Forbes,
not
Malcolm Styles,
not
George Westrum. She said, feeling her way toward something concrete, “You can’t possibly speak Chinese or—”
“Fluently. Mandarin as well as several dialects.”
“There was that grandmother—”
“Oh yes, that grandmother,” he said with a faint smile.“Born in Kansas City, Missouri, actually, and the closest she’s come to China is Mah-Jongg.”
“What’s more I’ve
disliked
you,” she told him angrily. “I didn’t realize how much until you walked in just now without knocking. Spoiled, sulky, unappreciative—”
“That good, huh?”
Mrs. Pollifax began to laugh. “I see … yes. All right—
very
good, and I’m acting like an idiot.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m sorry.”
His handclasp was firm. “It was a shock for me when I first saw you too,” he conceded politely. “I won’t say where it was, but definitely it was a shock.”
“That bad, huh?” she mimicked, smiling at him. “Then shall we start all over again before getting on with the job?”
“If there
is
a job,” he said quietly. “Look, the suspense has been damn hard to handle, I didn’t see any barbershop at all near the Drum Tower.”
She nodded. “Then I’m delighted to tell you that there was a barbershop and a Guo Musu, too.”
“My God,” he said, staring at her. “Where?”
“Hidden away in that maze of alleys.”
“But were you able to—did he—”
She nodded. “It’s in my purse, excuse me.”
“
What’s
in your purse?”
She reached across him to the bedside table, groped for the atlas and brought it out. “Page thirty-eight,” she said, opening it and handing it to him.
He stared at it in amazement. “Where on earth did you get a Chinese atlas?”
“In the department store this morning,” she told him. “
Quite
by accident. I pointed to what I thought would be a book of poems and they handed me this instead. It was a miracle.”
As he leaned over page thirty-eight Peter’s face was nolonger impassive. “It’s a miracle all right,” he said, and glanced up at her. “Have you looked at this? Guo’s not only marked the location of the labor camp but he’s added notes.”
“Notes?” she echoed, and Guo’s face returned to her again, and that moment of sharing, of knowing. “He did that for us, too?” she said, with a catch in her voice.
“I’ll say!” He showed her the page, excited now. “He’s pinpointed the labor camp halfway between Urumchi, where we go tomorrow, and Turfan—just off the main highroad over the Tian Shan mountains. But what’s even more fantastic, he’s scribbled a footnote explaining the circle he’s drawn, he says it marks a Red Army barracks some six or eight miles from the labor camp.” He looked at her and shook his head. “How did you manage all this? You were missing for only about forty-five minutes this afternoon. I mean, you’re one hell of a surprise.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“No, I mean it,” he told her. “To get all this in minutes from an absolute stranger? Since reaching Xian I’ve been feeling damnably humbled, wondering how on earth I’d have managed it. I wanted to, you know, I insisted on doing it myself but Carstairs refused. This morning I realized I’d have behaved like a bull in a tea shop. Spoken Chinese probably, alarmed Guo Musu thoroughly, even given the whole show away and gotten nowhere. How did you do it?”
“It’s probably why they sent me,” said Mrs. Pollifax modestly. “The Chinese do have a deep respect for their elders, after all, and I tend to look quite harmless.”
He grinned. “That’s for sure—you fooled
me
. And now—” He hesitated, staring down at page thirty-eight. “It’s incredible but I think we’re in business at last. I can even get down to some serious planning now. Amazing.”
She smiled at him. “Good—but did
you
by any chance search my suitcase last night?”
He looked at her blankly. “Search your—why
not
Malcolm Styles,
not
George Westrum. She said, feeling her way toward something concrete, “You can’t possibly speak Chinese or—”
“Fluently. Mandarin as well as several dialects.”
“There was that grandmother—”
“Oh yes, that grandmother,” he said with a faint smile.“Born in Kansas City, Missouri, actually, and the closest she’s come to China is Mah-Jongg.”
“What’s more I’ve
disliked
you,” she told him angrily. “I didn’t realize how much until you walked in just now without knocking. Spoiled, sulky, unappreciative—”
“That good, huh?”
Mrs. Pollifax began to laugh. “I see … yes. All right—
very
good, and I’m acting like an idiot.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m sorry.”
His handclasp was firm. “It was a shock for me when I first saw you too,” he conceded politely. “I won’t say where it was, but definitely it was a shock.”
“That bad, huh?” she mimicked, smiling at him. “Then shall we start all over again before getting on with the job?”
“If there
is
a job,” he said quietly. “Look, the suspense has been damn hard to handle, I didn’t see any barbershop at all near the Drum Tower.”
She nodded. “Then I’m delighted to tell you that there was a barbershop and a Guo Musu, too.”
“My God,” he said, staring at her. “Where?”
“Hidden away in that maze of alleys.”
“But were you able to—did he—”
She nodded. “It’s in my purse, excuse me.”
“
What’s
in your purse?”
She reached across him to the bedside table, groped for the atlas and brought it out. “Page thirty-eight,” she said, opening it and handing it to him.
He stared at it in amazement. “Where on earth did you get a Chinese atlas?”
“In the department store this morning,” she told him. “
Quite
by accident. I pointed to what I thought would be a book of poems and they handed me this instead. It was a miracle.”
As he leaned over page thirty-eight Peter’s face was nolonger impassive. “It’s a miracle all right,” he said, and glanced up at her. “Have you looked at this? Guo’s not only marked the location of the labor camp but he’s added notes.”
“Notes?” she echoed, and Guo’s face returned to her again, and that moment of sharing, of knowing. “He did that for us, too?” she said, with a catch in her voice.
“I’ll say!” He showed her the page, excited now. “He’s pinpointed the labor camp halfway between Urumchi, where we go tomorrow, and Turfan—just off the main highroad over the Tian Shan mountains. But what’s even more fantastic, he’s scribbled a footnote explaining the circle he’s drawn, he says it marks a Red Army barracks some six or eight miles from the labor camp.” He looked at her and shook his head. “How did you manage all this? You were missing for only about forty-five minutes this afternoon. I mean, you’re one hell of a surprise.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“No, I mean it,” he told her. “To get all this in minutes from an absolute stranger? Since reaching Xian I’ve been feeling damnably humbled, wondering how on earth I’d have managed it. I wanted to, you know, I insisted on doing it myself but Carstairs refused. This morning I realized I’d have behaved like a bull in a tea shop. Spoken Chinese probably, alarmed Guo Musu thoroughly, even given the whole show away and gotten nowhere. How did you do it?”
“It’s probably why they sent me,” said Mrs. Pollifax modestly. “The Chinese do have a deep respect for their elders, after all, and I tend to look quite harmless.”
He grinned. “That’s for sure—you fooled
me
. And now—” He hesitated, staring down at page thirty-eight. “It’s incredible but I think we’re in business at last. I can even get down to some serious planning now. Amazing.”
She smiled at him. “Good—but did
you
by any chance search my suitcase last night?”
He looked at her blankly. “Search your—why
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