Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous; but who is able to stand before envy? -- Proverbs 27:4 (KJV)

"Of course after the wedding you and Simon will live with me," Mrs. Otterbourne said, patting Mildred's shoulder.

If Mildred hadn't already decided to break it off with Simon, the prospect of sharing a house with his mother would have settled the matter. Now if only she could speak to him alone!

"As for your wedding dress," Mrs. Otterbourne continued, to Mildred's despair. She watched in mute horror as Mrs. Otterbourne produced a book of patterns.

Mildred had come to Simon's home this evening hoping he would be alone. His mother usually dined with one of her friends. It was just Mildred's luck that she had picked the one evening when Mrs. Otterbourne felt like staying home. She'd been here half an hour and she hadn't even seen him yet.

Footsteps in the hall outside heralded Simon's arrival. When he opened the door and saw his fiancée he startled visibly. He plastered a smile on immediately after, but Mildred knew his first reaction had been shock, and not the agreeable sort.

"Mildred! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed.

She saw a chance to escape, in more ways than one.

"Simon, I need to talk to you alone," she said, standing up.

Mrs. Otterbourne politely excused herself. Mildred was sure she was listening outside the door, but she no longer cared.

"Simon, I've decided I can't put up with any more. I'm returning your ring."

Simon gawked at her. With his mouth hanging open, he bore a disagreeable resemblance to something on a fishmonger's slab. "Why?"

Mildred had decided to cite the other woman he was seeing. That was a reason he might actually understand; she was sure he'd never understand that she objected to being pushed into the spotlight.

In the distance the doorbell rang. She barely noticed it as she said, "I saw you this afternoon with—"

The door opened. "Excuse me, sir," the butler said, "but your friends have come to see you."

Simon spluttered incoherently. "Friends?"

"Mr. Goncharovsky and the Japanese man, with some others."

Mildred cringed internally. The last thing she wanted at a disagreeable scene was an audience. If it had been Cecilia, or even Philip and Xiao An, she would have been pleased and glad of the moral support. But she wasn't close to Kanayama, and downright disliked Goncharovsky.

Much the same seemed to be going through Simon's mind, judging by the way he paled. "Send them away! I'm busy!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but they said it was urgent. There is a policeman with them."

The butler managed to make it sound like Goncharovsky and Kanayama were about to be carted off to jail. Mildred's mind boggled.

She looked at Simon. His face shocked her. For a second she expected him to burst into tears.

"All right," he said faintly. The butler left. Simon turned on her with a ferocity that was as out of character as it was unexpected. "You knew! This is why you're... Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut, damn you?"

Mildred stared at him. It was impossible he'd gone insane, but it looked so like it that she was suddenly afraid.

The butler reopened the door and ushered a curious group in. "Miss Meng, Mr. Goncharovsky, Mr. Kanayama, Sergeant Zhu, and Mr. Seo."

Meng Wei Yang wore a white dress. For some reason that was what struck Mildred more than anything else. She'd never seen Wei Yang in white before. Who was she mourning?

~~~~

Jiang Qiu Heng had been escorted to the station cells. Jiang Ying had the good luck to get off with a fine and a sharp reprimand. When Yo-han found him he was hanging around outside the police station.

"What are you doing here?" Yo-han asked, expecting the answer to be 'Waiting for my cousin'.

Instead Jiang looked at him morosely and said, "I can't bear to go home."

Oh. He hadn't realised that Mrs. Buchanan's house would have nothing but bad memories for Jiang.

Yo-han went straight to the point. "I know who killed Hannay."

Jiang had been slouched against the wall of the shoe-shop beside the police station. At those words he straightened up as if he'd been electrified.

"Who?" he demanded.

Yo-han told him.

~~~~

Sergeant Zhu was puzzled but eager to join in when Yo-han summarised the situation, leaving out the part that they were going to find a murderer and not just a run-of-the-mill criminal. His eagerness probably had something to do with the Commissioner. Even from a distance of three rooms away, Yo-han could hear the Commissioner saying what he thought of the Jiang family in general and the cousins in particular.

Miss Meng and Kanayama joined the group outside the university. The five of them set off for the American quarter.

Yo-han imagined himself as a witness to the scene four nights ago. Hannay's body had been carried along this road. There was the turn-off that led to Kanayama's boarding-house; there was where the crime had been seen. There was where a clever idea had gone wrong.

~~~~

Simon turned to greet the visitors. He was perfectly pleasant towards them. Mildred could almost believe she'd imagined his bizarre outburst a minute ago.

"This is a pleasant surprise," he said, which was downright hilarious when he had often complained to Mildred about how much he disliked Goncharovsky and found Kanayama boring. "Why have you all come?"

Mr. Seo smiled grimly. Behind him Wei Yang glared at Simon as if she was trying to set him on fire through sheer willpower.

"There's one question that's been puzzling me. I hope you can answer it," Mr. Seo said.

A curious change came over Simon's face. If Mildred didn't know better she'd say it was horror. "What... question?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"How could a letter from Shanghai reach New York and get a reply, all within two days?"

Silence reigned for a moment. It seemed such a silly question. Impossible, Mildred would say. She couldn't understand why Mr. Seo bothered to come here and ask it. She watched Simon's reaction and was even more confused. He stared at Seo as if, like the Lady of Shalott, the curse had come upon him.

"It was an accident," Simon said. "I never touched him!"

Mr. Seo's grim smile returned. "That is not what I asked."

~~~~

Like so many terrible plans, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Simon hadn't cared whether the play was a success or not. He thought Hannay had good ideas; it didn't matter if the university thought so. Simon was sick of China. He wanted to go home. But more importantly he wanted to go home to a lucrative career as a director. He had no ideas of his own, so what was the harm in stealing Edward's? There was no chance Edward, stupid Edward who was happy in China, would ever hear about a play in New York.

He stole Edward's notebook. He waited until they were far enough into rehearsals that Edward didn't really need it. Then he copied it out as best he could — Edward's handwriting was atrocious — and sent it to his cousin, who worked at a theatre in New York. He replaced the notebook in the theatre's sitting room once he was done with it.

Edward should have assumed he'd misplaced it. Why hadn't he?

That was the moment when everything went wrong. Edward started asking too many questions. Did you see my notebook? Did you find it somewhere and leave it back here?

Simon didn't realise he was the main suspect until their argument on opening day.

"You were the only person who could have stolen it. You were the only one backstage." Edward glared at him as if he was something unpleasant he had stepped in. "You wanted to sabotage the play, didn't you?"

"Why would I do that?" Simon asked, relieved that Edward hadn't guessed the truth.

"Because I directed it, not you! Because I didn't include your ludicrous ideas!"

The curtain rose. The play began. And Simon thought that was the end of it. For a while it was. Then he came home after the party and found Edward in his office.

~~~~

Simon comes back for the flowers.

He bought two bouquets, an elegant and expensive one for Mildred and a less expensive but more colourful one for his other girlfriend. He'd left the second one at home. Now he comes to collect it before he goes to his girlfriend's hotel.

A line of light shows under his study door. Simon's first thought is, I forgot to turn it off.

He opens the door.

Edward Hannay stands behind his desk. Simon's transcription of his notes on The Duchess of Malfi in hand. The window open behind him. His head snaps up when the door opens. Simon is still holding the bouquet. The stems are going to drip on his suit.

He tries for outrage. "What are you doing here?"

Edward looks at him in a way Simon has never seen before. His face is like a mask, but his eyes are burning. "I went back to the theatre tonight. I started thinking. You were right. It didn't make any sense for you to sabotage the play." He drops the notebook on the desk. Its cover hits the lampstand with a dull thunk. "I never thought much of you but I never would have thought you were this low."

The utter contempt in his voice enrages Simon. Who does he think he is? He would never have been able to stage his morbid horror-show if it wasn't for Simon's money.

"I could have you arrested for breaking and entering!" he blusters.

"I could have you expelled for plagiarism."

It's one thing to want to leave. It's quite another to be thrown out. Simon panics.

Edward picks up the notebook. "I think the dean will be interested in this."

He turns to leave.

Simon sees his future in ruins: the shame of being exposed as a thief, of having to explain to his mother, of Mildred leaving him in disgust, of never becoming a rich and famous producer.

He throws the bouquet aside. He darts past the desk. Edward's hands are on the windowframe. The notebook is in his pocket.

"Give me that!"

~~~~

"I never touched him!" Otterbourne repeated, shrill and piercing.

In the background Jiang was being held back with some difficulty by Kanayama and Zhu. He spat, "Like hell you didn't! You pushed him!"

Otterbourne crumpled. "I didn't mean to! I didn't think he'd fall!"

Yo-han looked at him in utter disgust. One part of his mind, the part that still longed for adventures worthy of Sherlock Holmes, was irritated at the blow of his pride. This was his first murder case and what did he get? Not a serial killer. Not a clever criminal whose cleverness was his own undoing. Not a Napoleon of Crime nor even a common or garden crime of passion. Just a selfish, rather stupid thief who had killed another student in an argument over a play.

The rest of his mind was appalled precisely because this was a selfish, rather stupid thief who had killed another student in an argument over a play.

Sometimes people murdered for love or hate. Sometimes for politics. Sometimes for money, or power, or to conceal another crime, or because they wanted something very badly. And sometimes, their reasons were so petty that the murder became even more heinous.

Yo-han turned to Sergeant Zhu. "I think we have enough evidence to arrest Mr. Otterbourne."

Zhu nodded emphatically.

Miss Meng had stayed surprisingly quiet during the unfolding drama. Now she stepped forward. Before anyone had a chance to stop her, she slapped Otterbourne across the face with all her might. Otterbourne howled.

~~~~

"So it was murder," Inspector Meng said in the voice of one who would no longer be surprised at anything.

The Commissioner cleared his throat. "Manslaughter, I believe, but going to such lengths to mislead the police will add a few years to his sentence. He says he came up with the idea — of plagiarism, not murder — because he was jealous. Of a reasonably talented amateur director!" He shook his head in disbelief. "The only puzzle left is Hannay's will. He left everything to his wife, but as far as we know he wasn't married."

Yo-han could have solved that mystery too. He took one look at Inspector Meng's face and decided not to. For Miss Meng's sake, and for his own popularity.

~~~~

The Huangpu flowed steadily and sluggishly. Victor stared down at his reflection — an indistinct shadow in the dark water — and thought bitterly that if real life was anything like a play, the weather should reflect his mood. Right now he felt that something more like King Lear, Act 3[1] was needed.

He could have prevented it. That was what tortured him. If he hadn't been afraid of Qiu Heng being discovered, he would have let Edward stay with him. If Edward had still thought of investigating Otterbourne's study, Victor would have gone with him.

He really hadn't been nice to Edward in the weeks before his death. To any of them, really, but especially not to Edward. Day after day of Qiu Heng's company, his petulance, his snide remarks, his cruel insults about Victor's parents, had driven him to despair. And he took it out on everyone around him.

He could have prevented it.

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] AKA "The Storm", the most famous scene in King Lear.