The Lacquer Screen: A Chinese Detective Story (Judge Dee Mystery)

by Robert Van Gulik

  Judge Dee was taken aback by this sudden outburst He did not quite know what to say. The girl went on in a bitter voice:

  ‘Since you don't belong to us, why come and spy on us? Why spy on the Corporal, a fine fellow who trusts you completely? To laugh and joke about us later when you're back with your own people, I suppose?’

  Angry tears had come into her eyes.

  ‘You are right,’ the judge said quietly, ‘I am indeed acting a part. But certainly not as a cheap joke. I am an official engaged in a criminal investigation, and you and the Corporal, without knowing it, are giving me exactly the assistance I had been hoping for when I assumed my role. As to me not belonging to you, there you are completely wrong. I have sworn to serve the state and the people, and that includes the Prefect's First Lady as well as you, the Prime Minister as well as your Corporal. We, the great Chinese people, all belong to each other, Carnation. That is our eternal glory, and that makes us, the cultured people of the Middle Kingdom, different from the uncouth barbarians of the rest of the world, who hate and devour each other like wild beasts. Am I making myself clear?’

  The girl nodded, somewhat mollified, and wiped her face with her sleeve.

  ‘Another thing’ Judge Dee went on. ‘Let me assure you that I think you are a very attractive woman, you have a sweet face and a splendid figure. If I didn't happen to have a lot of other things on my mind just now, I would be very happy indeed if you would grant me your favours!’

  ‘It probably isn't true’ Carnation said with a thin smile, ‘but it sounds nice anyway. You do look tired. Lie down and I'll fan you!’

  Judge Dee stretched himself out on the soft mat. The girl let the robe slip down from her shoulders, took the palm-leaf fan that hung in a corner of the bedstead, and started to fan him. Before he knew it he was sound asleep.

  When he woke up he saw Carnation standing fully dressed in front of the bed.

  ‘You had a good nap,’ she said, ‘and I had a good talk downstairs. The woman paid me a decent commission, too. I'll use that for buying myself a present from you!’

  ‘How long have I slept? ‘Judge Dee asked anxiously.

  ‘A couple of hours. The woman downstairs remarked that you must be an ardent lover. She also told me that the couple came here twice, just like old Drip-eye said. She was a slight woman, but very distinguished, quite a lady. The young man was also of good family, but he didn't seem very strong; he was suffering from a bad cough. He paid handsomely. The woman also said that both times the couple had been followed.’

  ‘How do you mean, followed?’

  ‘Right into this house and this room! Both times another fellow came in shortly after the couple had gone upstairs, and paid a round sum for using the peep-hole up in the bedstead there.’

  ‘Who was that man? ‘the judge asked tensely.

  ‘Did you expect him to leave his visiting-card? The woman downstairs said he was tall and thin. He had pulled his neck-cloth over his face up to his eyes, so she couldn't see what he looked like, and his voice was muffled. But she's sure he was an educated man, with a certain air of authority about him. And he walked with a limp.’

  Judge Dee remained standing still, with his robe in his hands. That could have been no one else but Teng's counsellor, Pan Yoo-te! Silently he put on his robe, assisted by Carnation. When he had wound the sash round his waist and put on his cap, he felt in his sleeve and said, somewhat diffidently:

  ‘I am deeply grateful for your excellent help. Allow me to offer you a…’

  ‘The information was gratis, for nothing!’ the girl interrupted him curtly. ‘But I wouldn't mind your taking me here again, some other day. I am sure you could keep a girl quite agreeably occupied—when your mind isn't on other things, at least. Then you can pay me sixty coppers, and a hundred if you want to make a night of it. That's my regular price when I work outside.’

  She went to the door. Downstairs the madame was waiting for them, and obsequiously escorted them to the door.

  In the street the judge said to the girl:

  ‘I'll have to go to the north quarter now. I'll see you again at the inn, at meal time.’

  She gave him a few directions about the road north, then they parted.

  XII

  This time Judge Dee entered the tribunal by the main gate. He gave his red card, reading ‘Shen Mo, Commission Agent’, to one of the guards, together with a small tip, and asked him to have it brought to Counsellor Pan. Soon a clerk came and led him past the chancery to Pan Yoo-te's office.

  Pan pushed a pile of official documents aside and bade Judge Dee sit down opposite him. He poured a cup of tea from the large pot on his desk, then began, with a harried look on his face:

  ‘You'll have no doubt heard the terrible news, Mr Shen! The magistrate is nearly distracted with grief. I am really worried about him. This morning he suddenly had the banker Leng Chien arrested, you know. And Leng is one of our prominent citizens. The whole town is talking about it! I do hope that the magistrate didn't make a mistake.…Everything goes wrong today! There couldn't be an autopsy, as our coroner had left town without even informing us! And the man is always so punctilious!’ He suddenly remembered his manners and asked quickly: ‘I trust you had a pleasant day, Mr Shen? Did you visit the Temple of the City God? It was rather hot this afternoon, I fear, but I hope____’

  ‘I did visit a very curious place,’ the judge cut him short, ‘in the second street to the left of the west gate.’

  He closely watched Pan's face, but it was completely blank.

  ‘The second street?’ Pan repeated. ‘Oh, now I know! You've made a slight mistake. It's the third street you mean, of course! Yes, that old Buddhist chapel there is quite unusual; it's very old, you know. It was founded three hundred years ago by an Indian priest who…’

  Judge Dee let him tell the entire story without interrupting him. He thought that, if it had been Pan who had spied on the couple, he certainly was a consummate actor. When Pan had concluded his historical dissertation, the judge said:

  ‘I mustn't take too much of your time. Mrs Teng's murder is keeping you very busy, of course. Is there any clue to the murderer yet?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ Pan replied. ‘But then the magistrate may know more. He keeps the investigation entirely in his own hands, quite understandably, of course, seeing that the victim was his own wife! A tragedy, a terrible tragedy, Mr Shen!’

  ‘It will be very sad news for all their friends,’ Judge Dee remarked. ‘Since Mrs Teng was a poetess, I assume that she belonged to some literary ladies' circle here?’

  ‘I can see,’ Pan said with a smile, ‘that you don't know the Tengs very well! They went out very little, you know. The magistrate took part in all official functions, of course, but apart from that he kept very much to himself; he doesn't have any particular friend among the gentry here. He takes the view that a magistrate ought to be completely impartial and have no local attachments. And Mrs Teng hardly went out at all. She only used to spend a few days regularly with her widowed sister. The husband was a wealthy landowner; he died young, when he was thirty-five and she just thirty. He left her that splendid country house outside the north gate. The air there did Mrs Teng a lot of good. The maids said she always looked so cheerful and well when she came back from there. And she needed it this time too, for the last couple of weeks she had been in bad health and looked very pale and sad…. And now she is dead!’

  After a suitable pause Judge Dee decided he would try another direct attack. He said casually:

  ‘Today I happened to see in a shop a painting by one of the local artists, called Leng Te. They said he knew Mrs Teng well.’

  Old Pan looked astonished for a moment. But then he said:

  ‘I didn't know that, but it's very likely, now I come to think of it. The painter was a distant relative of the dead landowner, he also visited the country house of Mrs Teng's elder sister frequently. Yes, he must have met Mrs Teng there, of course. A pity he died so young
, for he was a gifted artist. His pictures of birds and flowers were excellent. He specialized in lotus flowers, in quite an original style, too.’

  The judge thought that this was getting him nowhere at all. He had learned where the lovers could have met, but he hadn't come one step nearer to the main issue, the identity of the mysterious third person involved. And the madame's description seemed to point directly at Pan: tall but thin, the air of authority, the limp.…He decided to make a last attempt. Leaning forward, he said in a low, confidential voice:

  ‘Yesterday you told me much about the historical sites of this city, Mr Pan. Now those are very interesting for daytime. But after dark the thoughts of a lonely traveller naturally turn to, ah…more recent art, more tangible beauty, one might say. Doubtless there are a few places here where charming damsels…’

  ‘I have neither the inclination nor the leisure for frivolous entertainment’ Pan interrupted him stiffly. ‘Hence I am unable to give you any information on that particular subject.’ Then, remembering that, after all, this vulgar fellow had come with an introduction from the Prefect, he added with a forced smile: ‘I married rather young, you see, and I have two wives, eight sons and four daughters.’

  Judge Dee reflected ruefully that this truly impressive record definitely disposed of the possibility that old Pan was a pervert The mysterious visitor had to be another person, as yet unknown. Perhaps Mrs Teng's writings would supply a clue. He emptied his teacup, then resumed:

  ‘Although as a simple merchant I don't claim to understand much of literature, I always read the magistrate's poetry with great admiration. I never saw, however, an edition of his wife's collected poems. Could you tell me where I could find one?’

  Pan pursed his lips.

  ‘That's difficult!’ he replied. ‘Mrs Teng was a woman of a most sensitive disposition, and of extreme modesty. The magistrate told me that he had often tried to persuade her to have her work published, but she always resolutely refused, so that he had to give up in despair.’

  ‘That's a pity,’ Judge Dee said, ‘I would have liked to read her poetry, to enable me to say a few sympathetic things to the magistrate about it, when I go to offer him my condolences.’

  ‘Well,’ Pan said, ‘perhaps I can help you. Last week Mrs Teng sent me a copy-book containing her poems, written out by herself. She added a note asking me to verify whether there were mistakes in some references to the historical sites of Wei-ping. I'll have to return the manuscript to the magistrate soon, but if you want, you can have a look at it now.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Judge Dee exclaimed. ‘I'll just sit down with it over by the window there, so that you can get on with your work!’

  Pan opened a drawer and took out a bulky volume bound in plain blue paper. The judge went over to the armchair in front of the window.

  First he quickly leafed through the volume. It was written in the same neat hand as the second couplet of the poem he had seen in the house of assignation, with only some minor differences. These could, of course, be explained by the fact that the copy-book had been written out carefully in the quiet library, while the couplet was jotted down during a secret rendezvous.

  Then he began to read the poems, from the beginning. Soon he found himself completely captivated by this truly magnificent poetry. Judge Dee took the narrow Confucianist view that the only poetry worthy of the name served either an ethical or didactic purpose. In his youth he himself had written a long poem on the importance of agriculture. He had little interest in verses that were just lyrical effusions or that recorded only fleeting moods. But he had to admit that Mrs Teng's masterful command of the language and her original imagery lent her poetry a compelling beauty. She had the gift of the adjective; as a rule she used only one to define a mood or scene, but that one word summed up all the essential features. Some of the striking similes he remembered having encountered in the magistrate's published poetry also, evidently the pair had worked together very closely.

  He put the volume in his lap and sat there staring at nothing, pensively caressing his side-whiskers. Pan shot him an astonished look but the judge did not notice it. He asked himself how it could be possible that a great poetess, a refined, sensitive woman, happily married to a husband with whom she shared the same interests, could ever become an adulteress. That a woman whose delicate sentiments were so convincingly recorded in her poetry, could ever stoop to the sordidness of secret meetings in a bawdy house—the smirking madame, the sly tips—it seemed utterly incredible. A sudden, passionate affair with a rough-and-ready youngster, violent and brief—such a thing might not be wholly impossible. Women were strange creatures. But the young painter had been the same type of man as her own husband, with the same interests. He angrily tugged at his moustache. It didn't fit at all.

  Suddenly he remembered the slight differences in the handwriting. Could it be that the woman who secretly met the painter was not Mrs Teng, but her elder sister, the young widow? She had worn Mrs Teng's earrings and bracelets, but sisters often lend each other their trinkets. The painter had been a distant relative, so the young widow had had even more opportunities for meeting him than had Mrs Teng. Moreover, there were two other sisters. He asked Pan:

  ‘Tell me, are Mrs Teng's other sisters also living in the country house outside the north gate?’

  ‘As far as I know,’ Pan replied, ‘there's only one sister there, Mr Shen, and that is the landowner's widow.’

  The judge returned the volume to him. ‘Excellent poetry!’ he commented. He now felt sure that the young widow had been Leng Te's paramour. Of course her handwriting would resemble closely that of Mrs Teng. When they were still young girls they would have been taught by the same private tutor. Probably the elder sister had planned to marry the painter as soon as the years of mourning prescribed by the rites had passed. Their secret meetings were of course utterly wrong, but that was no concern of his. Neither was he interested in the depraved taste of the mysterious man who had spied on the couple. He had been wrong. He rose with a sigh and asked Pan to announce him to the magistrate.

  When Judge Dee was seated with Magistrate Teng at the table in his library, he said:

  ‘Tomorrow we'll leave here for the prefectural city, Teng. I did my best, but I have failed to discover the slightest indication that my theory about an intruder being implicated in the death of your wife was correct. You were right, it would indeed have been too much of a coincidence. I am sorry, Teng. Tonight I shall try to evolve a plausible explanation for Mrs Teng's body having been found in the marsh, and I shall take full responsibility for the delay in reporting the tragedy to the Prefect.’

  Teng nodded gravely. He said:

  ‘I deeply appreciate all you have done for me, Dee! It is I who must apologize for the trouble I put you to, and that on your holiday! Your presence in itself is a great comfort to me. Your sympathetic understanding and readiness to help are things I shan't easily forget, Dee.’

  The judge was touched. Teng would have been fully justified in showering reproaches on him, for he had tampered with evidence and retarded a murder investigation. Moreover, he had given Teng idle hopes. It flashed through his mind that he was glad indeed he had sent the coroner away with a faked message. In this hot weather decomposition would have so far advanced by now that a detailed autopsy would be impossible. Thus Teng would fortunately never know what he had done before killing his wife. Judge Dee still thought it very strange, but one really knew very little about the vagaries of a sick mind. He said:

  ‘I hope you'll give me a chance to try to make myself useful in another respect, Teng. Namely, in the case of Ko Chih-yuan's demise. I expect that you'll say you are sick and tired of my theories, but the fact is that I happened to stumble on some rather interesting ramifications of that case. The banker Leng Chien is involved in it He confessed to me that he had been swindling Ko for large amounts. That is why I sent you the message asking you to have him arrested. I just heard that you complied with my request at once. I
am really quite embarrassed by your confidence in my slender abilities, Teng! But I trust that in this case at least I shan't disappoint you!’

  The magistrate passed his hand over his eyes with a weary gesture.

  ‘That's true!’ he said, ‘I had quite forgotten about that case!’

  ‘Today you won't feel like going into that further, I suppose. You would really do me a favour if you would allow me to conduct an investigation, together with your counsellor.’

  ‘By all means!’ Teng replied. ‘You are perfectly right in thinking that I couldn't give that complicated case the attention it deserves. I can't think of anything but our interview with the Prefect tomorrow. You are really very thoughtful, Dee!’