The Chinese Maze Murders (20 page)

“I shall confess anything you like! But not now. I beseech Your Honour to send out your men now to save that girl! It may yet not be too late!”

Judge Dee shrugged his shoulders. He nodded to the constables. They dragged Woo up and led him back to the jail.

“Candidate Ding,” the judge spoke, “this is quite an unexpected development. Evidently it has nothing to do with Woo’s murdering your father. It is clear, however, that the accused is in no condition to be interrogated further.

“I here break off the hearing of your case. It will be continued in due time.”

The judge let his gavel descend on the bench. Then he rose and left the dais.

The crowd of spectators slowly filed out of the court hall, busily discussing amongst each other the exciting new developments.

While Judge Dee changed in his informal robe he ordered Sergeant Hoong to call Headman Fang.

Ma Joong and Tao Gan sat down on footstools by the side of the judge’s desk.

When the headman had entered Judge Dee said:

“Headman, this is a great shock for you. It is unfortunate that I did not show you that picture earlier, but I could not have surmised that it was in any way connected with your eldest daughter. However, this is the first definite indication of her whereabouts.”

While speaking the judge had taken up his vermilion brush and filled out three official forms.

“You will now,” he continued, “collect twenty armed constables and go immediately to that Hermitage of the Three Treasures. Ma Joong and Tao Gan shall direct you. They are the two best men I have, with great experience
in such work. These warrants will authorize you to enter and search every house in that quarter!”

The judge impressed the large seal of the tribunal on the documents and handed them to Ma Joong.

Ma Joong hastily stuffed them in his sleeve. Then all three rushed away.

Judge Dee ordered the clerk to bring a pot of hot tea. When he had drunk a cup he said to Sergeant Hoong:

“I am glad that the headman has at least some information about his missing daughter. Now it has come out that it was she who is depicted on Woo’s paintings, I realize that there is some resemblance to Fang’s youngest daughter, Dark Orchid. I ought to have noticed that immediately!”

“The only one who did see some resemblance, Your Honour,” the sergeant said slyly, “was our brave fighter Ma Joong!”

The judge smiled thinly.

“It would seem,” he said, “that Ma Joong observed Dark Orchid with more attention than you or I!”

Then the judge’s face set again in its usual stern mien. He said slowly:

“Heavens knows in what condition they will find that poor girl, if at all. If one translates the poetic description of our excitable artistic friend into everyday language, it is clear that on her visit to the temple White Orchid wore a common night robe. That means that she was kept imprisoned in a house quite near that temple, probably by some degenerate lecher. When he discovered that she had secretly left the house he may well have become afraid and killed her. Some day her body will be discovered in a dry well…”

“In the meantime,” Sergeant Hoong observed, “this does not bring us much nearer to the solution of the General’s murder. I fear that we shall have to put the question to Woo under torture.”

The judge did not react on the sergeant’s second remark. He said:

“I noticed one interesting fact. When during the session I mentioned a woman in the case both Woo and Ding turned pale; the latter was definitely afraid. As soon as Ding heard that it was the headman’s daughter, he was visibly relieved. This means that there is also a woman connected with the General’s murder. Evidently the same person as the one Ding wrote his passionate poetry to.”

A soft knock sounded on the door.

Sergeant Hoong rose and opened. Dark Orchid came in.

She bowed deeply before the judge and said:

“I could not find my father, Your Honour, so I made bold to come here alone to present my report.”

“You are most welcome, young woman!” Judge Dee said eagerly. “We were just discussing the Ding mansion. Tell me, do you know whether young master Ding spends much of his time outside?”

Dark Orchid emphatically shook her small head.

“No, Your Honour,” she replied, “the servants wish he would go out more. He hangs about in the house practically the entire day, snooping round and trying to catch them out in some mistake or omission. Once one of the maids even saw him late at night walking stealthily down a corridor. Probably he was checking up on whether the servants were gambling!”

“What was the reaction to my unexpected visit this morning?” the judge asked.

“I was in the young master’s room when a servant reported Your Honour’s arrival. He was sitting there drawing up an estimate of the costs of the funeral with his wife. The young master was very pleased that Your Honour had come again. He said to his wife: ‘Did I not tell you that that first investigation of father’s library was very superficial?

I am glad that the judge has come back, I feel certain that they overlooked many clues!’ His wife remarked sourly that he should not think that he was more clever than a magistrate and he hastily went out to welcome Your Honour.”

The judge silently sipped his tea. Then he said:

“Well, I am grateful to you for the work you have done. You have sharp ears and eyes! It is not necessary that you return to the Ding mansion. This afternoon we obtained some information about your elder sister, and your father has gone to search for her. Go to your quarters now; I hope sincerely that when your father comes back he will have good news!”

Dark Orchid hastily took her leave.

“It is curious,” Sergeant Hoong remarked, “that Candidate Ding did not often go out at night. One would expect that he had some secret love-nest where he met that unknown woman!”

Judge Dee nodded.

“On the other hand,” he said, “it may be an old affair that is long over and done with. Sentimental people have an unfortunate habit of keeping souvenirs of past affairs. Yet the originals that Dark Orchid showed me seemed written very recently. Did Tao Gan find any clue to the woman’s identity in those papers he copied out?”

“No,” Sergeant Hoong replied, “but Tao Gan certainly enjoyed that work! He copied the texts out in his best calligraphy, chuckling all the time.”

Judge Dee smiled indulgently. He rummaged among the piles of documents on his desk till he found Tao Gan’s copies, neatly written out on ornamental letter paper.

Leaning back in his armchair the judge started reading. After a while he said:

“Well, it is all about the same subject, expressed in different ways. Candidate Ding was deeply enamoured. As if
Poetry could serve no better purpose! Listen:

The studded door is locked, the bed curtains drawn close, Embroidered coverlets are a soft home of love; Who thinks of Rites and Proper Conduct in this trance? Empassioned lovers care not what the Codes impose. Her feet like lotus buds, her lips like pomegranate, Her rounded thighs, her breasts like fresh-fallen snow-Who ever deems the full moon marred by its spots? It’s the blemish that completes the beauty of agate. Who praises perfumes rare of the far-distant West? The fragrance of her limbs bemuses the enraptured mind He is a fool who with such beauty right before his eyes, Still travels far and wide, a useless quest…

The judge threw the paper disdainfully on his desk.

“It rhymes,” he remarked dryly, “that is about all that can be said for it!” He slowly smoothed his long beard.

Suddenly the judge stiffened. He picked up the sheet which he had been reading aloud and eagerly scanned it.

Sergeant Hoong knew that Judge Dee had made a discovery. He rose and looked over the judge’s shoulder.

Judge Dee crashed his fist on the table.

“Get me the testimony of the house steward, delivered during the preliminary hearing in the Ding mansion!” he ordered.

Sergeant Hoong fetched the leather box that contained the file of General Ding’s murder. He extricated a sealed document.

Judge Dee read it through from beginning to end.

Then he put it back in the box. He left his armchair and started pacing the floor.

“What incredible fools people in love are!” the judge suddenly exclaimed. “I have now found the solution of half the General’s murder. What a foul, despicable crime!”

Sixteenth Chapter

MA JOONG INVESTIGATES THE LICENSED QUARTER; HE IS MADE A PARTNER IN A NEFARIOUS SCHEME

T
HE
first nightwatch had sounded when Ma Joong, Tao Gan and Headman Fang gathered in the house of the warden of the eastern quarter. Their faces were tired and drawn in the light of the candles. They sat down silently at the square table.

They had combed out the entire quarter, in vain.

Ma Joong had divided the constables into three groups of seven. One group was headed by Tao Gan, one by Headman Fang, and the third by Ma Joong himself. They had entered the quarter in inconspicuous groups of two or three and by different ways. Under various pretexts these groups had made inquiries in shops and other public places, then they had entered private houses and conducted a thorough search.

The headman’s group broke up a secret meeting of thieves, Ma Joong dispersed a gambling party, and Tao Gan disturbed two frightened couples in a clandestine house of assignment. But not one trace of White Orchid was discovered.

Tao Gan closely questioned the woman who kept the house of assignment. He knew that if a girl is kidnapped and kept captive somewhere, such a woman will sooner or later come to know about it. However, half an hour of skilful questioning convinced Toa Gan that she knew nothing about White Orchid; he only learned one or three queer facts about certain leading citizens.

Finally they had to come out in the open and made a systematic search of every household, checking the inhabitants with the census register kept by the warden. But now they had to admit that the search had been a failure.

After a while Tao Gan said:

“There is but one possibility left, namely that the girl was held for a few days only in a house near here. When her captor discovered that she had made a secret trip to the temple, he became alarmed and moved her either to a secret assignment house elsewhere in the city, or placed her in a brothel.”

Headman Fang shook his head dejectedly.

“I don’t believe,” he said, “that they would have sold her to a brothel. We have lived here all our lives and they would run the risk that some visitor to the establishment would recognize her and inform me.

“A clandestine assignment house is the most likely place. But to check all those would take many days!”

“Did I not hear,” Ma Joong remarked, “that the so-called Northern Row, the licensed quarter in the northwest corner of the town, is rarely visited by Chinese?”

The headman nodded.

“That is a low-class place,” he replied, “used only by Uigurs, Turks and other barbarians from over the border. The girls are a motley crowd, left over from the prosperous days when this town was full of wealthy barbarian chieftains and traders from the western tributary kingdoms.”

Ma Joong rose and tightened his belt.

“I shall go there now,” he said curtly. “To avoid rousing suspicion, I shall go alone. I’ll meet you later tonight in the tribunal!”

Tao Gan had been tugging at the three hairs on his left cheek.

“That is a good idea,” he said pensively, “we had better
act quickly, for by tomorrow the news of this raid will be all over the town. I shall go now to the Southern Row and have a talk with the owners of the houses there. I am not very hopeful but we cannot afford to neglect even that possibility!”

The headman insisted that he should accompany Ma Joong.

“The scum of the city gathers in that Northern Row,” he said. “To go out there alone is asking to be murdered on the spot!”

“Don’t worry!” Ma Joong said, “I know how to handle those rascals!”

He threw his cap to Tao Gan and bound up his hair with a dirty strip of cloth. Then he tucked the slips of his robe in his girdle and rolled up his sleeves.

Cutting short the headman’s protestations Ma Joong walked out into the street.

In the main street there were still many people about. But Ma Joong made quick progress, all passers-by hastily made way when they saw this huge ruffian approaching.

When he had crossed the market of the Drum Tower he found himself in the quarter of the poor. Rows of low, tumble-down houses lined the narrow streets. Here and there a street vender had lighted his oil lamp. The wares on sale were cheap flour cakes and dregs of wine.

As he approached the Northern Row the scene became more lively. People in queer foreign attire were loitering about the wine shops, talking loudly in raucous, strange languages. They gave Ma Joong but a casual look. Here his disreputable figure was a common sight.

Turning a corner he saw a row of houses garishly lighted by coloured lanterns of oil paper. He heard barbarian guitars being strummed and farther on the strident tones of a flute tore the air.