The Chinese Nail Murders

Seventh Chapter

Ma Joong and Chiao Tai finished their meal in the guardhouse with a cup of bitter tea, then said good-by to Sergeant Hoong. In the courtyard a groom stood waiting with their horses. Ma Joong looked up at the sky. He said: "It doesn't look like snow, brother. Let's walk." Chiao Tai agreed. They left the tribunal at a brisk pace. They walked along the high wall in front of the Temple of the City God, then turned to the right and entered the quiet resi­dential quarter where Lan Tao-kuei lived.

A sturdy youngster, evidently one of Lan's pupils, opened the door for them. He told them that the master was in the training hall.

The training hall was a spacious, bare room. Except for a wooden bench near the entrance there was no furniture. But the whitewashed walls were covered with racks holding a large col­lection of swords, spears and fencing sticks.

Lan Tao-kuei stood in the center of the thick reed mat that covered the floor. Despite the cold he was naked except for a tight loincloth. He was working with a black ball of about nine inches in diameter.

Ma Joong and Chiao Tai sat down on the bench, and eagerly watched his every movement. Lan kept the ball in continuous motion; he threw it up, caught it now on his left, then on his right shoulder, let it roll along his arm into his hand, let it drop but with one lithe movement caught it just before it touched the floor —all with an effortless grace that fascinated the two onlookers.

Lan's body was hairless like his head, and his rounded arms and legs did not show any musculature. His waist was narrow, but he had wide shoulders and a thick neck.

"His skin is as smooth as a woman's," Chiao Tai whispered to Ma Joong, "but underneath is nothing but whipcord!"

Ma Joong nodded in silent admiration.

Suddenly the champion stopped. He stood for a moment regu­lating his breath, then stepped up to his two friends with a broad smile. Presenting the ball in his outstretched hand to Ma Joong he said:

"Hold it a while, will you? I'll put on my robes."

Ma Joong took the ball but let it slip with a curse. It dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. It was of solid iron.

All three burst out laughing.

"August Heaven!" Ma Joong exclaimed, "seeing you working with it I thought it was made of wood."

"I wish you would teach me that exercise," Chiao Tai said wist­fully.

"As I told you two before," Lan Tao-kuei said with his quiet smile, "as a matter of principle I never teach separate grips or exercises. It'll always be a pleasure to teach you, but you'll have to follow the entire course."

Ma Joong and a boxer hear a soldier's story

Ma Joong scratched his head.

"Do I remember correctly," he asked, "that your training rules include leaving the wenches alone?"

"Women sap a man's strength," Lan said. He spoke so bitterly that his two friends shot him an astonished look. Lan rarely in­dulged in vehement statements. The boxer quickly continued with a smile: "That is to say, it'll not hurt if kept well under control. For you I'll make special conditions. You have to give up drinking altogether, you must follow the diet I prescribe, and sleep with a woman only once a month. That's all!"

Ma Joong shot a doubtful look at Chiao Tai.

"Well," he said, "there's the rub, brother Lan. I don't suppose that I am fonder of a drink and a wench than the next, but I am nearing forty now, and they have grown to be a sort of habit with me, you know. What about you, Chiao Tai?"

Fingering his small mustache Chiao Tai replied:

"As to the wench, well, all right—provided of course she's the pick of the top shelf. But as to go entirely without wine ..."

"There you are." Master Lan laughed. "But it doesn't matter. You two are boxers of the ninth grade, there is no need to enter the extra grade. In your profession you'll never have to fight an opponent who has reached that highest level."

"Why not?" Ma Joong asked.

"That's simple!" the champion answered. "For going through all grades from the first up to the ninth, a strong body and per­severance suffice. But for the extra grade strength and skill are of secondary importance. Only men of a completely serene mind can reach it, and that quality naturally precludes becoming a criminal."

Ma Joong poked Chiao Tai in his ribs.

"That being so," he said cheerfully, "we'd better go along as per usual, brother. Now get dressed, brother Lan, we want you to take us to the market."

While Lan was putting on his clothes he remarked:

"Now that judge of yours, I think he could make the extra grade if he wanted to. He impresses me as a man of an extraor­dinarily strong personality."

"That he has!" Ma Joong said. "Besides, he is a top-class sword fighter, and I once saw him hit someone so hard that it made my mouth water! He eats and drinks very moderately, and his wives we can just call routine, I suppose. Yet with him there's also a rub. You don't seriously believe that he would ever consent to shaving off that beard and whiskers, do you?"

Laughing, the three friends walked to the front door.

They sauntered along in a southern direction, and soon reached the high ornamental gate of the covered market. A dense crowd was milling around in the narrow passages, but they made way as soon as they had seen Lan Tao-kuei, for the boxer was well known in Pei-chow.

"This bazaar," Lan said, "dates from the old days when Pei-chow was the main supply center of the Tartar tribes. They say that the passages that form this rabbit warren, if put in one line, would be longer than five miles. What exactly are you looking for?"

"Our orders are," Ma Joong replied, "to find a clue to the whereabouts of Miss Liao Lien-fang, the girl who disappeared here the other day."

"It happened while she was looking at a dancing bear, I re­member," the boxer said. "Come along, I know where the Tartars run that show."

He took them by a short cut behind the shops to a broader pas­sage.

"Here you are," he said. "I see no Tartars about just now, but this is the place."

Ma Joong looked at the shabby stalls on the left and right, where the vendors were praising their wares in raucous voices. He remarked:

"Old Hoong and Tao Gan questioned all those fellows here al­ready, and they know their job. No use asking them again. I wonder, though, what the girl came here for. You'd expect her to keep to the northern part of the market, where the better shops are, selling silk and brocade."

"What did her duenna say about that?" the boxer asked.

"She said they lost their way," Chiao Tai replied, "and when they saw the performing bear they decided to stay a while and look."

"Two streets farther south," Lan remarked, "there's the brothel quarter. Couldn't the people from there have something to do with it?"

Ma Joong shook his head.

"I investigated those brothels myself," he said, "and I found nothing. At least nothing that had a bearing on the case!" he added with a grin.

He heard a queer jabbering behind him. He turned around and saw a thin boy of about sixteen, clad in rags. His face was twitch­ing horribly as he uttered the strange sounds. Ma Joong put his hand in his sleeve to give him a copper, but the boy had already pushed past him and was tugging frantically at Master Lan's sleeve.

The boxer smiled and placed his large hand on the boy's tousled head. He calmed down at once and looked up ecstatically at the towering figure.

"You certainly have queer friends!" Chiao Tai said amazed.

"He isn't queerer than most people you see around!" Lan said calmly. "He is the abandoned child of a Chinese soldier and a Tartar prostitute. I once found him in the street; a drunken fel­low had kicked him and broken a few ribs. I set them, and kept the boy with me for some time. He is dumb, but he can hear a little and if you talk very slowly he understands. He is clever enough. I taught him a few useful tricks, and now the man who dares to attack him must be very drunk indeed! There's nothing I hate more than to see weak persons maltreated. I wanted to keep the young fellow as errand boy, but at times his mind wanders and he likes it better here in the market. He comes regularly to my place for a bowl of rice and a chat."

The boy started to jabber again. Lan listened carefully, then he said:

"He wants to know what I am doing here. I'd better ask him about that vanished girl. The fellow has very sharp eyes, there's little happening here he doesn't know about."

He told the boy slowly about the dancing bear and the girl, il­lustrating his talk with gestures. The boy listened tensely, eagerly watching the boxer's lips. Sweat started to pearl on his misshapen brow. When Lan had finished, the boy became very excited. He stuck his hand in Lan's sleeve and brought out the pieces of the Seven Board. Squatting he began to arrange them on the street stones.

"I taught him that," the boxer said with a smile. "It often helps him to indicate what he wants. Let's see, what he is doing now?"

The three friends stooped and looked at the figure the boy was making.

"That's evidently a Tartar," Lan remarked. "That thing on his head is the black hood worn by the Tartars from the plain. What did that fellow do, my friend?"

The dumb boy sadly shook his head. Then he grabbed Lan's sleeve, and made some hoarse sounds.

"He means that it is too difficult for him to explain," the boxer said. "He wants me to accompany him to the old crone, a beggar woman who more or less looks after him. They live in a hole in the ground under a shop. You two better wait here. It is rather dirty and smelly there, but it's warm, and that's what counts."

Lan left with the boy. Ma Joong and Chiao Tai started to ex­amine the Tartar daggers on display in a street stall near by.

The boxer came back alone. He said with a pleased face:

"I think I've got something for you. Come over here." He dragged the two men into the corner behind the stall, then re­sumed in a low voice: "The crone said that she and the boy were among the crowd watching the performing bear. They saw a well-dressed girl with an elderly lady, and tried to get to them because they looked like a good prospect for begging a few coppers. But just when the old crone was going to accost the pair, a middle-aged lady who had been standing behind the girl whispered some­thing to her. The girl quickly looked at her duenna, and when she saw that she was absorbed in the show, she slipped away with the other woman. The boy crept under the legs of the men standing there and went after them to get his coppers. But then a huge fellow wearing a black Tartar hood roughly pushed him away, and followed the pair. The boy thought he had better give up his attempt at earning a few coppers, because the hooded fellow looked very fierce indeed. Don't you think that is rather interest­ing?"

"It certainly is!" Ma Joong exclaimed. "Could the crone or the boy describe the woman and the Tartar?"

"Unfortunately not," the boxer replied. "I asked them, of course, the same question. The woman had covered the lower part of her face with her neckcloth, and the man had pulled the long ear flaps of his hood over his mouth."

"We'll have to report this at once," Chiao Tai said. "It's the first real clue we have to what happened to that girl."

"I'll take you to the exit by a short cut," Master Lan said.

He took them into a narrow, semiobscure passage where a dense crowd was milling around. Suddenly they heard the piercing scream of a woman, followed by the sound of breaking furniture. The people around them melted away; the next moment the three friends were alone in the passage.

"Over there in that dark house!" Ma Joong shouted. He rushed ahead, kicked the door open and entered, followed by his two companions.

They ran across a deserted sitting room to a broad wooden staircase. Upstairs there was only one large room, on the street side. It presented a confused scene. In the center two ruffians were beating and kicking two men who lay writhing on the floor. A half-dressed woman was cowering by the bed near the door; on the bed in front of the window another woman was trying to cover her nakedness with a loincloth.

The ruffians let go of their victims. One of them, a thickset fel­low with a patch over his right eye, picked out Master Lan as the weakest link in the attack, misled by the boxer's shaven head. He launched a quick blow at Lan's face. The boxer moved his head imperceptibly; as the blow glanced past his face he gave the man's shoulder a casual push. The ruffian shot forward like an arrow from the bow and fell against the wall with a crash that made the plaster come down. At the same time the other ruffian had ducked, aiming a thrust with his head at Ma Joong's stomach. But the latter raised his knee so that it hit the other right in his face. The naked woman screamed again.

The one-eyed man had gotten up. He said, panting:

"If I had my sword I'd make mincemeat out of you crooks!"

Ma Joong wanted to knock him down, but Lan laid a restrain­ing hand on his arm.

"I believe," he said quietly, "that we are joining the wrong side, brother." To the ruffians he added: "These two men are officers of the tribunal."

The two victims, who had scrambled up now, hurriedly made for the door, but Chiao Tai quickly stood himself in their way.

The face of the one-eyed man had lit up. Looking the three friends over he instinctively addressed himself to Chiao Tai, say­ing:

"I regret the mistake, officer! We thought you were in with those two touts. Me and my friend are foot soldiers of the North­ern Army, on leave."

"Show your papers!" Chiao Tai said curtly. The man pulled a crumpled-up envelope from his girdle. It bore the large seal of the Northern Army. Chiao Tai quickly looked through the papers inside. As he gave the envelope back he said:

"That is in order. Tell your story."

"The wench on the couch there," the soldier began, "accosted us in the street, and invited us to come up and amuse ourselves. We went in, and found that other wench waiting here. We paid in advance, and amused ourselves, then we had a nap. When we woke up, we found all our money gone. I started shouting, then those two slick touts appeared, and said the two wenches were their wives. If we didn't go away quietly, they would call the military police and report we had raped the women.

"We were in a nasty fix, for once the military police have you, I tell you that you go through all the Ten Hells, guilty or not. They'll beat a fellow up just to keep warm. So we decided to say good-by to our money, but first give those two bastards some­thing to remember us by."

Ma Joong had been looking the two other men up and down. Now he exclaimed suddenly:

"Don't I recognize these two heroes! They belong to the second brothel two streets down!"

The two men immediately fell on their knees and begged for clemency. The elder one produced a money pouch from his sleeve, and handed it to the one-eyed soldier. Ma Joong said disgustedly: "Can't you dog's heads think up a new trick, for once? You are getting tiresome! You come to the tribunal, and the women too."

"You can file a complaint," Chiao Tai said to the soldiers.

The one-eyed man gave his comrade a doubtful look. Then he said:

"To tell you the truth, officer, we had rather not. We are due back in camp in two days, and kneeling in the tribunal is not our idea of a last good fling. We have our money back, and I must say the girls did their best. Couldn't you allow us to leave it at that?"

Chiao Tai looked at Ma Joong, who shrugged his shoulders and said:

"It's the same to me. We have those touts anyway because this is not a licensed house." He asked the elder man: "Hey you, do you rent this house also to gentlemen who bring their own bed-warmers?"

"Never, Excellency," the man answered virtuously. "It's against the law to give the clients opportunities with unregistered women. You'll find such a house in the next street, near the wine house, The Breeze of Spring. The proprietress wasn't even a member of our association. But the house is closed now, she died day before yesterday."

"May her soul rest in peace," Ma Joong said piously. "Well, then, we are about through here. We'll have the warden of the market and his men convey these two fellows and their ladies to the tribunal." And to the soldiers, "You can go."

"Thanks very much, officer," the one-eyed soldier said grate­fully. "That's the first stroke of luck these last days. After that mishap with my eye we got nothing but trouble."

When Ma Joong saw that the shivering naked woman on the bed hesitated to get her clothes, he shouted:

"Don't be prudish, my girl! All you have is an advertisement for the house."

As the girl got down from the bed, Lan Tao-kuei turned his back on her and casually asked the soldier:

"What happened to your eye?"

"It got frozen when we were on our way here down from Five Rams Village," the soldier replied. "We looked for someone to help us to get to the city quick, but we saw only an old fellow on horseback. And he must have been a crook for he galloped away as soon as he had seen us. I said to my mate . . ."

"Halt!" Ma Joong interrupted him. "Was that fellow carrying something along with him?"

The soldier scratched his head. Then he said:

"Yes, now you mention it, he had a leather bag or something hanging on the pommel."

Ma Joong gave Chiao Tai a quick look.

"It so happens," he said to the soldier, "that our judge is in­terested in the fellow you saw. You'll have to come around to the tribunal, but I promise it won't take long." Turning to Master Lan he said: "Let's be on our way."

"Now that I have seen that you two fellows actually earn your pay," the boxer said with a grin, "I'll say good-by here. I'll pick up some food, then I am going to the bathhouse."