The Chinese Maze Murders (12 page)

“We shall have the body removed to the main hall,” Judge Dee said. “You will now go there, Candidate Ding, and see that everything is ready for the autopsy!”

Ninth Chapter

JUDGE DEE PONDERS ALONE IN A DEAD MAN’S ROOM; THE AUTOPSY BRINGS TO LIGHT THE CAUSE OF DEATH

As soon as Candidate Ding had left Judge Dee ordered Sergeant Hoong:

“Search the victim’s clothes!”

The sergeant felt through the sleeves of the robe. He took from the right sleeve a handkerchief and a small set consisting of toothpick and earcleaner in a brocade cover. He found in the left sleeve a large key of intricate design and a cardboard box. Then he felt in the dead man’s girdle but found only another handkerchief.

Judge Dee opened the cardboard box. It contained nine crystallised plums, neatly arranged in three rows of three. These sweet plums are a delicacy for which Lan-fang is famous. The cover of the box bore a strip of red paper with an inscription: “With respectful congratulations”.

The judge sighed and put the box down on the desk. The coroner removed the writing brush from the stiff fingers of the body. Two constables entered, and the dead General was carried away on a stretcher of bamboo poles.

Judge Dee sat down in the victim’s armchair.

“You will all go to the main hall,” he ordered. “I shall stay here for a while.”

When the others had gone the judge leaned back in the chair and looked pensively at the bookshelves loaded with books and documents. The only empty wall space was on both sides of the door. It was flanked by scroll paintings, and above it there hung a horizontal board with the engraved inscription: “Studio of Self-examination”. This evidently was the name that old General Ding had bestowed on his library.

Then Judge Dee looked at the set of writing materials neatly arranged on the desk. The stone slab for rubbing the ink was a beautiful specimen, and the bamboo brush holder by its side was-delicately carved. Next to the ink slab stood a red porcelain water container for moistening it. It was marked in blue letters “Studio of Self-examination”; evidently it had been made specially for General Ding. A cake of ink was lying on a dimunitive stand of carved jade.

On the left the judge saw two bronze paper weights. They too bore an engraved inscription: “The willow trees borrow their shape from the spring breeze; the rippling waves derive their grace from the autumn moon”. This poetical couplet was signed: “The Recluse of the Bamboo Grove”. Judge Dee assumed that this was the pen name of one of the General’s friends who had had these paper weights made for him.

He took up the brush that the dead man had been using. It was a very elaborate one with a long tip of wolf’s hair. The shaft was of carved red lacquer and bore the inscription: “Reward of the Evening of Life”. Alongside there was engraved in very small, elegant characters: “With respectful congratulations on the completion of six cycles. The Abode of Tranquillity”. Thus this brush was an anniversary gift from another friend.

The judge laid the brush down and had a closer look at the sheet of paper the dead man had been writing on. There were only two lines, written in a bold hand:

“Preface. Historical records go back till the distant past. Many are the illustrious men who have preserved the events of former dynasties for posterity.”

Judge Dee reflected that this was a complete sentence. Thus the General had not been interrupted in the midst of his writing. Probably he had been pondering over the next sentence when the murderer struck.

The judge took up once more the red lacquer brush and idly looked at its ‘intricate carved design of clouds and dragons. It struck him how quiet this secluded library was. Not a sound from outside penetrated here.

He suddenly felt a vague fear assail him. He was sitting in the dead man’s chair, in exactly the same position as the General had been when he died.

The judge quickly looked up. He noticed with a shock that the scroll painting by the door was hanging askew. He felt a sudden panic. Was it from a secret panel behind that scroll that the murderer had stepped into the room and thrust his dagger into the General’s throat? It flashed through his mind that if that were so he himself was now at the murderer’s mercy. He stared fixedly at the scroll, expecting it to move aside and reveal the menacing shape.

With an effort the judge mastered his emotion. He reasoned that Tao Gan would never have overlooked so obvious a place for a secret door. Tao Gan must have left the scroll hanging askew when he had examined the wall behind.

Judge Dee wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead. His fright had passed but he still could not rid himself of the uncanny feeling that he was very close to the murderer.

He moistened the brush in the water jar and bent forward over the desk to try how it wrote. He noticed that the candlestick on his right was in the way. The judge was just going to push it aside when he suddenly arrested his movement.

He leaned back in the armchair and looked pensively at the candle. After he had written down the first two lines the murdered man had apparently paused a moment to
draw that candle nearer. Not for seeing better what he was writing, for then he would have pushed the candle to the left. His eye must have fallen on something he wished to observe closely under the light. At that very moment the murderer had struck.

Judge Dee frowned. He put the writing brush down and took the candlestick in his hand. He scrutinized it carefully but could not discover anything extraordinary about it. He put it back where it had stood before.

The judge shook his head in doubt. Then he rose abruptly and left the library.

As he passed the two constables standing on guard in the corridor he ordered them to watch the library closely and let no one come near it until the broken panel would have been repaired and the door sealed.

In the main hall everything had been put in readiness.

Judge Dee seated himself behind the temporary bench. On the floor in front, the General’s body was lying stretched out on reed mats.

When Candidate Ding had duly testified that that was the body of his father, Judge Dee ordered the coroner to proceed with the autopsy.

The coroner carefully took off all the dead man’s garments. The poor emaciated body now was lying there fully exposed.

Candidate Ding had covered his face with the sleeve of his robe. The scribes and the other court personnel looked on in silence.

The coroner squatted by its side and examined the body inch by inch. He paid special attention to all the vital spots and felt the skull. He broke open the mouth with a silver lamella and inspected the tongue and the throat.

Finally the coroner stood up and reported: “The victim was apparently in good health and without physical defects.

“On the arms and the legs there appear discoloured spots of the size of a copper cash. The tongue is covered by a thick grey film. The wound in the throat was not lethal. Death was caused by a virulent poison administered by means of the thin blade stuck in the victim’s throat.”

The audience gasped. Candidate Ding lowered his arm and looked at the body with a horrified expression.

The coroner unwrapped the dagger and placed it on the bench.

“Your Honour will please notice,” he said, “that next to the dried blood the point shows some alien substance. That is the poison.”

Judge Dee took the small dagger up by its hilt. He scrutinized the dark brown stains on the point.

“Do you know,” he asked the coroner, “what poison this is?”

The coroner shook his head. He said with a smile:

“We have no means, Your Honour, to determine the nature of a poison that is administered externally. Those used internally are well known to us and we are familiar with the symptoms they produce, but those used to poison daggers are very rare. I will only go as far as saying that the colour and shape of the spots on the body suggest that it consisted of the venom of some poisonous reptile.”

The judge made no further comment. He entered the coroner’s statement on an official form and ordered him to read it and affix his thumbmark to it.

Then Judge Dee spoke:

“The body can now be dressed and encoffined. Bring the house steward before me!”

As the constables covered the body with a shroud and placed it on the stretcher, the house steward entered the hall and knelt before the bench.

Judge Dee addressed him:

“You are responsible for the routine of this household. Tell me exactly what happened last night. Begin with the dinner party.”

“The anniversary dinner for His Excellency,” the steward began, “was held in this very hall. The General presided over the table here in the middle.

“Gathered round it were the General’s Second, Third and Fourth Ladies, young master Ding and his wife, and two young cousins of the General’s First Lady who died ten years ago. A hired band of musicians
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played on the terrace outside. They left two hours before the General retired.

“When the hour of midnight was approaching the young master proposed a final toast. Then the General rose saying that he would retire to his library. The young master accompanied the General. I followed behind with a lighted candle.

“The General unlocked the door. I stepped inside and lighted the two candles on the desk with the one I had in my hand. I can testify that the room was completely empty. When I stepped out again the young master was kneeling before the General and bidding him good night. He rose. The General put the key in his left sleeve, went inside and closed the door. Both the young master and I heard him push the crossbar in its place. This is the complete truth!”

The judge gave a sign to the senior scribe. He read out his notes of the steward’s statement. The latter agreed that that was what he had said, and affixed his thumbmark.

Judge Dee dismissed the steward. He asked Candidate Ding:

“What did you do thereafter?”

Candidate Ding looked uncomfortable and hesitated to speak.

“Answer my question!” the judge barked.

“As a matter of fact,” Ding said reluctantly, “I got involved into a violent quarrel with my wife. I went straight to my own quarters and my wife accused me of not having shown her proper respect during dinner. She averred that I had made her lose face to the other ladies. I felt tired after the feast and did not say much in return. Sitting on the bed I drank a cup of tea while two maids helped my wife to undress. Then my wife complained of a headache and made one of the maids massage her shoulders for half an hour or so. Then we went to bed.”

Judge Dee rolled up the paper where he had jotted down his own notes. He said in a casual voice:

“I have found no evidence linking this crime with Woo.”

“I beseech Your Honour,” Candidate Ding cried, “to put the question to that murderer under torture! Then he will confess how he committed this foul crime!”

The judge rose and announced that the preliminary investigation was closed.

He walked back to the front courtyard without saying a word. As he ascended his palanquin Candidate Ding bowed deeply.

Once returned to the tribunal Judge Dee went straight to the jail. The warden informed him that Chien Mow was still unconscious.

The judge ordered him to have a physician called. He was to do all he could to revive Chien Mow. Then Judge Dee took Tao Gan and Sergeant Hoong to his private office.

As he sat down behind his desk the judge took from his sleeve the murderer’s dagger. He told the clerk to bring a pot of hot tea.

When they had drunk a cup the judge leaned back in his chair. Slowly stroking his beard he said:

“This is a most extraordinary murder. Apart from the motive and the murderer’s identity we are faced with two practical problems. First, how did the murderer enter and leave that sealed room? Second, how did he manage to thrust this queer weapon in his victim’s throat?”

Sergeant Hoong shook his head in perplexity. Tao Gan looked intently at the small dagger. Letting the three long hairs sprouting from his left cheek glide through his fingers he said slowly:

“For a moment, Your Honour, I thought that I had solved the problem. When I was roaming through the southern provinces I heard people tell stories about the savages that live in the mountains; they hunt with long blow pipes. I thought that this small blade with its weird tubular handle might have been shot from such a blow pipe, and reasoned that the murderer could have aimed it from outside through the grates in the wall.

“Then, however, I found that the angle at which this weapon entered the victim’s throat is wholly irreconcilable with this theory, unless the murderer had been sitting under the table! Moreover I found that right opposite the back-wall of the library there is another high, blind wall. Nobody could have placed a ladder there.”

Judge Dee slowly sipped his tea.

“I agree,” he said after a while, “that the blow-pipe theory is untenable. Yet I also agree with your point that this dagger was not stuck directly in the victim’s throat. The hilt is so small that even a child could not hold it.