will begin to take effect soon and he will cease to be so needlessly anxious.”
Edna nodded tightly. “I promise I won’t take any notice of what he says.”
The sculptress set her shoulders and let herself into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She ignored Le Fevre’s advice, sat on the bed and took Ro
wland’s hand. It was warm, his eyes seemed a very bright blue. “Rowly, how are you, darling?”
He turned away to cough. “Ed—thank goodness. Tell those idiots I’ve just got a cold,” he said hoarsely.
She smiled at him, pressing his hand to her cheek. “Dr. Le Fevre’s taking you to a hospital where you can get proper care.”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure he’s a doctor, Ed.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He seems to think I have tuberculosis for one thing!”
“Oh Rowly, you just have to do what he says and get well. Mr. Carmel will take care of Inspector Randolph—you’re not to worry.”
Agitated, Rowland tried sit up. “No, don’t trust him!”
She kept a firm hold of his hand. “Mr. Carmel will keep Inspector Randolph in check, Rowly.”
“Not Randolph—” The effort of sitting up started him coughing again.
Edna held him. “Rowly, the medication is muddling your thoughts. You must try to stay calm.”
Le Fevre opened the door. “I thought I told you not to get too close to him,” he said, frustrated. “Are you trying to get infected, Miss Higgins?”
The spasm of coughing took Rowland’s ability to speak. Edna ignored the doctor as she rubbed Rowland’s back and spoke soothingly. “You just get well, Rowly. Leave everything else to us.”
“Mademoiselle Higgins.” Le Fevre held open the door. “For your own sake, you must leave.”
“Let me settle him first,” she said defiantly. “When he’s resting quietly, I’ll leave.”
Le Fevre exhaled, exasperated. “You are taking a dreadful risk, Mademoiselle Higgins!” He stalked out, slamming the door.
When the doctor entered the drawing room, Milton and Clyde were discussing the necessity of a sanatorium with Carmel.
“Absolutely, it is necessary, gentlemen,” Le Fevre said. “I know you wish to stay with your friend, but I want only to save Monsieur Sinclair’s life. He is gravely ill. And he is contagious. He cannot be left here.”
“Having Rowland confined to a sanatorium will be a significant argument against the revocation of bail,” Carmel added. “At all costs, my friends, we must avoid Rowland being returned to Ward Road Gaol.”
All the Tears in China Page 29
