'Domenico Scarlatti, is it? He has has flown a long way to be here.' flown a long way to be here.'

Marinus's indifference, Jacob suspects, is too airy to be genuine.

'He shall fly a long way back.' He turns. 'I incommode you no longer.'

'Oh, wait, Domburger: sulking doesn't suit you. Miss Aibagawa--'

'- is no courtesan: I know know. I don't view view her in that light.' Jacob would tell Marinus about Anna, but he doesn't trust the doctor enough to unlock his heart. her in that light.' Jacob would tell Marinus about Anna, but he doesn't trust the doctor enough to unlock his heart.

'Then in what light,' Marinus probes, 'do you see her?' you see her?'

'As a . . .' Jacob searches for the right metaphor '. . . as a book whose cover fascinates, and in whose pages I desire to look, a little. Nothing more.'

A draught nudges open the creaking door of the two-bed Sick Room.

'Then I propose the following bargain: return here by three o'clock and you may have twenty minutes in the Sick Room to peruse what pages Miss Aibagawa cares to show you - but the door remains open throughout remains open throughout, and should you treat her with one dram dram less respect than you would your own sister, Domburger, my vengeance shall be Biblical.' less respect than you would your own sister, Domburger, my vengeance shall be Biblical.'

'Thirty seconds per sonata hardly represents good value.'

'Then you and your sometime gift know where the door is.'

'No bargain. Good day.' Jacob leaves and blinks in the steepening sunlight.

He walks down Long Street to Garden House and waits in its shade.

The cicadas' songs are fierce and primal on this hot morning.

Over by the pine trees, Twomey and Ouwehand are laughing.

But dear Jesus in Heaven, thinks Jacob, I am lonely in this place. I am lonely in this place.

Eelattu is not sent after him. Jacob returns to the Hospital.

'We have a deal, then.' Marinus's shave is finished. 'But my seminarian's spy must be blind-sided. My lecture this afternoon is on Human Respiration, which I intend to illustrate via a practical demonstration. I'll have Vorstenbosch loan you as a demonstrator.'

Jacob finds himself saying, 'Agreed . . .'

'Congratulations.' Marinus wipes his hands. 'Maestro Scarlatti, if I may?'

'. . . but your fee is payable upon delivery.'

'Oh? My word as a gentleman is not enough?'

'Until a quarter to three, then, Doctor.'

Fischer and Ouwehand fall silent as Jacob enters the Records Office.

'Pleasant and cool,' says the newcomer, 'in here, at least.'

'I,' Ouwehand declares to Fischer, 'find it heated and oppressive.'

Fischer snorts like a horse and retires to his desk: the highest one.

Jacob puts on his glasses at the shelf housing the current decade's ledgers.

He returned the 1793 to 1798 accounts yesterday; now they are missing.

Jacob looks at Ouwehand; Ouwehand nods at Fischer's hunched back.

'Would you know where the 'ninety-three to 'ninety-eight ledgers are, Mr Fischer?'

'I know where everything is in my office.'

'Then would you kindly tell me where to find the 'ninety-three to 'ninety-eight ledgers?'

'Why do you need them,' Fischer looks around, 'exactly?'

'To carry out the duties assigned to me by Chief Resident Vorstenbosch.'

Ouwehand hums a nervous bar of the Prinsenlied.

'Errors,' Fischer gnashes his words, 'here' - the Prussian thumps the pile of ledgers in front of him - 'occur not because we unfrauded the Company' - his Dutch deteriorates - 'but because Snitker forbade us forbade us to keep proper ledgers.' to keep proper ledgers.'

Long-sighted Jacob removes his glasses to dissolve Fischer's face.

'Who has accused you of defrauding the Company, Mr Fischer?'

'I am sick - do you hear? Sick! Sick! - of the . . . of the never-ending inference!' - of the . . . of the never-ending inference!'

Lethargic waves die on the other side of the Sea Wall.

'Why does the Chief,' demands Fischer, 'not instruct I I to repair the ledgers?' to repair the ledgers?'

'Is it not logical to appoint an auditor unconnected with Snitker's regime?'

'So I I, too, am an embezzler, now?' Fischer's nostrils dilate. 'You admit it! You plot against us all! I dare dare you to deny it!' you to deny it!'

'All the Chief wants,' says Jacob, 'is one one version of the truth.' version of the truth.'

'My powers of logic,' Fischer waves an erect index finger at Jacob, 'destroy your lie! I warn you, in Surinam I shot more Blacks than Clerk de Zoet can count on his abacus. Attack me me, and I crush you under my foot. So here here,' the ill-tempered Prussian deposits the pile of ledgers in Jacob's hands. 'Sniff for "errors". I go to Mr van Cleef to discuss - to make a profit for the Company this season!'

Fischer rams on his hat and leaves, slamming the door.

'It's a compliment, in a way,' says Ouwehand. 'You make him nervous.'

I just want to do my job, Jacob thinks. 'Nervous about what?'

'Ten dozen boxes marked "Kumamoto Camphor" loaded in 'ninety-six and 'ninety-seven.'

'Were they something other than Kumamoto Camphor?'

'No, but page fourteen of our ledgers lists twelve twelve-pound boxes: the Japanese records, as Ogawa can tell you, list thirty-six thirty-six-pounders.' Ouwehand goes to the water pitcher. 'At Batavia,' he continues, 'one Johannes van der Broeck, a Customs officer, sells the excess: the son-in-law of Chairman van der Broeck of the Council of the Indies. It's a swindle as sweet as honey. A cup of water?'

'Yes, please.' Jacob drinks. 'And this you tell me because . . .'

'Blank self-interest: Mr Vorstenbosch is here for five whole years, no?'

'Yes,' Jacob lies, because he must. 'I shall serve my contract with him.'

A fat fly traces a lazy oval through light and shadow.

'When Fischer wakes up to the fact that it's Vorstenbosch and not van Cleef he must wed and bed, he'll stick a knife into my my back.' back.'

'With what knife,' Jacob sees the next question, 'might he do that?'

'Can you promise,' Ouwehand scratches his neck, 'I shan't be Snitkered?'

'I promise,' power has an unpleasant taste, 'to tell Mr Vorstenbosch that Ponke Ouwehand is a helper and not a hinderer.'

Ouwehand weighs Jacob's sentence. 'Last year's private sales records will show that I brought in fifty bolts of Indian Chintz. The Japanese private sales accounts, however, shall show me selling one hundred and fifty. Of the surplus, Captain Hofstra of the Octavia Octavia commandeered half, though of course I can't prove that; and neither can he, God grant mercy to his drowned soul.' commandeered half, though of course I can't prove that; and neither can he, God grant mercy to his drowned soul.'

'A helper,' the fat fly settles on Jacob's blotter, 'not a hinderer, Mr Ouwehand.'

Dr Marinus's students arrive at three o'clock precisely.

The Sick Room door is ajar, but Jacob cannot see into the Surgery.

Four male voices chorus, 'Good afternoon, Dr Marinus.'

'Today, Seminarians,' says Marinus, 'we have a practical experiment. Whilst Eelattu and I prepare this, each of you shall study a different Dutch text, and translate it into Japanese. My friend Dr Maeno has agreed to inspect your handiwork later this week. The paragraphs are relevant to your interests: to Mr Muramoto, our bonesetter-in-chief, I proffer Albinus's Tabulae sceleti et musculorum corporis humani Tabulae sceleti et musculorum corporis humani; Mr Kajiwaki, a passage on cancer from Jean-Louis Petit, who lends his name to the trigonum Petiti trigonum Petiti which is what and where?' which is what and where?'

'Muscle hole in back, Doctor.'

'Mr Yano, you have Dr Olof Acrel, my old master at Uppsala; his essay on cataracts I translated from the Swedish. For Mr Ikematsu, a page of Lorenz Heister's Chirurgie Chirurgie on disorders of the skin . . . and Miss Aibagawa shall peruse the admirable Dr Smellie. This passage, however, is problematical. In the Sick Room awaits the volunteer for today's demonstration, who may assist you on matters of Dutch vocabulary . . .' Marinus's lumpish head appears around the door-frame. 'Domburger! I present Miss Aibagawa, and urge you, on disorders of the skin . . . and Miss Aibagawa shall peruse the admirable Dr Smellie. This passage, however, is problematical. In the Sick Room awaits the volunteer for today's demonstration, who may assist you on matters of Dutch vocabulary . . .' Marinus's lumpish head appears around the door-frame. 'Domburger! I present Miss Aibagawa, and urge you, Orate ne intretis in tentationem Orate ne intretis in tentationem.'

Miss Aibagawa recognises the red-haired green-eyed foreigner.

'Good afternoon,' his throat is dry, 'Miss Aibagawa.'

'Good afternoon,' her voice is clear, 'Mr . . . "Dom-bugger"?'

' "Domburger" is . . . is the doctor's little joke. My name is de Zoet.'

She lowers her writing desk: a tray with legs. ' "Dom-bugger" is funny joke?'

'Dr Marinus thinks so: my home-town is called "Domburg".'

She makes an unconvinced rising mmm mmm noise. 'Mr de Zoet is sick?' noise. 'Mr de Zoet is sick?'

'Oh - that is to say - a little, yes. I have a pain in . . .' He pats his abdomen.

'Stools like water?' The midwife assumes control. 'Bad smell?'

'No.' Jacob is thrown by her directness. 'The pain is in my - in my liver.'

'Your' - she enunciates the l l with great care - ' with great care - 'liver?'

'Just so: my liver pains me. I trust that Miss Aibagawa is well?'

'Yes, I am quite well. I trust that your friend monkey is well?'

'My - oh, William Pitt? My monkey friend is - well, he is no more.'

'I am sorry not to understand. Monkey is . . . no more what?'

'No more alive. I -' Jacob mimes breaking a chicken's neck '- killed the rascal, you see; tanned his hide and turned him into a new tobacco pouch.'

Her mouth and eyes open in horror.

If Jacob had a pistol, he would shoot himself. 'I joke, miss! The monkey is happy and alive and well, shooling, somewhere - thieving, that is . . .'

'Correct, Mr Muramoto.' Marinus's voice travels from the surgery. 'First one boils away the subcutaneous fat, and after, injects the veins with coloured wax . . .'

'Shall we . . .' Jacob curses his misfired joke '. . . open your text?'

She is wondering how this can be done at a safe distance.

'Miss Aibagawa could seat herself there there.' He points to the end of the bed. 'Read your text aloud, and when you meet a difficult word we shall discuss it.'

She nods that the arrangement is satisfactory, sits and begins reading.

Van Cleef's courtesan speaks at a shrill pitch, apparently considered to be feminine, but Miss Aibagawa's reading voice is lower, quieter and calming. Jacob blesses this excuse to study her part-burnt face and her careful lips . . . ' "Soon after this occ-u-rrence" . . .' She looks up. 'What is, please?'

'An occurrence would be a - a happening, or an event.'

'Thank you. ". . . this occurrence, in consulting Ruysch about every thing he had writ concerning women . . . I found him exclaiming against the premature extraction of the placenta and his authority confirmed the opinion I had already adopted . . . and induced me a more natural way of proceeding. When I have separated the Funis . . . and given away the child . . . I introduce my finger into the vagina . . . " '

In all his life, Jacob has never heard this word spoken aloud.

She senses his shock and looks up, half alarmed. 'I mistake?'

Dr Lucas Marinus, Jacob thinks, you sadistic monster you sadistic monster. 'No,' he says.

Frowning, she finds her place again: ' ". . . to feel if the placenta is at the os uteri os uteri . . . and if this is the case . . . I am sure it will come down of itself in any rate . . . I wait for some time, and commonly in ten, fifteen or twenty minutes . . . the woman begins to be seized with some after-pains . . . which gradually separate and force it along . . . but pulling gently at the . . . and if this is the case . . . I am sure it will come down of itself in any rate . . . I wait for some time, and commonly in ten, fifteen or twenty minutes . . . the woman begins to be seized with some after-pains . . . which gradually separate and force it along . . . but pulling gently at the funis funis, it descends into the -" ' she glances up at Jacob ' "- vagina. Then, taking hold of it, I bring it through the . . . the os externum os externum." There.' She looks up. 'I finish sentences. Liver is making much pain?'

'Dr Smellie's language,' Jacob swallows, 'is rather . . . direct.'