The Man Game by Lee W. Henderson

business ventures, he’d found a place to prosper here in Vancouver. Therefore he loathed to see men with familiar sensitivities become such obvious failures. But, if these woodsmen were stubborn enough to sell him black-market lumber off land he’d sold his claim to, without any way for the CPR to know where the forest all went, then so be it. What RH planned to do with this lumber was sell the logs, bark and all, straight to the Chinese Emperor, who wanted to build a great fortress, and who paid RH monthly with large sums of cash and chartered a specific boat for the distinguished purpose. RH had to say that it was a successful arrangement on both sides. Savouring that fine reverie, daydream, recollection, call it what you will, he returned his misty eyes to the newspaper in his lap:
    MRS. RED’S SOOTHING SYRUP ∼ WILL ALLAY ALL PAIN AND SPASMODIC ACTION; SURE TO REGULATE THE BOWELS; DEPEND ON IT,MOTHERS! IT WILL GIVE REST TO YOURSELVES AND RELIEF AND HEALTH TO YOUR INFANTS. SOLD BY ALL CHEMISTS, AT 1/2D PER BOTTLE .
    RH was old enough to know Canadian men who’d fought alongside the British and Hindoos against China in the Opium War of 1839. He paid gratitude to their sacrifice every day. In fact, in the reverie of his gratitude, he forgot the newspaper in front of his eyes. He was no more paying attention to it than he was to the voice in the back of his head. He lowered the newsprint in a bird’s flutter to his lap, where it folded down to rest.
    He heard the sound of feet softly treading, the lash of silk, and then, as if a hallucination or spell of déjà vu, there was the lady herself. He saw a puff of white hair. She was in an evening gown that concealed her round figure like the cover over a stagecoach, and the whiteness of her skin and the light amber of her teeth confused her husband’s vision for a moment. As he rose to greet her he realized he was still in his chair, the paper still on his lap, the same ray of light still passing through the room.
    Darling, she said. I’m talking to you.
    To me, he said.
    Yes, darling. Where have our
clothes
all gone, eh?
    All our clothes. I’m sure they’re perfectly safe.
    Safe. Safe has nothing to do with it. Where are they?
    â€¦ I had a boy take them to Chinatown.
    Boy. What, when? When did you do this? Darling, I asked you a question. Darling?
    Yes, he said.
    What’s the matter? I said to you, I said, look at me when I—, darling, I said, when did you have our laundry taken to Chinatown?
    It must have been this morning.
    Outrageous. What inspired this? When have you ever taken an interest in our
lau
ndry?
    Didn’t seem clean.
    Yes, our laundry—
    What I saw on the clothes looked as if it should be taken to be laundered.
    Yes, well—, but darling. We have a
day
when laundry is taken. There’s a day in the week we reserve for this chore. The men down at the laundry have many customers.
    It couldn’t wait.
    What’s this? she said. Darling …
    Hm?
    Please pass me the tin on the sidetable next to you, dear. Thank you.
    LONG-LIFE MUD , said the tin. There was a smudge of black in one corner. She swung her hands before him with the tin in her palms, the lid wide open under his nose. This is my—did you—this is
my
reserve, she said.
    Yes, I apologized already.
    No, you didn’t.
    I remember I apologized many times.
    She sat down on the piano chair and leaned in to him. You’re in no more pain than I am, she said. Have I ever taken from your reserve?
    No, he said.
    We’re not in pain at all, she said and pet his long moustache. I wouldn’t blink an eye if I thought you
were
.
    No, yes, he said.
    Darling, did you
just
take this?
    I did … ago, he said.
    This morning then—, she said.
    Hm, he said. I should a taken it right in the morning, but.
    And you’re out?
    Yes, obviously I am, RH said, lying. He’d hidden his final stash of laudanum that Dr. Langis gave him