Tag: Daoist inflected fiction

  • The Blue Marquis III – What Kaminski Found

    The Blue Marquis III – What Kaminski Found

    Some days later, Lili received Kaminski’s note asking her to call at his shop when she was able. Wary that the tong may be keeping an eye on the jeweller’s, she penned a note and gave it to hotel reception to deliver to Detective Forster at Russell Street.

    “You mentioned,” she said when he arrived at her door in the early afternoon, “you had a question or two you wanted to ask him about my ‘case,’ as you call it.”

    “Just to tidy up one or two minor details,” William replied. “It shouldn’t interfere with your business.”

    Kaminski was amenable to the detective’s participation in the meeting. “Tea for my guests, if you please,” he said to an attendant after greeting them. He seated them in his back room, and Forster briefed him on the events that occurred after Lili’s previous visit. He appeared visibly stunned, then solicitous when told about the incident at West Melbourne Swamp. “My dear girl,” he said, “that is a most notorious area. You must promise me never to set foot there again.”

    “I was coerced to go into that godforsaken wilderness,” she replied with implacable calm. “But with your kind offices, and the Melbourne Police Force at my side, now it all seems like a fading nightmare.”

    “I wonder, sir,” asked Forster, “whether you might have some idea about the people who were pursuing her, since they managed to plant a note in her pocket just after she left here. I imagine they may have tracked her in the first place by watching the jewellers in the district.”

    “I am loath to admit that some knaves number among my profession,” Kaminski said. “I am deeply grateful that Miss Chan chanced upon me with enquiries about her jewels, else she may have found herself even more gravely ensnared. However, I pride myself on being widely known for my high ethics, even among blackguards of their stamp. They know what to expect should they darken my door.”

    One of Kaminski’s attendants entered with tea. When she had left, Kaminski continued.

    “In other words,” he said, “our established clientele are impeccable – as is my establishment in the scrupulous measures we take to preserve all elements of their privacy.” His finger tapped slightly on a business ledger on top of the mahogany desk, which was set with some neat rows of velvet-lined trays, alongside one or two instruments of his trade.

    “No, I did not mean to imply otherwise,” Forster was quick to reassure him. “Indeed, Russell Street has quite a comprehensive understanding of the establishments in this trade, and your own possesses an immaculate reputation with us. I presume, therefore, that you are unfamiliar with our felon from the other evening, a burly Chinese-American thug who goes – that is to say – went by the alias Algernon, and his associate, a young Victorian female, modest in means yet familiar with this neighbourhood, who calls herself Moira?”

    “I should say not.”

    Forster chuckled lightly at the man’s profound indignation. “Then, that’s all my loose threads tied up, thank you, Mr Kaminski. Miss Chan has asked me to remain while she completes her business, if you don’t mind.”

    “Not in the least,” Kaminski said, and fetched from his safe a tray holding several small envelopes and some documents. “I have finished cataloguing your gems, Miss Chan, and a fine collection it is, including, as I mentioned during our last meeting, one outstanding stone. I will match them against the inventory and, if you don’t mind, have you sign for them.”

    Lili and Kaminski examined the contents of each package, and Lili signed one of the papers. Forster sat back in his chair, casually overseeing the proceedings.

    “After my ordeal at the hands of the criminal underworld, I should be rather anxious keeping these valuables about me here in the city. And my premises at Deep Lead are not altogether as secure as they might be,” she said.

    Kaminski replied that he would be honoured to take charge of the jewels, act as her agent in any trade dealings she might require, and have them deposited in his strong-room box in the Bank of Australasia for safekeeping in the long term, where he kept his finest gems, to all of which she assented. Forster agreed to witness their transaction, signing where Kaminski indicated. Lili kept only a few gems to carry in the false bottom of her jewel case, “for any extraordinary expenses which may arise,” she said.

    “Oh, and of course, I almost forgot,” said Kaminski when they finished. “The matter of that special stone, which I have researched a little about. Fascinating story…”

    “Perhaps tedious for William…” Lili broke in.

    “Go right ahead,” said Forster insouciantly, “I’m not in any hurry.”

    Kaminski resumed his seat and took a sip of tea. “I recovered the issue of the Jewelers’ Circular and Horological Review where I first saw mention of the rumour that an important historical gem was being offered for sale in the United States,” he said. “The stone was further rumoured to have entered the French royal collection during the reign of Louis XV. It is not reported as established fact, mind you; however, it was supposed to be among a number of pieces that disappeared during the theft of the Crown Jewels from the Garde-Meuble in Paris, in September 1792, amid the violence of the French Revolution and the imprisonment of Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette.”

    Lili felt a tingle in her spine that was not entirely pleasant. Forster looked mildly interested.

    Kaminski continued: “What caught my eye was the reported description of the stone as being cut in ‘an old, elongated navette’ form – that means like a ‘little boat’, pointed at both ends. There is a charming story, probably a myth, mind you, that the style came into fashion when Louis XV had a diamond cut in a shape intended to resemble the smile of his mistress, the Marquise de Pompadour. The cut itself came to be known as the ‘marquise cut.’”

    He took up a small publication that lay in the tray, thumbed through a few pages, and continued, “You see, there is even a sketch of the rumoured stone.” He emptied a gem from one of the envelopes, and it lay there glistening alone on the black velvet, an intriguing pale, smoky violet glimmer about it. Lili took the Circular issue and peered at the sketch, then picked up the gem and compared the two. “Hmm…” She held it up to the window light and turned it slightly, causing its steel-blue heart to flash for the briefest instant.

    Forster uncrossed his legs and sat a little more forward in his seat. “Miss Chan,” he said quietly, “do you happen to have brought your ‘Blue Marquis’ with you, which we returned to you at Russell Street?” She withdrew it from her jewellery case and placed both gems down together on the tray.

    Kaminski let out a guffaw. “No, no!” he laughed. “This vulgar piece of strass bears not the slightest resemblance to a true diamond, let alone the so-called Blue Marquis, rumoured to have been seen some years ago in America.”

    Forster had set his mouth in a grim line, but said nothing more. Lili sensed his detective’s mind at work, connecting her via Moira’s testimony to acts she may have committed in San Francisco that were, strictly speaking, felonies.

    “All hearsay,” she could say.

    He would regard her with that cool eye of his. “Perhaps, but I am struck by the alignment of these details with the gems in your possession. In particular, I note that you allowed me to carry on under the delusion that this rumoured Blue Marquis was strass, while keeping this valuable stone, the real one, here under lock and key and having it valued.”

    “I had never heard of it before this fantastical history lesson.”

    “No? And yet our tong friend at the Swamp seemed deadly familiar with the name.”

    “This is all terribly interesting, Mr Kaminski,” Lili said. “But why Marquis and not Marquise?”

    “To distinguish the particular stone from its generic cut – the Marquise style I described.”

    “Do continue. You were telling us that the stone was stolen during the Revolution.”

    “Indeed. Most of the stolen Crown Jewels eventually reappeared during the years after the theft, but a small number – this one possibly included – did not resurface for decades. Others perhaps never will. The rumoured Blue Marquis is somewhat smaller than the stones recorded in the inventories of the Ancien Régime, but similar enough in cut and colour for some experts to conclude that it may have been recut from one of the original royal stones.”

    Forster leaned forward. “What order of value are we speaking of, Mr Kaminski?”

    “As an ordinary stone, it is worth a small fortune – easily eight hundred pounds sterling.”

    “And if it is this lost…Blue Marquis?”

    “If this provenance as rumoured can be established, I hesitate to give a figure – immeasurably more.”

    “Enough to kill for,” he would say.

    “And you would be able to prove that to a jury, beyond a reasonable doubt? Or would you be stuck with another – what did you call it – ‘circumstantial case,’ I wonder?”

    He would shake his head, as though questioning how he could have been so taken in.

    “I did nothing out of greed, believe me, William.”

    “As the theory has it,” Kaminski continued, “further evidence for the Marquis appears in a London auction catalogue of 1851, which refers to ‘a valuable blue navette-cut diamond, of six and three-quarter carats, of uncertain provenance, but unquestionably French.’”

    “And the weight of the article before us?” said Forster, already anticipating Kaminski’s answer.

    “That’s the marvellous thing,” Kaminski said with a wide smile. “Six and three-quarters precisely.”

    “The documented trail ends in London, though,” Lili suggested blandly.

    “The documented trail, perhaps. There are later reports of a similar blue stone circulating among merchants in the Pearl River trade, though nothing firm enough to establish ownership or continuity.”

    “All extremely iffy,” Lili said.

    “Except for 1853 murmurs in a San Francisco newspaper about a ‘blue talisman’ discovered in a crate of curios from China,” Kaminski insisted, “which quickly became an object of frantic desire among waterfront gamblers and dealers.”

    Lili was quiet.

    “The point is,” Kaminski insisted, “that the San Francisco report refers to it in a marginal note as Le Marquis Bleu, and suggests royal origins deliberately obscured by a name that preserved a French aristocratic flavour while distancing the stone from the Crown. There is no specific carat weight given in the Circular, but there is the sketch, you see.”

    “The circumstances?” asked Forster.

    “It was offered for sale but the deal collapsed. There have been no further reported sightings. It goes underground again.”

    There was little more to say at Kaminski’s, and even less during their walk to her hotel, where they lingered restlessly in the lobby.

    “Well…” said Forster, but did not finish whatever it was he had intended.

    “You don’t have to say anything, I know what you are thinking. I can tell you where the trail went after London. To a smuggler in San Francisco; to my employer, Madame Ah Toy, whose note Mr Lee Kong Wing, the Elder at the See Yup Temple, delivered to me; then to Fang, who stole it from her. Finally, to me.”

    “So Moira was right. You murdered Fang Jing Dock for the Blue Marquis.”

    “I did nothing for that diamond nor any others.”

    “The most heinous of crimes.”

    “If I had not bitten through in that circumstance, I would have been devoured whole – and I very nearly was. Perhaps a man cannot understand.”

    “I sympathise deeply with you for the plight you suffered in San Francisco. But I never dreamed you capable of such a crime.”

    “Men,” she said under her breath. “Merely circumstantial evidence, Detective.”

    “Then let me ask you straight out, Lili. Did you kill Fang Jing Dock?”

    “I have not come so far,” she said steadily, “to confess, so to speak, any of my acts to a man. Even a man like you.”


    From the draft novel Stawell Bardo © Michael Guest 2026

  • Dust of the Dragon’s Tail

    Dust of the Dragon’s Tail

    The fleeting glimpse he had gained of a young fair-haired woman through the half-opened doorway to the inner sanctum of the Jade Phoenix had nagged at the detective. Of late, Chinese camps were acquiring a reputation among certain of the Wimmera youth for the unwholesome diversions they afforded. Alluring as these places may have appeared to some of tender years, especially to the wayward and unchristian among them, they were commonly reckoned iniquitous dens.

    One sixteen-year-old girl undertook a week-long, hundred-and-forty-mile journey from her home at Ballan, only fifty miles out of Melbourne, in quest, so she said, of a situation at Horsham. Playing upon the compassion of publicans she visited along the way, she obtained overnight board and a shilling here and there to buy meals on the road. Her real destination turned out, after a circuitous detour, to be the house of a suspect European woman at the Deep Lead Chinese camp, where she took up quarters.

    Hearing news of her arrival, Constable Hillard went out to interview her and, disbelieving her story, gave her notice to quit. When she spun him more yarns, attempting to fob him off and contrive to remain, he brought her up on vagrancy before the Stawell bench. The magistrate discharged her after a sound admonition, and the next thing you know, off she went to live with a Chinese gardener at Doctor’s Creek. Not a week later, Hillard ferreted out a second one, not even sixteen, who deserted her family home for the camp, because, she explained, of her father’s cruelty and the lack of comforts at home.

    This same girl was already known to the police, having recently preferred a rather serious charge against a young man from Stawell, which he was to answer at the next General Sessions. There was something wrong in the state of Denmark, the magistrate informed Forster in writing, when girls such as these sought the association of a Chinese camp, proposing that if an example were made of those who harboured them there, it might prove a deterrent.

    Dark-eyed Miss Chan – Forster addressed her as such, for the woman’s unassailable poise checked in him any impulse he may have felt to assume the familiarity of ‘Lili’ – acknowledged, when he called on her the next day, that she had indeed engaged a young white woman as a waitress and housekeeper, and he was welcome to meet her; she was just now in the back garden feeding the chickens. This he did. No ragamuffin, but a strapping, jocular red-haired Irish colleen of nineteen she was, radiating goodwill and health, and obviously unsoiled by the demons of opium and rum.

    Perhaps, Forster reflected, the growing distaste for the Chinese immigrant as ignorant pagan and filthy barbarian had little basis beyond plain bigotry and the biased reporting of the newspapers. There was the old enmity of rival gold-miners, resulting in thuggery and atrocity at Buckland River, Lambing Flats, and as close by as Ararat itself, less than twenty years ago.

    Detective Forster sits alone at his desk in a modest 1880s bush office, leaning over papers in a dark coat and brimmed hat. An oil lamp and scattered documents rest on the desk, and the scene has a sombre, reflective mood.

    Disgruntled unionists were, he presumed, at the root of the more recent political pressure to exclude Chinese sailors and stokers from working on steamers trading to and about the Australian ports. Invariably cheerful and obliging Chinese fishmongers and hawkers of all sorts of useful wares had now become the targets of insult and violence from many working-class Australians, owing to a general animus against the Australian Steam Navigation Company, which had been hiring Chinese. Most unworthy of a great, free people. And what did this rabble know of China, a country they so despised? Most likely little, if anything, more than he did.

    If Lili Chan and his other new acquaintance, the mysterious Mow Fung – full of surprises he was, publican-cum-priest of some sort, evidently – were a measure, the Chinese had much to contribute to this country, and especially to a far-flung region like this. In idle moments, he found his thoughts wandering in their direction – and in Lili Chan’s, he cautioned himself, rather too often. He could entertain not the slightest likelihood that such a woman might have any possible interest in a crusty, ill-oiled bachelor such as he, even despite her situation, which was a morally tenuous one in the eyes of most. He could only wonder at what had brought her here, to the middle of nowhere, when clearly her talents and charms – that trace of a cultured American accent – would have fitted her for a rewarding position in Melbourne, at least. Enigma indeed. Her skin was of such a subdued olive hue, her features of such subtlety, that she might well pass for white, given the right circumstances and Western attire. Now, there he went, off again on mad imaginings …

    It was in the midst of reflecting on her features that he recalled having paused, some months earlier, on an item in the weekly Victorian Police Gazette – one that had caught his eye by departing from the usual notices concerning people wanted for questioning, prisoners discharged from gaol and the like. He retrieved the number from the bottom of a tea chest packed with old copies of the journal in a corner of the storeroom by the stables.

    “The whereabouts of a missing beneficiary are sought. The Cantonese woman, of Anglo-Chinese descent, has been traced from the United States, where she spent several years after leaving China, to the Colony. Information has come to light concerning her entitlement to a considerable inheritance, of which she is not likely to be aware. Contact should be made with Chief Commissioner Chomley.”

    The memory of the notice clung to him. The next day he rode to the Jade Phoenix, and presently laid the gazette before Miss Chan. The proprietress looked up from the page and bathed the detective in the cool liquid of her unblinking gaze.

    “I was not aware, Sergeant, that you took such an interest in the minutiae of my appearance and background. Your detective’s training, no doubt. The innocent Miss Finnegan discovered in the employ of this humble if disreputable establishment – that speaks well for your skill. Are you ever able to separate yourself from your duties as a … copper?”

    Mincing by their armchairs just as her name was mentioned, the lusty Molly Finnegan, playing at saucy Irish soubrette, flourished her feather duster and made her exit.

    “Have you ever thought of entering the gambling line? Your attention to detail and, I suspect, your talent for handling disturbances would be invaluable,” Lili Chan said.

    “I dare say the references would prove difficult.”

    “On the contrary, Sergeant. In certain establishments, a good blow and a discreet silence recommend a man admirably.”

    “I suspect I should make a very poor ornament to such a profession.”

    “A poor ornament may still have his uses,” Lili said.

    She lowered her eyes to the gazette again. “In some houses, usefulness is the rarer quality.”

    He watched her a moment. “Miss Chan, does this notice mean anything to you?”

    “My origins are too humble, I fear, to promise any inheritance beyond poverty and woe; but if it will put your mind at ease, you may enquire with the Chief Commissioner on my behalf.” What harm, she reflected, could come of agreeing to so much, when to refuse would only raise suspicion.

    • • •

    “Where were we?” said the voice of Huish-Huish, accompanied by the gentle jangle of a consecrated shamanic rattle, amid the light aroma of incense.

    “I recall, the zither.”

    After Fang Jing Dock’s tong began putting some serious pressure on Ah Toy, unassailable though she had been for the past twenty years, she sold up and moved to an undisclosed destination. With no choice in the matter, Chan Lee Lung became his mistress, and he moved in with her. It had been clear for some time that despite his dandyish affectations he was an enforcer – a so-called highbinder or hatchetman – for the Hing San Fong Tong, passing publicly under the name Society of the Mind Abiding in Tranquility and Freedom. Whenever he went out to conduct business of a certain kind, he would don chain mail beneath his dress shirt, tightly bind his queue up underneath his derby, to keep it from being seized in any rough stuff, and conceal his butterfly swords beneath the back of his jacket, all the while preening himself before his ornate mirror.

    One evening he and a henchman returned to the house with another Chinese man unknown to her. The three repaired to a room that Fang had commandeered as his music studio, where he also kept a small vault containing the most precious valuables of his tong: a handful of flawless diamonds of inestimable value. Before long the sound of Fang’s Viennese zither could be heard filtering out, a fantasia on Il Trovatore. She went to her bed and fell into a deep sleep, to be shaken awake by Fang.

    The highbinder Fang wearing suit, derby, and barely concealed chainmail vest, preens himself in an ornate mirror, adjusting his appearance with deliberate care. The image is rendered in a watery, near-monochrome wash with a subtle red highlight, the reflected figure contained within the frame and the edges fading into abstraction.

    “Go and see what you think of the new centrepiece in the studio and tidy up a bit in there. Fat Louis and I have some business to discuss, then we’ll get things back in order.”

    The third man sat slumped sideways in a wicker chair, his sightless eyes bulging wide, his tongue lolling from the contorted blue face. Around the throat, biting deep into the flesh, was a garrote fashioned from a metal contrabass string, carving what looked like a raspberry-jam-filled rut. She sank silently onto a chair and took stock of her future, which was clearly what Fang had intended.

    When she entered the sitting room, Fang and Fat Louis were sipping pink champagne, and nibbling on Roquefort.

    “Nice tang,” Fat Louis said. “King of cheeses.”

    “Butyric acid caused by the fungus Penicillium roqueforti,” Fang said. “Legend has it that the cheese was discovered when a youth herding his sheep on Combalou Mountain, partook of his lunch of bread and ewes’ milk curds. Seeing a beautiful girl in the distance, he ran off vainly in pursuit of her, leaving behind his flock and his lunch. When he revisited the spot a few months later, the mold had transformed his plain peasant repast into this delectable bonne bouche.”

    Then looking up at Chan Lee, “That was quick. Did he have anything to say?”

    “He thought the end was the best part,” she said in a measured tone.

    “The critics be damned, I say!”

    The two men fell about.

    Chan Lee looked at Fang steadily.

    “There is no medicine for vulgarity,” she said, taking up the champagne flute on the table for Fat Louis to fill. No way out of this but forward; she must watch for an opportunity out of the corner of her eye. 

    “I told you she would have what it takes,” Fang said. “You can tell a woman of breeding. And she knows as well,” lending a malevolent emphasis, “that the song of a dead bird is a sad one.”

    One thing was certain: to run to the police, if the chance arose, would be a waste of time and might well invite a fatal reprisal from Fang’s cohorts, were he to be put away, which in fact was unlikely, since the law tended to stay out of Chinese matters when they did not directly affect anyone else. For the time being she played the dutiful concubine to Fang. As he wished, she took on the mantle of his wife, at least in the view of the public, though the union was not sanctioned by either a Chinese or American ceremony. As an enforced confidante of the highbinder, who often boasted to her of his crimes, she was ever more ensnared in the strands of his fate, becoming, in the parlance of the courts, an accessory after the fact, and thus acquiring the guilt of his felonies.

    • • •

    In the Deep Lead Joss House, Chan Lee sorted through fifty yarrow stalks as Huish-Huish had taught her, occasionally raising them to her nose to savour the herb’s unique aroma. Huish-Huish counted off the number of stalks remaining between Chan Lee’s fingers at each stage, and the procedure was repeated six times to determine the lines of the session’s hexagram: Biting Through – judgement, punishment, discernment. None of the lines signifies guilt, though a little harm may be done. On the whole, an optimistic sign: though there may be trouble at the beginning, one bite’s through. Justice is administered, punishments exacted. If you lose your teeth, you lose your grip.

    Black on gold image of the Yi Jing (I Ching) hexagram 21 Biting Through. Bottom to top, the lines are Yang (solid), Yin (broken), Yin, Yang, Yin, Yang.

    “Cutting … gnawing … chewing …” Huish-Huish said. “A picture of the mouth. You bite through, get your teeth into something.”

    “Cutting.” Chan Lee intoned the word, the eye of flesh closing, the inward gaze of the eye of her contemplation floating back in time. “If you chew dried salt meat, you’ll find yourself poisoned.”

    Knowing not whether for good or ill, she decided that her best move would be to gratify him by seeming to take pleasure in what he did – deeds she found appalling and sickening, lacking as she did the same innate relish for inflicting misery that she now knew to be his. She did not stop to ask whether repeated exposure would inure her to his evils; whether, by touching black paint, her fingers too might be blackened. One thing was sure: there was no iota of love in her heart for the man who had become her ostensible protector. Fang was a man in whose arid heart love for any other creature had never taken root. As time went by, familiarity became contempt, and instead of any initial ardour, the possession of one so desired by others only fed in him a seething sadistic scorn that grew stronger by the day. This scorn he expressed in a ritual of cruelty, a proxy for the conjugal act, with strangulation and cutting for caresses. Sometimes his fervent passions quite got the better of him, and it was on the cards that he would murder her before too much longer.

    Deadened by morphia, a living ghost of herself, she faded from the view of her admirers, most of them so addled that, appeased by a surfeit of available substitutes, they forgot her before long – or rather, recalled only the myth of that bewitching peony of the Barbary Coast, and not the flesh-and-blood woman. Most. An up-and-coming stage magician, Chee Ling Qua, formerly of the ‘Court of Peking’ troupe, was presently engaged at the Bella Union – fire-breathing, sword-swallowing, linking rings, disappearing rabbits and chickens, the works. He could materialize a great big glass bowl full of goldfish out of thin air. A gentle soul, meek and mild, far from a hero come to save the day, but she credited his avowals of undying love and knew that he possessed, if not great means, at least some paste gems of amazing fire and brilliance for use in his performances.

    He was also on close terms with the most highly skilled and secretive Celestial apothecary in the city, whom he commissioned to create incendiaries and other chemical substances necessary for his stage effects. Chan Lee contrived to steal some time alone with the magician in his dressing room one evening when Fang was occupied with business; though he despised her he was as possessive of her as ever. He was much preoccupied these days, his gang embroiled in a war with a rival tong over the exclusive right to operate fan tan games and lotteries in the Barbary Coast. As it happened, Ling Qua was on the verge of pulling up stakes and setting off abroad with his own small troupe. Chan Lee should come with them at any cost, he begged, as she rearranged his robes. She could work as his magician’s assistant, peppering up the act with an arabesque here and a shimmy there … she’d pack them in.

    A month later, the Australasian and American Mail Steamship Company’s City of Melbourne headed towards the Golden Gate, its passenger list including a modest troupe of performers, a mixture of Chinese and Europeans, among them the sylphlike Suzon Chabrier formerly of the Folies Bergère, an inconspicuous brunette who, on closer inspection, as the customs official who processed her had remarked to his colleague, had a charming and subtle nuance of face that could almost pass as oriental. While her fellow passengers lined the decks for their last glimpses of Angel Island, Yerba Buena, and Alcatraz, Miss Chabrier reclined on a deckchair in a discreet black velvet dress, her chapeau decorated with simple field blossoms and pushed forward over her head, perusing the Daily Alta California. She was particularly attentive to an article on page two, which reported on the sudden death of a despised highbinder for the Hing San Fong Tong, one Fang Jing Dock. A photograph of the victim’s corpse had sunk into grainy shadow, which was perhaps for the best, the report ran, since readers would have found the contorted face and twisted limbs most distressing. Suzon applied her reading magnifier to the image, then read on. A note found on the corpse showed that he had expected death by rival hatchetmen.

    Chan Lee, later known as Lily Chan, sits in a deckchair aboard a steamship leaving San Francisco, having assumed the identity of Suzon Chabrier of the Folies Bergère.

    The note read: ‘Soon I must go to my fathers. Whether by the broad bladed axe or by dust of the dragon’s tail, it matters not. This I know. I go. I commend my spirit to Buddha, the all-wise and merciful.’

    “A searching examination of the body,” the reporter continued, “failed to reveal any marks of violence. It is believed that by ‘dust of the dragon’s tail,’ Fang referred to some potent oriental poison. From his expression of agony, it appeared he had been administered sufficient of the substance, whatever it was, to kill an hundred men. Police arrested another highbinder named Fat Louis, who is well-known to have been an associate of the dead man; but it has come out that he was employed surreptitiously by the rival tong in question, the See Yups. The dead man, who will not be missed, was under suspicion for a number of murders of fellow Chinese. A woman with whom he cohabited, once well-known around the gambling dens and houses of ill-repute, has not been seen for several months, and is now added to a long list of the presumed victims of the deceased ne’er-do-well.”


    From the draft novel Stawell Bardo © Michael Guest 2026