Murder in Canton: A Judge Dee Mystery

by Robert Van Gulik

  The Governor made a bow, then spoke formally:

  ‘In accordance with Your Excellency's instructions, I have summoned here Mr Liang Foo and Mr Yau Tai-kai. Mr Liang is one of the wealthiest merchants of this city, he…’

  ‘Is he a member of the clan of Liang that was nearly decimated by that infamous ninefold murder?’ the judge interrupted. ‘I dealt with that case fourteen years ago, when I was magistrate of Poo-yang.’

  ‘One of Your Excellency's most famous cases!’ the Governor said suavely. ‘It is still talked about here in Canton, with gratitude and admiration! No, this Mr Liang belongs to quite a different clan. He is the only son of the late Admiral Liang.’

  ‘An illustrious family,’ Judge Dee remarked. Unfolding his fan, he went on, “The Admiral was a valorous soldier and a great strategist. The “Subduer of the South Seas”, he was called. I met him only once, but I well remember his extraordinary appearance. A squat, broad-shouldered man, with a flat, rather ugly face—a low forehead and high cheekbones. But once you had seen those piercing eyes you knew that you were in the presence of a truly great man!’ He tugged at his moustache, then asked, ‘Why didn't his son continue the family tradition?’

  ‘Bad health made him unfit for a military career, sir. Which is a pity, for he has inherited his father's strategical talents, as evinced by his acumen in administering his vast commercial interests. And, in a minor manner, by his rare skill in the game of chess! Mr Liang is the chess champion of this province.’ The Governor coughed behind his hand and continued, ‘Of course a man of Mr Liang's breeding doesn't stoop to direct ah…association with the barbarian traders. But he keeps himself informed about all the broader issues. Mr Yau Tai-kai, on the other hand, has close contacts with the foreign merchants, mainly Arabs and Persians. He doesn't mind; he comes from a rather er…modest family, and is a broadminded, easy-going fellow. I thought that Mr Liang and Mr Yau would be able to present to Your Excellency a reasonably complete picture of the trade situation in my territory.’

  ‘It's a big city,’ the judge remarked casually. ‘One would think that it harboured more experts on foreign trade than just these two.’

  The Governor darted a quick look at him. He said quietly:

  ‘Foreign trade is highly organized, sir. Has to be, seeing that it is partly state controlled. It's these two gentlemen who pull the strings.’

  Chiao Tai came forward and said: ‘I heard that a sea captain called Nee also is considered an expert in this field. His ships ply between Canton and Arab ports.’

  ‘Nee?’ the Governor asked. He cast a questioning look at the Prefect. Pao slowly pulled at his wispy goatee, then said vaguely:

  ‘Oh yes! The captain is well known in shipping circles. But it seems that he has been staying ashore the last three years or so, and is leading a rather er…dissolute life.’

  ‘I see,’ Judge Dee said. And to the Governor, ‘Well, let the two gentlemen you mentioned come in.’

  The Governor gave an order to the Prefect, then ascended the dais and stood at Judge Dee's right hand. Pao came back leading two men across the hall, one of small stature, very thin, the other tall, with a large paunch. When they were kneeling in front of the dais the Prefect introduced the first as the merchant Liang Foo, his portly companion as Mr Yau Tai-kai.

  The judge told them to rise. He saw that Liang Foo had a pale, rather cold face with a jet-black, silky moustache and thin goatee. His curved eyebrows and unusually long lashes gave the upper half of his face a nearly feminine air. He wore a long, olive-green robe; on his head a black gauze cap indicated that he possessed a literary degree. Mr Yau evidently was quite a different type; he had a cheerful round face, adorned by a bristling moustache and a neatly trimmed ring-beard. Tiny wrinkles surrounded his large bovine eyes. He was puffing slightly, and perspiration pearled on his florid face. His ceremonial dress of heavy brown brocade was apparently bothering him.

  Judge Dee said a few polite words, then began to question Liang Foo on the trade situation. Liang spoke excellent standard Chinese and his answers were very much to the point. He seemed unusually clever and displayed the easy poise of a born gentleman. Judge Dee learned to his dismay that the Arab colony in Canton was larger than he had thought; Liang said that there were about ten thousand of them spread over the city and suburbs. He added, however, that their number fluctuated with the season, for both Arab and Chinese captains had to wait in Canton for the winter monsoon before taking their ships to Annam and Malaya. Then they went on to Ceylon, and from there sailed across the Indian Ocean to the Persian Gulf. Mr Liang said that the Arab and Persian junks were capable of carrying five hundred men, the Chinese vessels even more.

  Then it was Mr Yau's turn. He seemed overawed by the exalted company, and at first tended to bluster. But when he came to a description of his business, Judge Dee soon understood that he was an uncommonly shrewd man with a good grasp of financial problems. When Yau had completed a list of the products imported by various Arab merchants, the judge remarked:

  ‘I can't understand how you manage to tell all those foreigners apart. To me they all look alike! It must be rather distressing to associate daily with those uncultured barbarians!’

  Yau shrugged his round shoulders.

  ‘In business one has to take things as one finds them, Excellency! And a few Arabs have acquired a smattering of Chinese culture. Take Mansur, the leader of the Arab community, for instance. He speaks our language fluently, and he entertains well. I have an early dinner appointment at his place tonight, as a matter of fact.’

  The judge noticed that he shifted uneasily on his feet, and seemed eager to take his leave. He said:

  ‘Many thanks for your valuable information, Mr Yau. You may go now. Take Colonel Chiao with you to that Arab party; it will be an interesting experience for him.’ He beckoned Chiao Tai and told him in an undertone, ‘Find out how the Arabs are distributed over the city, and keep your ears and eyes open!’

  After an adjutant had conducted Chiao Tai and Mr Yau to the door, Judge Dee talked for a while with Mr Liang about the naval campaigns of his late father, and then dismissed him too. He fanned himself for a while in silence. Suddenly he addressed the Governor:

  ‘We are a long way from the capital here, and the Cantonese are reputedly rather headstrong, and very independent by nature. If one adds thereto the presence of all those foreigners, one would suppose that preserving the peace in this city is not an easy task.’

  ‘I can't complain, sir. Prefect Pao here is a capable administrator and has an experienced staff, and our garrison consists of seasoned soldiers from up north. It is true that the local population is a bit surly at times, but they are a law-abiding lot, on the whole, and with a little tact…’

  The Governor shrugged his shoulders. Prefect Pao started to say something, but apparently changed his mind.

  Judge Dee closed his fan with a snap and rose. The Governor took the judge and Tao Gan to the door, and the majordomo led them back to Judge Dee's own wing.

  The judge made him take them to a pavilion in a small, moonlit back garden. An artificial goldfish pond afforded some coolness there. When they were seated at the small tea-table by the carved marble balustrade, Judge Dee dismissed the majordomo. He said slowly:

  ‘Quite an interesting session. But except for the fact that we now know there are even more Arabs here than we expected, it didn't help us much. Or did I miss something?’

  Tao Gan gloomily shook his head. After a while he said:

  ‘You told us that the Censor's public life is impeccable, sir. But what about his private interests? In the case of an unmarried young man…’

  ‘I too thought of that. Since as President of the Court I have all kinds of special facilities, checking on his private life was an easy matter. Although he is a handsome fellow, he never shows the slightest interest in women. Many a prominent family in the capital has tried to make him their son-in-law, but in vain. Neither does he cultivate any of the charmin
g courtesans who assist at the parties a man in his position has to attend nearly every night. This lack of interest is not rooted in an innate aversion to women—a trait not uncommon in handsome young men, as you know. The reason for his abstention is simply that he is completely engrossed in his work.’

  ‘Does he have no hobby at all, sir?’

  ‘No, except for a great interest in crickets. Has a fine collection, both singing and fighting ones. The subject came up during the last conversation I had with him. I noticed a chirruping sound coming from his sleeve, and he produced a cricket in a small cage of silver thread. Said he always carried it with him, a rare specimen called a Golden Bell, if I remember correctly. He…’ He broke off and looked at Tao Gan's startled face. ‘What is wrong with that?’ he asked, astonished.

  ‘Well,’ Tao Gan replied slowly, ‘it so happened that on my way here I met a blind girl selling crickets who caught a stray Golden Bell last night. It must be a coincidence, of course, but since she told me also that it is of great rarity, especially here in the south, it might…’

  ‘It all depends on how and where she got it,’ Judge Dee said curtly. ‘Tell me more about this meeting!’

  ‘I ran into her by accident near the market place, sir. She catches them herself, recognizing good specimens by their singing. While passing by the west wall of the Flowery Pagoda, a famous temple in the west city, she heard the peculiar noise produced by the Golden Bell. It must have been hiding in a crack in the wall; its voice sounded frightened, she said. She laid a bait, and coaxed the cricket into a small calabash.’

  Judge Dee made no comment. He tugged at his moustache for a while, then said pensively:

  ‘It's a long chance, of course. Yet we may not rule out the possibility that it is indeed the Censor's Golden Bell that escaped from its cage while he was in that neighbourhood. While Chiao Tai is gathering information at Mansur's party, we may as well have a look at the temple and see whether we can't obtain a clue to the Censor's whereabouts there. Anyway, it is one of the historical sights of the city, I am told. We can take our evening rice in some small place on the way.’

  ‘You can't do that, sir!’ Tao Gan protested, aghast. ‘Formerly, when you were still a local magistrate, there was no harm in making the rounds of the city incognito, on occasion. But now, as one of the highest officials in the Empire, you really can't…’

  ‘I can and I will!’ the judge cut him short. ‘In the capital I have to adopt all the pomp and circumstance belonging to my office—that can't be helped. But we aren't in the capital now, we are in Canton. I am certainly not going to let slip this welcome opportunity for getting out of myself!’ Forestalling all further protests by rising abruptly, he added, ‘I shall meet you in the anteroom, when I have changed.’

  VI

  After Chiao Tai and Mr Yau had left the Council Hall, the former quickly went to the armoury, doffed his martial dress, and put on a light robe of thin grey cotton and a cap of black gauze. Then he joined Mr Yau in the gatehouse of the palace. Yau proposed that they call at his own house, for he too wanted to change before going to the party. They were carried in Yau's comfortable well-cushioned palankeen to his mansion, a large building to the west of the palace, near the Kwang-Siao Temple.

  While Chiao Tai was waiting for Yau in the spacious reception room, he looked dubiously at the vulgar luxury displayed there. The wall tables were loaded with glittering silver vases filled with artificial flowers made of wax, and red scrolls inscribed with texts extolling Yau's wealth and importance decorated the walls. The maidservant who brought him his tea was sedately dressed, but her heavy make-up and the frankly appraising look she gave him indicated a former dancing-girl.

  Soon Yau came to fetch him. He had put on a thin blue robe, and he wore his simple black cap at a jaunty angle. ‘Let's get along!’ he said briskly. ‘I am rather busy tonight, you know. After dinner I have an urgent affair to attend to. Fortunately these Arab parties end rather early.’

  ‘What do we get there?’ Chiao Tai asked, as their palankeen was carried down the street.

  ‘Rather simple fare, but quite appetizing in its own way. Not a patch on our Chinese kitchen, needless to say. Have you tried our Cantonese stewed octopus yet? Or eels?’

  He started with a detailed explanation of these dishes that made Chiao Tai's mouth water, then gave an eloquent discourse on the local wine and liqueur. Evidently he does himself well, Chiao Tai thought. Although Yau was a rather vulgar upstart, he was a pleasant fellow all the same.

  When they were descending from the palankeen in front of a plain whitewashed gatehouse, Chiao Tai exclaimed:

  ‘I had my noon rice early today, and your talk has made me ravenous! I could devour a whole roasted pig, I tell you!’

  ‘Hush!’ Yau warned quickly, ‘don't mention pork! The Moslems aren't allowed to even touch it; the meat is considered unclean. They aren't allowed to drink wine either, but they have another liquor that tastes rather nice.’ So speaking, he knocked on the door, which was decorated with iron bosses shaped like fishes.

  It was opened by an old Arab hunchback with a striped turban. He led them through a small courtyard to a rectangular garden, planted with low flowering shrubs in an unusual pattern. A tall lean man came to meet them. His turban and flowing long gown were very white in the moonlight. Chiao Tai recognized him. It was the same man he had seen scolding the Arab sailors on the quay.

  ‘Peace on you, Mansur!’ Yau exclaimed jovially. ‘I took the liberty of bringing a friend, Colonel Chiao, from our capital.’

  The Arab fixed his large, flashing eyes on Chiao Tai. The whites of them stood out clearly against his dark-brown skin. He spoke in a sonorous voice, in slow but good Chinese:

  ‘Peace on all true believers!’

  Chiao Tai reasoned that if the salutation was limited to Moslems, it did not include Yau and himself and thus was rather rude. But by the time he had thought this out, the Arab and Yau, bent over a shrub, were already deep in a discussion on raising plants.

  ‘The noble Mansur is a great lover of flowers, just like me,’ Yau explained as he righted himself. “These fragrant plants he brought along all the way from his own country.’

  Chiao Tai noticed the delicate scent drifting about in the garden, but what with the insolent greeting and his empty stomach he was not in the proper mood for flowers. He sourly surveyed the low house in the rear. Seeing behind it the minaret of the mosque outlined against the moonlit sky, he concluded that Mansur's house could not be far from his inn.

  At last Mansur led his two guests into the large airy room at the back of the garden. Its façade consisted of a row of high open arches of a quaint, pointed shape. Upon entering, Chiao Tai noticed to his dismay that there was no furniture at all, let alone a dining-table. The floor was covered by a thick blue pile carpet, and in the corners lay a few stuffed silken pillows. From the ceiling hung a brass lamp with eight wicks. All across the back wall ran a curtain of a type he had never seen before: it was attached with brass rings to a pole close to the ceiling, instead of being sewn to a bamboo stick, as it should be.

  Mansur and Yau sat down cross-legged on the floor, and after some hesitation Chiao Tai followed their example. Apparently Mansur had seen his annoyed look, for he now addressed him in his measured voice:

  ‘I trust the honoured guest doesn't object to sitting on the floor, instead of in a chair.’

  ‘As a soldier,’ Chiao Tai said gruffly, ‘I am accustomed to roughing it.’

  ‘We consider our manner of living quite comfortable,’ his host remarked coldly.

  Chiao Tai instinctively disliked the man, but he had to admit that he was an impressive figure. He had a regular, clean-cut face, with a thin beaked nose, and a long moustache, the ends of which curled up in foreign fashion. He carried his shoulders very straight, and flat muscles rippled smoothly under his thin white gown. Evidently he was a man capable of great feats of endurance.

  To break the awkward silence, Chiao Tai poi
nted at the band of intricate design that ran all along the top of the wall and asked:

  ‘What do those curlicues mean?’

  ‘It's Arab writing,’ Yau explained hastily. ‘It's a holy text.’

  ‘How many letters do you have?’ Chiao Tai asked Mansur.

  ‘Twenty-eight,’ he replied curtly.

  ‘Holy heaven!’ Chiao Tai exclaimed. ‘Is that all? We have more than twenty thousand, you know!’

  Mansur's lips curved in a contemptuous smile. He turned round and clapped his hands.

  ‘How in hell can they express their thoughts in only twenty-eight letters?’ Chiao Tai asked Yau in an undertone.

  ‘They haven't got so many thoughts to express!’ Yau whispered with a thin smile. ‘Here comes the food!’