'Is this how you repay me for makin' you rich? By blackmail?'

'Suppose you tell me more about this bag of onions?'

Grote sighs, twice. 'Yer a bloody ache in the arse, Mr de Z.'

Jacob relishes the inverted compliment and waits.

'Yer know,' the cook begins, 'yer know o' the ginseng bulb?'

'I know ginseng is a commodity much revered by Japanese druggists.'

'A Chinaman in Batavia - quite the gent - ships me a crate on every year's sailin'. All well an' good. Problem is is, the Magistracy taxes the stuff come Auction Day: we was losin' six parts in ten till Dr Marinus one day mentioned a local local ginseng what grows here in the bay but what's not so prized. So . . .' ginseng what grows here in the bay but what's not so prized. So . . .'

'So your man brings in bags of the local local ginseng . . .' ginseng . . .'

'. . . and leaves,' Grote betrays a flash of pride, 'with bags of the Chinese.'

'The guards and friskers at the Land-Gate don't find this odd?'

'They're paid paid not to find it odd. Now, here's my question for you: how's the Chief goin' to act on this? On this an' everythin' else you're snufflin' up? 'Cause this is how Dejima works. Stop all these little not to find it odd. Now, here's my question for you: how's the Chief goin' to act on this? On this an' everythin' else you're snufflin' up? 'Cause this is how Dejima works. Stop all these little perquisites perquisites, eh, an' yer stop Dejima itself - an' don't don't evade me, eh, with your "That is a matter for Mr Vorstenbosch." ' evade me, eh, with your "That is a matter for Mr Vorstenbosch." '

'But it is is a matter for Mr Vorstenbosch.' Jacob lifts the latch. a matter for Mr Vorstenbosch.' Jacob lifts the latch.

'It ain't ain't right.' Grote clamps the latch. 'It right.' Grote clamps the latch. 'It ain't ain't just. One minute it's "Private Trade is killin' the Company"; next it's "I'm not a man to sell my own men short". Yer can't have a cellar full o' wine just. One minute it's "Private Trade is killin' the Company"; next it's "I'm not a man to sell my own men short". Yer can't have a cellar full o' wine and and yer wife drunk legless.' yer wife drunk legless.'

'Keep your dealings honest,' Jacob says, 'and there is no dilemma.'

'Keep my dealings "honest" an' my profits is potato peelin's!'

'It's not I who make the Company's rules, Mr Grote.'

'Aye, but yer do its dirty work 'appily enough, though, don't yer?'

'I follow orders loyally. Now, unless you plan on imprisoning an officer, release this door.'

'Loyalty looks simple,' Grote tells him, 'but it ain't.'

IX.

Clerk de Zoet's Quarters in Tall House

Morning of Sunday the 15th September, 1799 Jacob retrieves the de Zoet Psalter from under the floorboards and kneels in the corner of the room where he prays on his bare knees every night. Placing his nostril over the thin gap between the book's spine and binding, Jacob inhales the damp aroma of the Domburg parsonage. The smell evokes Sundays when the villagers battle January gales up the cobbled high street as far as the church; Easter Sundays, when the sun warmed the pasty backs of boys idling guiltily by the lagoon; autumnal Sundays, when the sexton climbed the church tower to ring the bell through the sea-fog; Sundays of the brief Zeeland summer, when the season's new hats would arrive from the milliners in Middelburg; and one Whitsunday when Jacob voiced to his uncle the thought that just as one man can be Pastor de Zoet of Domburg and and 'Geertje's and my uncle' 'Geertje's and my uncle' and and 'Mother's brother', so God, His Son and the Holy Spirit are an indivisible Trinity. His reward was the one kiss his uncle ever gave him: wordless, respectful and here, on his forehead. 'Mother's brother', so God, His Son and the Holy Spirit are an indivisible Trinity. His reward was the one kiss his uncle ever gave him: wordless, respectful and here, on his forehead.

Let them still be there, prays the homesick traveller, when I go home when I go home.

The Dutch Company professes an allegiance to the Dutch Reformed Church, but makes little provision for its employees' spiritual well-being. On Dejima Chief Vorstenbosch, Deputy van Cleef, Ivo Oost, Grote and Gerritszoon would also claim loyalty to the Dutch Reformed faith, yet no semblance of organised worship would ever be tolerated by the Japanese. Captain Lacy is an Episcopalian; Ponke Ouwehand a Lutheran; and Catholicism is represented by Piet Baert and Con Twomey. The latter has confided to Jacob that he conducts an 'Unholy Mess of a Holy Mass' every Sunday, and is frightened of dying without the ministrations of a priest. Dr Marinus refers to the Supreme Creator in the same tone he uses to discuss Voltaire, Diderot, Herschel and certain Scottish physicians: admiring, but less than worshipful.

To what God, Jacob wonders, would a Japanese midwife pray? would a Japanese midwife pray?

Jacob turns to the ninety-third psalm, known as the 'Storm Psalm'.

The floods have lifted up, O Lord, he reads, the floods have lifted up their voice . . . the floods have lifted up their voice . . .

The Zeelander pictures the Westerscheldt between Vlissingen and Breskens.

. . . the floods lift up their waves. The Lord on high is is mightier than the noise . . . mightier than the noise . . .

The Bible's storms for Jacob, are North Sea storms, where even the sun is drowned.

. . . than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea . . .

Jacob thinks of Anna's hands, her warm hands, her living hands. He fingers the bullet in the cover and turns to the hundred and fiftieth psalm.

Praise him with the sound of the trumpet . . . with the psaltery and harp.

The harpist's slender fingers and sickle-shaped eyes are Miss Aibagawa's.

Praise him with the timbrel and dance. King David's dancer has one burnt cheek.

The sunken-eyed Interpreter Motogi waits under the awning of the Guild and notices Jacob and Hanzaburo only when the invited clerk is directly in front of him. 'Ah! De Zoet-san . . . To summon with little warning causes a great trouble, we fear.' . . . To summon with little warning causes a great trouble, we fear.'

'I'm honoured,' Jacob returns Motogi's bow, 'not troubled, Mr Motogi . . .'

A coolie drops a crate of camphor and earns a kick from a merchant.

'. . . and Mr Vorstenbosch has excused me for the entire morning, if need be.'

Motogi ushers him into the Guild where the men remove their shoes.

Jacob then steps onto the knee-high interior floor and passes into the spacious rear office he has never yet ventured into. Sitting at tables arranged in the manner of a schoolroom are six men: Interpreters Isohachi and Kobayashi of the First Rank; the pox-scarred Interpreter Narazake and the charismatic, shifty Namura of the Second Rank; Goto of the Third Rank, who is to act as scribe, and a thoughtful-eyed man who introduces himself as Maeno, a physician, who thanks Jacob for allowing him to attend, 'so you may cure my sick Dutch'. Hanzaburo sits in the corner and pretends to be attentive. For his part, Kobayashi takes pains to prove that he bears no grudge over the peacock-fan incident, and introduces Jacob as 'Clerk de Zoet of Zeeland, Esquire' and 'Man of Deep Learning.'

The man of deep learning denies this paean and his modesty is applauded.

Motogi explains that in the course of their work the interpreters encounter words whose meanings are unclear, and it is to illuminate these that Jacob has been invited. Dr Marinus often leads these unofficial tutorials, but today he is busy and nominated Clerk de Zoet as his substitute.

Each interpreter has a list of items that evade the Guild's collective understanding. These he reads out, one by one, and Jacob explains as clearly as he can, with examples, gestures and synonyms. The group discusses an appropriate Japanese substitute, sometimes testing it on Jacob, until everyone is satisfied. Straightforward words such as 'parched', 'plenitude' or 'saltpetre' do not detain them long. More abstract items such as 'simile', 'figment' or 'parallax' prove more exacting. Terms without a ready Japanese equivalent, such as 'privacy', 'splenetic' or the verb 'to deserve' cost ten or fifteen minutes, as do phrases requiring specialist knowledge - 'Hanseatic', 'nerve-ending', or 'subjunctive'. Jacob notices that where a Dutch pupil would say, 'I don't understand,' the interpreters lower their eyes, so the teacher cannot merely explicate, but must also gauge his students' true comprehension.

Two hours pass at the speed of one but exhaust Jacob like four, and he is grateful for green tea and a short interval. Hanzaburo slopes away without explanation. During the second half, Narazake asks how 'He has gone to Edo' differs from 'He has been to Edo'; Dr Maeno wants to know when one uses, 'It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg'; and Namura asks for the differences between 'If I see', 'If I saw' and 'Had I but seen'; Jacob is thankful for his tedious hours of schoolboy grammar. The last queries of the morning come from Interpreter Kobayashi. 'Please may Clerk de Zoet explain this word: "Repercussions".'

Jacob suggests, 'A consequence; the result of an action. A repercussion of spending my money is being poor. If I eat too much, one repercussion shall be' - he mimes a swollen belly - 'fat.'

Kobayashi asks about 'in broad daylight'. 'Each word I understand, but meaning of all is unclear. Can we say "I visit good friend Mr Tanaka in broad daylight"? I think no, perhaps . . .'

Jacob mentions the criminal connotations. 'Especially when the miscreant - the bad man, that is - lacks both shame and fear of being caught. "My good friend Mr Motogi was robbed in broad daylight." '

' "Mr Vorstenbosch's teapot," ' asks Kobayashi, ' "was stolen in broad daylight"?'

'A valid example,' agrees Jacob, glad that the Chief isn't present.

The interpreters discuss various Japanese equivalents before agreeing on one.

'Perhaps next word,' continues Kobayashi, 'is simple . . . "Impotent".'

' "Impotent" is the opposite of "potent" or "powerful"; that is, "weak".'

'A lion,' Dr Maeno proposes, 'is strong, but a mouse is impotent.'

Kobayashi nods and studies his list. 'Next is "blithely unaware".'

'A state of ignorance about a misfortune. Whilst one is unaware of it one is "blithe", that is, content. But when one becomes aware, one becomes unhappy.'

'Husband is "blithely unaware",' suggests Hori, 'his wife loves another?'

'Yes, Mr Hori.' Jacob smiles and stretches out his cramped legs.

'Last word,' says Kobayashi, 'is from book of law: "lack of proof positive".'

Before the Dutchman opens his mouth, a grim Constable Kosugi appears at the door; a shaken Hanzaburo is in tow. Kosugi apologises for the intrusion and delivers a stern narrative that, Jacob sees with mounting unease, includes both Hanzaburo and himself. At one key twist, the interpreters gasp in shock and stare at the bewildered Dutchman. The word for 'thief', dorobo dorobo, is used several times. Motogi verifies a detail with the constable and announces, 'Mr de Zoet, Constable Kosugi bring bad news. Thiefs visit Tall House.'

'What?' blurts Jacob. 'But when? How did they break in? Why? Why?'

'Your house interpreter,' confirms Motogi, 'believes "in this hour." '

'What did they steal?' Jacob turns to Hanzaburo, who looks worried about being blamed. 'What is is there to steal?' there to steal?'

The Tall House stairs are less gloomy than usual: the door to Jacob's upstairs apartment was chiselled off its hinges and, once inside, he finds that his sea-chest has suffered the same indignity. The gouged holes on its six sides suggest the burglars were searching for secret compartments. Pained by the sight of his irreplaceable volumes and sketchbooks strewn across the floor, Jacob's first action is to tidy these up. Interpreter Goto helps and asks, 'Are some books taken?'

'I can't be sure,' Jacob replies, 'until they're all gathered up . . .'

. . . but it appears not, and his valuable dictionary is scuffed but untaken.

But I can't check my Psalter, Jacob thinks, until I am left alone. until I am left alone.

There is no sign of this happening soon. As he retrieves his few personal effects, Vorstenbosch, van Cleef and Peter Fischer march up the stairs and now his small room is crowded with more than ten people.

'First my teapot,' declares the Chief, 'now this this fresh scandal.' fresh scandal.'

'We shall strive great efforts,' Kobayashi promises, 'to find thiefs.'

Peter Fischer asks Jacob, 'Where was the house interpreter during the theft?'

Interpreter Motogi puts the question to Hanzaburo who answers sheepishly. 'He go ashore for one hour,' says Motogi, 'to visit very sick mother.'

Fischer snorts derisively. 'I know where I I'd begin my investigations.'

Van Cleef asks, 'What items did the burglars take, Mr de Zoet?'

'Fortunately, my remaining mercury - perhaps the thieves' target - is under treble-lock in Warehouse Eik. My pocket-watch was on my person, as were, thank Heaven, my spectacles, and so, on first inspection, it appears that--'

'In the name of God on high.' Vorstenbosch rounds on Kobayshi. 'Are we not robbed enough by your government during our regular trade without these repeated acts of larceny against our persons and property? Report to the Long Room in one hour, so I may dictate an official letter of complaint to the Magistracy which shall include a full full list of items stolen by the thieves . . .' list of items stolen by the thieves . . .'

'Done.' Con Twomey finishes rehanging the door and lapses into his Irish English. 'Feckin' langers'd need to rip out the feckin' wall, like, to get through that that.'

'Who,' Jacob sweeps up the sawdust, 'is Feck Inlangers?'

The carpenter raps the door-frame. 'I'll fix your sea-chest tomorrow. Good, like new. This was a bad thing - and in broad daylight, too, yes?'

'I still have my limbs.' Jacob is sick with worry about his Psalter.

If the book is gone, he fears, the thieves will think the thieves will think ' 'Blackmail'.

'That's the way.' Twomey wraps his tools in oilcloth. 'Until dinner.'

As the Irishman walks down the stairs, Jacob closes the door and slides the bolt, shifts the bed a few inches . . .

Might Grote have ordered the break-in, he wonders, he wonders, as vengeance for the ginseng bulbs? as vengeance for the ginseng bulbs?

Jacob lifts a floorboard, lies down, and reaches for the sack-wrapped book . . .

His fingertips find the Psalter and he gasps with relief. 'The Lord preserveth all them that love him.' He replaces the floorboard and sits on his bed. He is safe, Ogawa is safe. Then what Then what, he wonders, is wrong? is wrong? Jacob senses he is overlooking something crucial. Jacob senses he is overlooking something crucial. Like when I Like when I know know a ledger is hiding a lie or an error, even when the totals appear to balance . . . a ledger is hiding a lie or an error, even when the totals appear to balance . . .

Hammering starts up across Flag Square. The carpenters are late.

It's concealed in the obvious, Jacob thinks. 'In broad daylight.' 'In broad daylight.' Truth batters him like a hod of bricks: Truth batters him like a hod of bricks: Kobayashi's questions were a coded boast Kobayashi's questions were a coded boast. The break-in was a message. It declares, 'The consequences consequences of crossing me, of which you are of crossing me, of which you are blithely unaware blithely unaware, are being enacted now, in broad daylight in broad daylight. You are impotent impotent to retaliate, for there shall be not a scrap of to retaliate, for there shall be not a scrap of proof positive proof positive.' Kobayashi claimed authorship of the robbery and placed himself above suspicion: how could a burglar be with his victim at the time of the burglary? If Jacob reported the code-words, he would sound delusional.

The broiling day is cooling; its clatter has receded; Jacob feels sick.

He wants revenge, yes, Jacob guesses, but the gloater wants a prize, too but the gloater wants a prize, too.

After the Psalter, what is the most damaging thing to have stolen?

The cooling day is broiling; its clatter condenses; Jacob has a headache.

The newest pages of my latest sketchbook, he realises, under my pillow . . . under my pillow . . .

Trembling, Jacob throws away the pillow, snatches the sketchbook, fumbles with its ties, turns to the last page and cannot breathe: here is the serrated edge of a torn-out sheet. It was filled with the drawings of the face, hands and eyes of Miss Aibagawa, and somewhere nearby, Kobayashi is contemplating these likenesses in malign delight . . . . . .

Shutting his eyes against the picture only increases its clarity.

Make this not true, Jacob prays, but this prayer tends to go unanswered.

The street door opens. Slow footsteps drag themselves up the stairs.