NEXT MORNING Sandilands was in his office when he had a telephone call from the Residency. It was Sir Hugo himself, at his most suave. ‘Good morning, Andrew.’
‘Good morning.’
There was a sly, diplomatic chuckle. ‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes, I’m alone.’
Though not for long. Through the window he could see Mr Srinavasan approaching, with a flower in his hand, on his way to the office, probably with another complaint. According to him the standards of the College had grievously fallen. The students neglected their studies and forgot their respect for their teachers, because of these confounded elections. ‘Confounded’ was a favourite word of Mr Srinavasan’s. He had once heard a royal personage say it on a railway platform in India. He had another reason for the decline: the proper person for the post of Principal, himself, had been passed over.
‘I would be obliged, Andrew,’ Sir Hugo was saying, ‘if you could come to the Residency for a little chat; well, to be honest, for a rather important discussion.’
‘Am I to bring my wife?’
There was an upper-class peculiarly English chuckle: it meant you’re not to bring your troublesome bitch of a wife. ‘Well, no. It’s a men-only affair.’
‘May I ask who else will be there?’
Another chuckle, meaning no, you impertinent Scottish bastard, you may not ask. ‘Shall we see you at seven, this evening? It is rather urgent really.’
Then, as Sandilands put down the telephone, in bounced Mr Srinavasan, with the flower at his nose, as if its scent would overpower the stink of injustice and favouritism.
‘Good morning, Mr Sandilands.’
‘Good morning, Mr Srinavasan.’
‘May I sit?’
‘You may.’
Mr Srinavasan sat down. He tittered. ‘Are you aware that we have trespassers on the campus? I call them that. Perhaps I should use a more sinister word.’
‘Do you mean monkeys?’
Mr Srinavasan laughed. ‘More mischievous creatures than those, I fear.’
‘Tell me about them.’
Mr Srinavasan became coy. ‘Just half an hour ago I came by chance upon a group of students in a place among the trees where they could not be easily observed.’
‘But you observed them all right?’
‘It was their voices that directed me to them, though they were not speaking loudly. On the contrary they were speaking so quietly as to cause me to become suspicious. I succeeded in observing them without myself being observed.’
As a good spy should. ‘Who were they? Did you recognise them?’
Mr Srinavasan looked cross. ‘They were Chinese.’ And therefore, to him, indistinguishable from one another.
‘Were they speaking in Chinese?’
‘Yes. What an abominable obscure language it is.’
‘So you couldn’t tell what they were talking about?’
‘No, but from their manner which was most secretive I am convinced it was something nefarious.’
‘But you said trespassers, Mr Srinavasan. If they were students surely they were not trespassers?’
‘I was referring to two of them, Chia and Lo, who were expelled for subversive activities.’
Sandilands was surprised but took care not to show it. ‘They were reinstated, Mr Srinavasan. But how could you tell they were Chia and Lo? Do not all Chinese look alike to you?’
‘Lo is one I could never mistake. His eyes, Mr Sandilands. Those of a fanatic. And Chia is much taller than the rest of his race. Why are they here in Savu Town? Were they not sent into the interior, among the aborigines? Who gave them permission to leave their posts? It is most intriguing, is it not?’
Mr Srinavasan had a belief, frequently expressed, that one day there would be a bloody coup in Savu, instigated by Communists.
‘Should the police not be informed, Mr Sandilands?’
Sandilands would have liked to have known why Chia and Lo had come to Savu Town. Had Leila known they were coming? But he was certainly not going to inform the police.
‘Why should former students not visit their college?’ he asked.
‘But this is a most critical time, is it not? Beneath the surface dreadful things may be brewing that we know not of.’
He would dearly have liked to accuse Leila. More vehemently even than the whites of the Golf Club he thought her a troublemaker. He had once been heard to say that nature did not favour those of mixed blood.
It was time to get rid of him.
‘I believe you have a class waiting for you, Mr Srinavasan.’
Srinavasan got up slowly. ‘Thank you for reminding me, Mr Sandilands. I seem to remember that when you were a humble teacher like myself you were not always on time for your classes. Hypocrisy, sir, pervades the world.’
He then sauntered out, leaving the flower like a menace on the desk.