He gave the box to Ma Joong, who looked at it appraisingly and remarked, ‘Just the right size for keeping visiting-cards in.’ Then he brought the box closer to his eyes. ‘Pity there are a few scratches on the cover. Some fool tried to scribble the word “entrance” here on one side of the disc. And on the opposite side he tried to write something like “below”. Let me have it this morning, sir. After the session I’ll take it to a cabinet worker I know near the south gate. He’ll polish the cover nicely.’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea. What are you looking at?’
Ma Joong had casually opened the box. Now he was scrutinizing the inside of the cover.
‘There’s a small scrap of paper stuck on here,’ he muttered.
‘That’ll be the price-tag,’ the judge said. ‘Peel it off, will you?’
His lieutenant put his thumbnail under a corner of the paper. Suddenly he looked up.
‘No, this isn’t a price-tag, sir. I see two lines in reversed writing, and in red ink. Good, it comes off. Now we can turn it over. Clumsily written. I can’t make out what it says.’
He handed the tiny scrap to the judge, who raised his tufted eyebrows and read aloud:
‘I am dying of hunger and thirst, please come and get me out. Jade. The twelfth day of the ninth month, the year of the Snake.’
The judge looked up, annoyed. ‘Why paste such a silly thing on the cover of this box?’
JUDGE DEE SHOWS A BIRTHDAY PRESENT
‘Perhaps it is no joke, sir!’ Ma Joong said excitedly. ‘A girl called Jade, that must be a nice wench! She was kidnapped, of course!’
Sergeant Hoong smiled indulgently. He was well acquainted with Ma Joong’s amorous disposition. He said quietly, ‘You are always ready to rush to the rescue of damsels in distress, Brother Ma. But this is evidently only a scrap torn from the page of a romantic novel, or a play.’
‘Nonsense!’ Ma Joong said peevishly. ‘The poor wench wrote it with her own blood, then put it in this box and threw it out of the window of the room she was kept captive in. The writing was still wet, and when the box rolled over after it hit the ground, the scrap got stuck to the cover. It happened nearly a year ago, but that’s no reason why we should let the scoundrels who let her starve to death get away with it!’ Turning to the judge, he asked eagerly, ‘What do you think, sir?’
Judge Dee had smoothed the scrap out on his desk and was examining it, tugging at his sidewhiskers. He looked up.
‘Your reasoning is quite clever, Ma Joong. However, I agree with the sergeant. If this were a genuine message of distress, then …’ He turned his eyes to the door. ‘Come in!’
The headman entered and saluted smartly. A pleased grin creased his coarse face, surrounded by a stubbly chinbeard.
‘I beg to report that I have just arrested a murderer, Your Honour. A vagabond called Ah-liu. He killed a local bully last night after a quarrel in-‘
‘Yes, the scribe told me already. Good work, headman! I shall hear the case presently, during the morning session. Were there witnesses?’
‘Plenty, sir! The innkeeper, two gamblers, and-‘ ‘Good. See that they are present in court.’ After the headman had left, Judge Dee rose. He picked up the ebony box and regarded it pensively, weighing it on the palm of his hand. Then he put it in his sleeve. ‘We shall pursue the matter of the queer message in this box a bit farther,’ he told his two lieutenants. ‘We have an hour or so left before the session begins. No matter what the message is, it has spoilt the auspicious atmosphere that must surround a birthday present. So I shall go back to the curio-dealer anyway, to select another present. I shall then ask him when and how he came by that box. You go to the chancery, Sergeant. Verify in the files on missing persons whether in the ninth month of the year of the Snake a woman called Jade was reported as having disappeared. You, Ma Joong, shall accompany me to the curio-shop. It’s only a short distance; we’ll walk.’
Chapter 3
When Judge Dee and Ma Joong descended the broad steps at the tribunal’s main gate, they saw that the main thoroughfare leading to the southern city gate was quite crowded already, notwithstanding the early hour and the muggy heat. The slender spire of the pagoda in the Lotus Lake was only vaguely visible through the humid haze that hung over the city.
The judge walked ahead. Nobody recognized him as the magistrate, for he was still wearing his simple blue robe, and had exchanged his high official headdress of black gauze for a small skull-cap. Ma Joong, who was following close behind him, wore the uniform of an officer of the tribunal: a brown robe with black belt and borders, and a flat black cap.
After they had gone some way, Ma Joong suddenly halted in his steps. A few paces away a pair of large, burning eyes were fixing him with an intense, unwavering stare. He got a brief glimpse of a pale, handsome face, partly concealed by the piece of cloth the woman wore over her head, Tartar fashion. She seemed unusually tall. Just as he was going to ask what she wanted, two coolies carrying a large wooden box on their shoulders came between them. When they had passed, the woman had become lost in the crowd.
Judge Dee turned round to him and pointed at the high roof of the Temple of Confucius ahead. ‘The shop is on the corner of the second side-street behind the temple, on the right.’ Then, seeing Ma Joong’s bewildered face, he asked, ‘What is wrong with you?’
‘I just saw a most extraordinary woman, sir. She had uncommonly large eyes, and-‘
‘I wish you wouldn’t always stare at every female person you meet!’ the judge told him peevishly. ‘Come along, we haven’t much time!’
In the narrow side-street behind the temple less people were about. An agreeable coolness greeted them when they had gone inside the small, semi-dark curio-shop. An old man with an untidy long beard came hurriedly up to the counter when he recognized the judge.
‘Is there anything else I can do for Your Excellency?’ he croaked with a toothless smile.
‘When I came here this morning,’ Judge Dee replied, ‘I forgot that I also wanted a nice piece of jade. A pair of bracelets, or a long hairpin, perhaps.’
The dealer took a square tray from under the counter.
‘Here Your Excellency will find a choice collection.’
The judge rummaged among the pieces of jewelry. He selected a pair of antique bracelets of white jade, carved into the shape of plumblossom sprigs. Putting them aside, he inquired the price.
‘One silver piece. A special price for a special customer!’
‘I’ll take them. By the way, could you tell me perhaps where you got the ebony box I bought? I always like to know the provenance of the antiques I buy, you see.’
The old man pushed his skull-cap back and scratched his grey head.
‘Where did I get it now? Allow me to look it up in my register, noble lord! One moment, please!’
‘Why didn’t you beat the price down, sir?’ Ma Joong asked, indignant. ‘One whole silver piece! One wonders how the old rascal keeps alive!’
‘The bracelets are worth it. And I am sure my First Lady will like them.’
The curio-dealer emerged from the back of the shop. He placed a dog-eared volume on the counter. Pointing with a spidery forefinger at an entry, he mumbled:
‘Yes, here I have it! I bought the box four months ago, from Mr Lee Ko.’
‘Who is that?’ the judge asked curtly.
‘Well, Lee Ko is what you might call a minor painter, Excellency. He specializes in landscapes. Paints landscapes all day, more of them than people care to buy! Who wants to buy new landscapes, I ask you, my lord? Pictures of mountains that you can see gratis everyday, right outside our city! If it was antique pictures now, then …’
‘Where does Mr Lee live?’
‘Not far from here, Excellency. In the street next to the Bell Tower. An old, rambling house, sir! Yes, now I remember! The box was in a basket of old junk Mr Lee wanted to dispose of. All covered with mud, it was. If Mr Lee had seen that fine piece of green jade on the cover …’ His
toothless mouth broadened in a sly grin. But then he added quickly: ‘I paid a fair price for the lot, Excellency! Mr Lee’s brother owns a gold- and silver-shop, not too big, but … I want to stay on the right side of the Lee family, sir. I might do business with Mr Lee Mai, some day …’
‘If Lee Ko has a well-to-do elder brother, why then is he living in poverty?’ Judge Dee asked.
The other shrugged his thin shoulders.
‘They had a quarrel last year, people say. Your Excellency knows how it is nowadays, the people don’t understand any more that fathers and sons, elder and younger brothers should always keep together. I always say-‘
‘Quite. Here is the money. No, you needn’t wrap them up.’
The judge put the jade bracelets in his sleeve. When they were outside he said to Ma Joong, ‘It’s only a ten minutes’ walk to the Bell Tower. Since we have pursued our inquiries this far, we had better call on Mr Lee Ko.’
They crossed the main thoroughfare again and walked round the raised platform of the Bell Tower. The bronze surface of the huge bell suspended from the red-lacquered rafters shone dully. It was beaten every morning, to rouse the citizens at daybreak. An obliging water carrier directed them to a barrack-like wooden house in a narrow back street, apparently inhabited by small shopkeepers.
The front door was of plain boards, the cracks here and there clumsily repaired. The windows flanking the door were shuttered.
‘Lee’s house doesn’t look very prosperous,’ Judge Dee commented as he rapped his knuckles on the door.
‘He should’ve become a curio-dealer!’ said Ma Joong sourly.
They heard the sound of heavy footsteps. A crossbar was removed and the door swung open.
The tall, slovenly dressed man suddenly stepped back. ‘Who … what …?’ he stammered. Evidently he had been expecting only a tradesman. Judge Dee quietly took in the other’s lean face with its small black moustache and large, alert eyes. His long brown gown, stained with paint, hung loosely about him; his black velvet cap was threadbare.
‘Are you Mr Lee Ko, the painter?’ Judge Dee asked politely. And when the other nodded silently, he went on, ‘I am magistrate Dee, and this is my assistant, Ma Joong.’ Noticing that Lee’s face grew pale, he resumed affably, ‘This is quite an informal visit, Mr Lee! I am interested in landscape painting, you see, and I have heard that you are an expert. When my morning walk took me to this neighbourhood, I decided on the spur of the moment to drop in and have a look at your work.’
‘A great honour, sir! A great honour indeed!’ Lee said quickly. Then his face fell. ‘Unfortunately, my house is in a terrible state just now. My assistant didn’t come home last night. He always cleans up for me, you see. If Your Excellency could come perhaps after …’
‘I don’t mind a bit!’ the judge interrupted him jovially and stepped inside the dark hall.
The painter took them to a large, low-ceilinged room at the back, dimly lit by two broad windows pasted over with soiled tissue-paper. He pushed a ramshackle high-backed chair up to the table on trestles in the centre, and offered Ma Joong a bamboo tabouret.
When Lee went to the wall table to prepare tea, Judge Dee glanced casually at the litter of rolls of paper and silk and vases of paint brushes on the table. The paint in the small platters had dried to a cracked crust, and a thin film of dust covered the inkslab. The painter had apparently just taken his breakfast, for on the end of the table stood a cracked bowl of rice gruel, and beside it lay a piece of oil-paper with a small quantity of pickles on it.
Against the wall on the left hung dozens of landscape paintings, all done in black and white. Some of them the judge thought quite impressive. When he turned to gaze at the scrolls displayed on the wall opposite, however, he frowned. All those pictures represented Buddhist deities. Not the serene, beautiful gods and goddesses of older Buddhism, but the half-naked, fierce-looking demons of the later esoteric school. Terrifying figures with many heads and arms, monstrous faces, rolling eyes and wide-open mouths, wearing garlands of severed human heads. Some were clasping their female counterparts in their arms. These pictures were executed in full colours, with a liberal use of gold and green.
When Lee had put two teacups on the table, the judge remarked, ‘I like your landscapes, Mr Lee. They aim at achieving the grand manner of our ancient masters.’
The painter looked pleased.
‘I love landscapes, sir. In spring and autumn I make long trips in the mountains to the north and east of our city. I don’t think there’s one peak in this district which I haven’t climbed! In my paintings I try to render the essence of the scenes of nature I have seen.’
Judge Dee nodded with approval. He turned round and pointed at the religious paintings.
‘Why should a high-minded artist like you stoop to those barbarian horrors?’
Lee sat down on a bamboo bench in front of the window. Smiling thinly, he replied, ‘Landscapes don’t keep my rice-bowl full, sir! But there’s a big demand for those Buddhist scrolls among the Tartar and Uigur population of this city. As you know, these people believe in that disgusting new creed that teaches that the intercourse of man and woman is a replica of the mating of Heaven and Earth and a means of reaching salvation. The devotees identify themselves with those fierce gods and their female counterparts. Their ritual includes-‘
Judge Dee raised his hand.
‘I know all about those abominable excesses, committed under the cloak of religion. They lead to lechery and dark crimes. When I was serving as magistrate of Han-yuan I had to deal with several disgusting murders committed in a Taoist monastery where that ritual was secretly followed.* (* See The Haunted Monastery, London 1963.) Whether the Buddhists took this ritual over from the Taoists or vice versa, I don’t know and I care less.’ He angrily tugged at his beard. Then he gave the painter a sharp look. ‘You don’t mean to say that those awful rites are still being practised here in this district?’
‘Oh no, sir. Not any more. Eight or ten years ago, however, the Temple of the Purple Clouds, on the hill just outside the east city gate, belonged to that sect, and many Tartar and other barbarian Buddhists from over the border went to worship there. But then the authorities stepped in and the monks and nuns had to leave. The Buddhists of this city, however, still cling to that faith. They buy these pictures to hang above their house altars. They firmly believe that those fierce gods protect them against all evil and ensure long life and many sons.’
‘Silly superstitions!’ the judge said with disdain. ‘The original teaching of the Buddha contains many a lofty thought. I myself, being an orthodox Confucianist, as you are too, I trust, Mr Lee-don’t hold with Buddhist idolatry in any form. I would like to order a landscape from you. I have long wanted to have in my library a painting of the border region, suggesting the contrast between the mountains and the wide, open plain, and I would be very pleased if you would do that for me. I shall also gladly recommend you to my acquaintances. On condition, however, that you stop doing those repulsive Buddhist pictures!’
‘I gladly obey your orders, sir!’
‘Good!’ Judge Dee took the ebony box from his sleeve. Putting it on the table, he asked, ‘Did this box formerly belong to your collection?’
He watched the painter’s face eagerly but Lee only showed blank astonishment.
‘No, never saw it before, sir. There are dozens of them in the market, of course. The local cabinet workers make them from left-over pieces of ebony, and people buy them for keeping their seals or visiting-cards in. But I have never seen such a nice antique specimen. And if I had seen it, I wouldn’t have been able to buy it!’
Judge Dee put the box back into his sleeve. ‘Does your brother never buy pictures from you?’ he asked casually.
Lee’s face fell. He replied curtly, ‘My brother is a businessman. He has no interest in art and despises all artists.’
‘Do you live here all alone with your assistant?’
‘Yes sir. I hate the bother of kee
ping a regular household. Yang-that’s the name of my man-is a capable fellow. He’s a student of literature who couldn’t take part in the final examination because of lack of funds. He does the house and he also helps me prepare paint and so on. Pity you can’t meet him.’ Seeing that the judge was rising, he resumed quickly, ‘May I pour you another cup of tea, sir? It isn’t often that I have the advantage of conversing with such a famous scholar and-‘
‘I am sorry, Mr Lee, but I have to return to the tribunal now. Thank you for the tea. And don’t forget about that painting of the border scene!’
Lee respectfully conducted them to the door.
‘That slick artist is a damned liar, sir!’ Ma Joong burst out when they were walking down the street. ‘The old geezer in the curio-shop was sure he had bought the box from Lee. And he doesn’t make any mistakes about his business. Not he!’
‘At first,’ Judge Dee said slowly, ‘Lee impressed me rather favourably. Later, however, I wasn’t so sure.’ He halted. ‘While I am going on to the tribunal, you might as well ask in a shop or so around here what they think of Lee. And also ask about that assistant of his. Just to round out the picture, so to speak.’
Ma Joong nodded.
He saw only one prominent shop-sign in the narrow alley. It proclaimed in large letters that there gauze fine as gossamer was cut accurately to measure. The tailor was rolling up a bolt of silk. In the rear of the shop four elderly women were gathered round a long, narrow table, busy stitching and embroidering. The tailor greeted Ma Joong civilly enough. But his face fell when he asked whether he knew the painter.
‘As poor as a starving rat!’ he said disgustedly. ‘I see him pass by here occasionally, but he has never yet bought a stitch of clothing! And that assistant of his, he’s just a tramp. Keeps irregular hours, and associates with all kinds of hoodlums. He often rouses this decent, quiet neighbourhood when he comes home singing and shouting, as drunk as a lord!’
The Phantom Of The Temple Page 2
