25
The next day, as Turner stepped out onto the terrace, he noticed a man standing in the garden. His blood froze. It was a Japanese man with pruning shears in his hands. The man turned around, smiled, and waved amicably. Must be the gardener, thought Turner, but why didn’t I know about him?
“Good morning,” Turner greeted him, but the man was standing still on the lawn, smiling. “Do you speak English?” He did not receive a reply. Turner made a call to the landlord and mentioned that there was a man in the garden. The landlord reassured him that it was just the gardener, Mr. Tong, a simpleton, but an excellent worker. He usually worked two hours, twice a month. Moreover, not only did he not speak English, he did not even speak Japanese because he was Chinese. He would soon be finished. Tu
