The Chinese Bell Murders

Fifth Chapter:

In the morning of that same day, when Tao Gan had left Judge Dee's private office, he changed into a quiet but distinguished-looking outer robe and put on a black gauze cap as is affected by gentlemen of leisure without official rank.

In this attire he walked through the northern city gate and strolled through the northern suburb. He found a small restaurant where he ordered a simple luncheon.

From the second floor where he sat by the window he could see through the lattice-work the curved roof of the Temple of Boundless Mercy. As he paid his bill he said to the servant: 'What a magnificent temple that is! How pious the monks must be to receive such plentiful blessings from the Lord Buddha!' The waiter grunted.

'Those baldheads may be pious,' he replied, 'but there is many an honest householder in this district who would gladly cut their throat!'

'Mind your language, my man!' Tao Gan said with feigned indignation. 'You are speaking to a devout believer in the Three Jewels.'

The waiter gave him a sullen look and went away without taking the tip that Tao Gan had left on the table. Tao Gan contentedly put the cash back into his sleeve and left the restaurant.

After a short walk he arrived at the three-storied gate of the temple. He ascended the stone steps and entered. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed three monks sitting in the gatekeeper's room. They scrutinised him carefully. Tao Gan walked slowly through the gate, then suddenly stopped short, felt in his sleeves, and looked to left and right as if undecided what to do.

One of the gatekeepers, an elderly monk, stepped up to him, and enquired politely:

'Can I be of any service to the gentleman?' 'This is very kind of you, Father,' Tao Gan said. 'I, a devout follower of the Path came here especially to offer this my humble votive gift to our Gracious Lady Kwan Yin. However, I find that unfortunately I left my small change at home. So I am unable to buy incense. I fear that I shall have to return and come back here some other day.'

As he spoke he took a beautiful bar of silver from his sleeve and let it weigh in the palm of his hand.

The monk, who cast an admiring eye on the silver bar, hastily said:

'Allow me, my Lord, to advance the incense money to you!'

So speaking he hurriedly went into the gatekeeper's room and reappeared with two strings of fifty copper cash each, which Tao Gan accepted with grave thanks.

Crossing the first courtyard, Tao Gan noticed that it was paved with polished stone slabs, while the reception rooms on both sides made a most elegant impression. Two palankeens were standing in front and there was much coming and going of monks and servants. Tao Gan passed two more courtyards, then saw the main hall of the temple directly in front of him.

This hall was on three sides surrounded by a marble terrace and overlooked a spacious courtyard paved with carved marble slabs. Tao Gan ascended the broad steps, crossed the terrace and stepped over the high threshold into the dimly-lit hall. The sandalwood statue of the goddess was over a fathom high. It was placed on a gilt pedestal and the light of two giant candles played on the golden incense burners and other sacrificial vessels on the altar.

Tao Gan bowed deeply three times and then, for the benefit of the group of monks standing about, made it appear as if with his right hand he dropped some cash in the large wooden offering box, while at the same time he let his left sleeve in which he had put the two strings of cash, swing against the outside of the box with a convincing thud.

He stood with folded hands for some time, bowed again three times and left the hall. He walked round it on the right side but found his passage barred by a closed gate. He stood debating whether or not to try to push this door open, when a monk came out, and asked:

'Does the gentleman wish to see His Reverence the Abbot?'

Tao Gan hastily excused himself and retraced his steps. He again passed the hall and then turned round the left corner. There he found a broad covered corridor which led to a flight of narrow steps that went down. At the bottom was a small gate with a notice reading:

ALL PERSONS EXCEPT THE TEMPLE PERSONNEL ARE RESPECTFULLY REQUESTED HERE TO ARREST THEIR STEPS

Ignoring this polite notice, Tao Gan swiftly pushed the door open, and found himself in a beautifully landscaped garden. A winding path led through flowering bushes and artificial rocks; in the distance the blue glaze of the tiled roofs and the red lacquered rafters of small pavilions shimmered through the green tree-tops.

Tao Gan assumed that this was the place where the ladies who visited the temple stayed overnight. He quickly slipped between two large bushes and, shedding his outer coat, put it on again inside out. Tao Gan had this coat specially made. Its lining consisted of rough hempcloth such as is worn by workmen and it showed several clumsy patches. He took off his gauze cap which proved collapsible, and stuffed it in his sleeve. He wound a strip of dirty cloth round his head and tucked his robe up so that his leggings showed. Finally he took a thin roll of blue cloth from his sleeve.

This contrivance was one of Tao Gan's many ingenious inventions. When unrolled, it proved to be a roughly sewn bag made of the blue cloth that people ordinarily use for wrapping up the bundles they carry. It had a square shape, but all kinds of queer folds and spare corners had been sewn in it. By fitting together, in various combinations, the dozen thin bamboo staves inside, Tao Gan could make this bag assume all kinds of shapes-from the square bundle containing laundry to the oblong package full of books. In his varied career this contraption had often proved extremely useful to him.

Tao Gan adjusted the bamboo staves inside in such a way that the bundle seemed to contain carpenter's tools. His transformation was completed in a few moments and soon he was walking down the pathway, his shoulders bent a little as if the bundle he was carrying under his arm was quite heavy.

The path led to an elegant small pavilion standing in the shadow of an old, gnarled pine tree. The red lacquered double door, studded with copper knobs, stood open and two novices were sweeping the floor.

Tao Gan stepped over the high threshold, and without a word went straight to a large couch that was standing against the back wall. He squatted down with a grunt, produced a piece of carpenter's string, and started measuring the couch.

One of the two young monks said:

'What, must the furniture be altered again?'

'Mind your own business!' Tao Gan said gruffly, 'do you grudge a poor carpenter a few copper cash?'

The two novices laughed and left the pavilion. As soon as he was alone Tao Gan stood up and looked round.

The room had no windows except for a round opening high up on the back wall, which was so small that even a child would not be able to wriggle through. The couch on which he had pretended to start work was made of solid blackwood, intricately carved and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Its coverlets and pillow were of heavy brocade. By its side stood a small table of carved rosewood, with a portable tea stove and a tea-set of fine porcelain. One of the side walls was entirely covered by a magnificent scroll picture on silk, showing an image of the goddess Kwan Yin painted in full colour. Against the wall opposite stood an elegant dressing-table of rosewood. On it was an incense burner and two large candles. The only other piece of furniture was a low footstool. Although the novices had just swept and aired the room, the fragrance of some thick incense still hung in the air.

'Now,' Tao Gan said to himself, 'we must locate the secret entrance.'

He first inspected the most likely place-the wall behind the scroll picture. He tapped it all over and tried to discover a groove or some other indication of a secret doorway, but all in vain. Then he inspected the other walls inch by inch. He pushed the couch away from the wall and scrutinised it closely. Climbing on the dressing-table, he felt all around the small window to see whether there was not a trick frame, that made it in fact larger than it seemed. But here also his efforts were fruitless.

This annoyed Tao Gan considerably, he prided himself on being an expert on secret contrivances.

'In old mansions,' he thought, 'one may find a trapdoor in the floor. These pavilions, however, were built only last year. I could imagine that the monks could have made secretly a hidden entrance in the wall, but they could never engage in such extensive work as digging tunnels underground without attracting attention from outside. Yet it is the only possibility left.'

So he rolled up the thick carpet that covered the floor space in front of the couch and went down on his hands and knees. He examined the stone flags one by one, prying in the grooves with his knife. However, all his labour was in vain.

Since he did not dare to stay in the pavilion too long, he had to give up. On the way out he hastily inspected the hinges of the heavy double door to see whether they concealed some trick. But they were perfectly normal. Tao Gan sighed and closed the double doors behind him, devoting a few moments to an inspection of the lock which was of the most solid kind. He walked down the garden path, and three monks that met him only saw a grumpy old carpenter with his tool bag under his arm.

In the bushes near the entrance gate he changed back to his former attire and slipped out.

He strolled leisurely through the various courtyards and located the quarters of the monks, also the guest-rooms for the husbands of the ladies that came to visit the temple.

When he arrived at the main gate once more, he walked into the doorkeeper's room and found the same three monks that he had met when he entered.

'Accept my respectful thanks for the loan!' Tao Gan said politely to the eldest monk, without however making any attempt to take the strings of cash from his sleeve. Since it was awkward to let him stand there, the eldest monk invited him to sit down and asked him whether he would like a cup of tea. Tao Gan accepted gravely. Soon the four of them were sitting round the square table, drinking the bitter tea that is served in Buddhist monasteries.

'You people,' Tao Gan said in a conversational tone, 'seem extremely averse to spending copper cash. I did not use those two strings of cash you lent me, because when I wanted to take off a few coppers to pay for the incense, it turned out that the string had no knot. How could I untie it?'

'This is a queer statement, stranger,' one of the younger monks said. 'Show me that string!'

Tao Gan took the string from his sleeve and handed it to the monk, who let it swiftly pass through his hands.

'Here,' he said triumphantly, 'if this is not a knot then I don't know what a knot is!'

Tao Gan took the string back without even looking at it, and said to the elder monk:

'This must be black magic! Do you want to bet me fifty cash that there is no knot in the string?'

'Done!' shouted the younger monk eagerly.

Tao Gan took up the string, made it whirl round and round in the air. Then he gave it back to the monk, and said:

'Now show me the knot!'

The three monks eagerly let the string pass through their hands, but search as they might among the cash, they could not discover a knot.

Tao Gan placidly put the string back in his sleeve. Throwing a single copper on the table, he said:

'I will give you a chance to get your money back. Spin this coin and I bet you fifty cash that the reverse comes up!'

'Taken!' the elder monk said and spun the coin. It came up with the reverse side.

'That squares the loan,' Tao Gan said. 'To compensate you for your loss, however, I am willing to sell you my bar of silver for fifty cash.'

So speaking he again produced the bar of silver and let it weigh in his palm.

By now the monks were completely confused. The elder one thought that Tao Gan was a bit queer in his head, but he was not going to let the bar of silver go by at one per cent of the price. Thus he produced another string of fifty cash and put it on the table.

TAO GAN PRACTISING HIS TRICKS IN A BUDDHIST TEMPLE

'You made a good deal,' Tao Gan observed, 'this is a nice bar, and moreover very easy to carry!'

He blew against the bar. It fluttered down on the table. It was, in fact, a very clever imitation made of tinfoil.

Tao Gan slipped the string of cash in his sleeve and took out another one. He showed the monks that the string was tied in a special knot. By pressing it between his fingertips it became a slipping knot which fitted exactly into the square hole of a copper cash. If one let the cash run through one's fingers the knot was invisible and moved along with the cash into which it was fastened. Finally Tao Gan turned over the coin that had been spun a few moments ago; it was the same on both sides.

The monks burst out laughing, for they now understood that Tao Gan was a professional swindler.

'The lesson you learned,' Tao Gan calmly remarked, 'was well worth a hundred and fifty copper cash. Now let me get down to business. I have heard people talk about the wealth that comes flowing into this temple, and I thought I would stroll round and have a look at things here.

'I hear that you have many distinguished visitors. Now it so happens that I am a good talker and a fine connoisseur of men. I thought that you people might employ me to locate prospective, shall we say, "clients" for you, and to persuade people who hesitate letting their wives stay here overnight.'

When the elder monk shook his head, Tao Gan hastily continued:

'You need not pay me much, you know. Say, for instance, only ten per cent of the incense money of those visitors whom I introduce to you.'

'My friend,' the elder monk said coldly, 'you are completely misinformed. I know that jealous people on occasion circulate nasty rumours about this temple, but that is just idle talk. I can well imagine that a crook like you thinks the worst of everything and everyone, but in this case you are completely wrong. All our blessings come from our Gracious Lady Kwan Yin, Amen.'

'No offence meant,' said Tao Gan cheerfully, 'people in my profession admittedly are a bit suspicious. Now I suppose that you take due precautions for safeguarding the honour of the lady visitors?'

'Of course,' the elder monk said. 'In the first place, our abbot, His Reverence Spiritual Virtue, is extremely cautious in admitting people. He first interviews newcomers in the reception room and if he has any doubt about their faith in the Lord Buddha, or about their financial, or let us rather say, their social background, he refuses to let them stay. When the lady has prayed with her husband in the main hall, the latter is expected to give a repast to the abbot and the elders. This is usually a bit expensive, but our kitchen is superb, though I say it in all humility.

'Finally the abbot conducts the couple to one of our guest pavilions in the back garden. You have not seen those, but you can take my word for it that they are appointed in the most elegant of tastes. There are six of them. Each has a life-size painted copy of the miraculous sandalwood statue which you saw in the main hall hanging on the wall. Thus the ladies can pass the night in meditation on the virtues of our Gracious Lady Kwan Yin, Amen! When the lady is inside, the husband locks the door and keeps the key. Moreover, our abbot always insists that a strip of paper be pasted over the door and that the husband impresses his seals thereon. These seals may not be broken by anyone other than the husband. The next morning it is he who unlocks the door. Do you see now that there is not the slightest reason for any dark suspicion?' Tao Gan sadly shook his head and said: 'It is a great pity, but you are perfectly right! Now what happens if the prayer and the stay in the temple should fail to produce the desired result?'

'That,' the monk answered smugly, 'will happen only if the lady's mind is impure or if she does not genuinely believe in the Lord Buddha. Some ladies come back a second time, others we never see again.'

Pulling the long hairs on his cheek, Tao Gan asked:

'I suppose that when in due time a childless couple obtains the desired offspring, they don't forget the Temple of Boundless Mercy?'

'Indeed not,' the monk said with a grin, 'sometimes a special palankeen is needed to convey their presents here. And should on occasion this small courtesy be overlooked, our abbot usually sends a messenger to the lady concerned, just to remind her of her debt of gratitude to our temple.'

Tao Gan engaged the monks in some further desultory conversation without succeeding in eliciting more information from them.

After a while he took his leave and returned to the tribunal by a circuitous route.