The woman came in with a large tray, loaded with a teapot and platters of fresh fruit and candy. Judge Dee gave her a handful of coppers, and she left with a polite smirk.
Carnation drew the curtains aside and entered the bedstead. Judge Dee took off his cap and placed it on the tea-table. Then he stepped up into the large bedstead also, and sat down cross-legged on the spotless reed-mat. The bedstead was a small room in itself. Its back and side walls were made of carved blackwood, the panelling reaching high up to the canopy. Carnation was kneeling in front of the back wall, carefully forcing a hair-needle into a fissure of the wood.
‘What are you doing there?’ the judge asked curiously.
‘I jammed the door of the secret peephole,’ she replied.’ ‘I don’t think there’ll be customers for it this early in the day, but you never know. And anyway we don’t want them to discover what we’re up to.’
She sat down opposite the judge and leaned back against the large pillow.
Judge Dee reflected that he certainly was picking up much useful knowledge. Before his marriage to his First Lady he had occasionally associated with the high-class courtesans of the capital, but he was ignorant of the customs of common houses of prostitution, and the depraved tastes they catered for. He raised his head and, caressing his sidewhiskers, began to study one by one the sheets inscribed with poems and pictures that had been inserted into the many square and round frames in the panelling. The bedsteads of married couples are usually decorated with inscriptions and pictures of an edifying kind, alluding to the deep meaning of the married state, and to virtuous men and women of antiquity. Here, however, they were of course of a more frivolous nature. Literary people who visit houses of assignation and brothels often amuse themselves by jotting down a few impromptu verses or making a few sketches. If those are cleverly done, the management will use them for decorating the inside of the bed. When they have faded, they are torn down and replaced by new ones. The judge read aloud a couplet, written in a flowing, scholarly hand:
‘Beware lest the same Gate through which you entered life,
Becomes the Gate through which you meet untimely death.’
He nodded and said:
‘Crudely expressed, but unfortunately quite true’ Then he suddenly sat up. His eye had fallen on a poem of four lines. The first couplet was written in the same unconventional, artistic hand as the inscription on the painting of the lotus flowers which he had seen in Leng Chien’s office, on the wall behind the banker’s chair. The second couplet was written in the very small, precise calligraphy taught to girls of good family. There was no signature. He slowly read out aloud the first couplet:
‘How fast the days and nights flow past, a river swift and unremitting,
Carrying too few and too frail fallen blossoms in its hasty stream.’
And then the second couplet, which ran:
‘Let them flow by, don’t stay them, their petals’ll wither in your hand,
However tender. You’ll spoil them for another loving couple’s dream.’
According to the old poetic custom, the man had written down a couplet, and the woman had capped it with a second. It would seem to fit. The poem with its allusions to fallen blossoms and short-lived earthly pleasures could well refer to an illicit relationship. The beggar had described Mrs Teng’s lover as a well-dressed young man with red cheeks. Those red patches need not have been caused by indulging in wine, they could be the tell-tale signs of the lingering lung disease Leng Te had died from. And the young painter’s predilection for depicting lotus flowers would seem to supply further proof. He said to Carnation: ‘This poem could have been written by Mrs Teng and her lover together.’
‘I don’t quite get the meaning,’ the girl said, ‘but it sounds to me like a sad poem. Did you recognize her lover’s handwriting?’
‘I think so. But, even if I am right, it won’t help us much in finding Mrs Teng’s murderer. The young man who wrote the first couplet is dead.’ He thought for a while, then went on: ‘You’d better go downstairs now and try to get that woman to give you a good description of the couple.’
‘You’re very anxious to get rid of me, aren’t you?’ the girl said curtly. ‘You’ll have to bear with my company a little longer, though. We must keep up appearances.’
‘I am sorry!’ Judge Dee said with an apologetic smile. He had not thought that the girl was so sensitive. And she was quite right, of course. ‘I am a bit preoccupied,’ he added quickly, ‘but I like your company very much. How about bringing that tea-tray here? Then we can eat and drink a little, and talk some more.’
Carnation silently climbed down from the bedstead and fetched the tray. When she had placed it on the bedmat between them, she poured out two cups of tea. She ate a piece of candy. Suddenly she said:
‘It must be a nice change for you to be in a real bed again, like the one you have at home.’
‘What is that?’ the judge asked, startled from his thoughts. ‘At home? You know very well that men of my profession have no home!’
‘Oh, stop that nonsense!’ Carnation exclaimed, annoyed. ‘You act the part fairly well, so you needn’t fear that the Corporal or his men’ll find you out. But don’t think you can fool an experienced woman when you are in bed with her!’
‘What do you mean?’ Judge Dee asked, irritated.
She leaned over and pulled his robe down. Quickly feeling his shoulder, she said contemptuously:
‘Look at that smooth skin! A daily bath, and expensive ointments! And do you want me to believe that your hair got that gloss from the wind and rain? You are strong, but your skin is white and without a single scar. Those muscles of yours you got from fencing and boxing in the training-hall, with the other young gentlemen! And the cheap way you’re treating me! You may think I am not worth a second look, but let me tell you that no real highwayman or vagrant crook would be sitting calmly on the bedmat with me here, daintily sipping his tea! Those men get a chance at a woman like me only once in a while; even if they were on a job they’d grab me as soon as I had lowered my trousers, and worry about the job afterwards! They can’t afford to be as casual as you, with your four or five fawning wives and concubines at home who coddle you day and night, and who have expensive powder instead of stripes on their behinds I I don’t know who or what you are, and I care less, but I won’t be insulted by you and your haughty airs!’
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 f
an 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 peephole 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 neckcloth 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.
Chapter 12
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 m
uch 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.
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