The Chinese Nail Murders

Twenty-fifth Chapter

The next morning Judge Dee woke up late after a tormented night. The clerk who brought his morning tea said sadly:

"Our coroner's wife had an accident, Your Honor. Last night she went as usual to the Medicine Hill to gather herbs. She must have leaned over the balustrade and it gave away. At dawn a hunter found her dead body at the foot of the crag."

The judge expressed his regret, then ordered him to call Ma Joong. When they were alone the judge said gravely to him:

"Last night I made a mistake, Ma Joong. You must never tell anyone about our visit to the graveyard. Forget it!"

Ma Joong nodded his large head. He said quietly:

"I am not much use for brainwork, Your Honor, but the one thing I can do is follow orders. If Your Honor says 'Forget,' I forget."

Judge Dee dismissed him with an affectionate look.

A knock sounded on the door, and Kuo came in. The judge rose quickly and went to meet him. He formally expressed his condolences.

Kuo looked up at him with his large, sad eyes.

"It was no accident, Your Honor," he said calmly. "My wife knew that place like the palm of her hand, and the fence was quite strong. I know that she killed herself."

As Judge Dee raised his eyebrows, he continued in the same even voice:

"I confess being guilty of a serious crime, Your Honor. When I asked my wife to marry me, she warned me that she had killed her husband. I said it made no difference to me, because I knew her husband was a cruel brute who took delight in hurting men and animals alike. I feel that such persons ought to be destroyed, although I lack the courage to do it myself. I am not the kind of man who accomplishes great things, Your Honor."

He raised his hands in a hopeless gesture. Then he resumed:

"I did not ask her for particulars then, and the subject was never again mentioned between us. But I knew that she was often thinking about it, torn by doubts. I should of course have urged her to report the crime, but I am a selfish man, Your Honor. I could not bear the thought of losing her. . . ."

He stared at the floor, his mouth twitching.

"Then why do you raise this subject now?" Judge Dee asked.

Kuo looked up.

"Because I know it's her wish, Your Honor," he replied quietly. "I know that Mrs. Loo's trial affected her deeply; she felt she had to atone for her crime by killing herself. She was a woman of ut­ter sincerity and I know she wishes her crime to be reported of­ficially, so that she can enter the Hereafter with a clean record. Therefore I come to report now, also accusing myself of being an accomplice after the deed."

"Do you realize that yours is a capital crime?" the judge asked.

"Of course!" Kuo said, amazed. "My wife knew that I wouldn't mind dying after she had passed away."

Judge Dee silently stroked his beard. He felt deeply shamed by this supreme loyalty. After a while he said:

"I cannot initiate a posthumous case against your wife, Kuo. She never told you how she killed her husband, and I cannot open a grave for an autopsy, just on hearsay evidence. Moreover, I think that if your wife really had intended that the crime she said she committed be reported, she would, of course, have left behind a written self-accusation."

"That is true," Kuo said pensively. "I hadn't thought of that. My mind is so confused. . . ." Then he added softly, as to him­self: "It will be lonely. ..."

Judge Dee left his chair and walked over to him. He asked:

"Isn't that small daughter of Mrs. Loo staying in your house?"

"Yes," Kuo said with a slow smile. "She's a nice little thing. My wife became very fond of her."

"Then your duty is clear, Kuo!" the judge said firmly. "As soon as the case against Mrs. Loo is closed, you will adopt the girl as your daughter."

Kuo gave the judge a grateful look. He said ruefully:

"I was so upset that I didn't even apologize for my failure to notice the nail during the first autopsy, Your Honor. I do hope . . ."

"Let's forget the past," Judge Dee interrupted quickly.

Kuo knelt and three times touched the floor with his forehead. When he had risen again he said simply:

"Thank you, sir." Turning to go he added: "Your Honor is a great and good man."

As Kuo slowly shuffled to the door, the judge felt as if he had been hit across the face with a heavy whip.

Staggering back to his desk he sat down heavily in his chair. Suddenly he thought of what Kuo had said about his wife's doubts. "Joy passes, it's remorse and sorrow that last"—she had indeed known the entire poem. "Oh that but once new love . . ." His head sank on the table.

After a long time he righted himself. A conversation with his father, long forgotten, suddenly came to his mind. Thirty years ago, when he had just passed his first literary examination, he had eagerly told his father his great plans for the future. "I trust you'll go far, Jen-djieh," his father had said, "but be prepared for much suffering on the way! And you'll find it very lonely—at the top." He had answered confidently: "Suffering and loneliness make a man strong, sir!" He had not understood his father's sad smile. But now he knew.

The clerk came in with a pot of hot tea, and the judge slowly drank a cup. Suddenly he thought, amazed: How strange that life goes on, as if nothing had happened. Yet Hoong died, a woman and a man made me deeply ashamed of myself, and I am sitting here, drinking my tea. Life goes on, but I have changed. It goes on, but I don't want to take part in it any longer.

He felt utterly tired. Peace, he thought, life in retirement. But then he knew he could not do it. Retirement was for men with­out obligations, but he had too many of those. He had sworn to serve the state and the people, he had married and begotten chil­dren. He could not be a defaulter, running like a coward away from his debts. He would go on.

Having taken this decision, the judge remained deep in thought.

Suddenly the door burst open, startling him from his reflec­tions. His three lieutenants came running in.

"Your Honor!" Chiao Tai exclaimed excitedly, "two high of­ficials have arrived from the capital! They traveled all through the night!"

Judge Dee gave them an astonished look. He told them to let the high-ranking visitors refresh themselves in the reception hall; he would present himself there as soon as he had put on his cere­monial robes.

When he entered the reception hall the judge saw two men clad in robes of shining brocade. He knew by the insignia on their caps that they were Senior Investigators of the Metropolitan Court of Justice. His heart sank as he knelt down. This must be a very serious matter.

The elder man quickly stepped up to him and raised the judge. He said respectfully:

"Your Excellency shall not kneel before his servants."

Dumbfounded, the judge let himself be led to the seat of honor.

The elder official went to the high altar table against the back wall, and carefully lifted up a yellow document roll that had been deposited there. Holding it reverently in both hands, he said:

"Your Excellency will now read the August Words."

Judge Dee rose, and with a bow accepted the document roll. He slowly unrolled it, taking care that the Imperial Seal he saw at the top was above the level of his eyes.

It was an Imperial Edict, stating in the customary formal phrases that Dee Jen-djieh, of Tai-yuan, in recognition of twelve years' meritorious service, had been appointed President of the Metro­politan Court. It bore the Emperor's fiat, written with the Ver­milion Brush.

Judge Dee rolled up the Edict, and replaced it on the altar table. Then, turning in the direction of the capital, he prostrated himself, and nine times knocked his forehead on the floor to ex­press his gratitude for this Imperial favor.

Judge Dee reads an Imperial edict

As he rose the two officials bowed deeply before him.

"These two persons," the elder said respectfully, "have been appointed Your Excellency's assistants. We have taken the liberty of giving copies of the August Edict to the senior scribe, to be put up throughout the town, so that the people may rejoice in the honor bestowed upon their magistrate. Early tomorrow morn­ing we shall escort Your Excellency to the capital. It is the August Will that Your Excellency be available for duty as soon as pos­sible."

"Your Excellency's successor," the younger man added, "has already been appointed, and can be expected here tonight."

Judge Dee nodded.

"You may retire now," he said. "I shall proceed to my office to put the files in order for my successor."

"We shall give ourselves the honor of assisting Your Excel­lency," the elder man said obsequiously.

Walking back to the chancery the judge heard the sounds of firecrackers from afar. The citizens of Pei-chow had started to celebrate the success of their magistrate.

The senior scribe came to meet them. He announced that the personnel of the tribunal was waiting in the court hall to con­gratulate the judge.

When he ascended the dais, Judge Dee saw that all the scribes, clerks, constables and guards were kneeling in front of the bench, and this time his three lieutenants had joined them.

With the two Investigators standing on either side of him, the judge spoke a few appropriate words, thanking all for their service during his term of office. He announced that all would receive a special bonus, in accordance with their rank and position. Then he looked at the three men who had so loyally served him, and had become his friends. He announced that Ma Joong and Chiao Tai were appointed Commanders of the Right and Left Wing of the Court Guards, and Tao Gan as General Secretary.

The acclamations of the personnel mingled with the loud cheers of the crowd that was assembling in the street outside. "Long live our magistrate!" they shouted. Judge Dee reflected bitterly what a comedy life really was.

When Judge Dee had gone back to his private office, Ma Joong, Chiao Tai and Tao Gan came rushing inside to thank him. But they abruptly halted in their steps when they saw the two solemn officials helping the judge to take off his ceremonial robes.

Over their heads the judge smiled bleakly at his lieutenants. They quickly withdrew. As the door closed behind them he real­ized with a sudden pang that the old days of easy comradeship were over.

The elder official presented to the judge his favorite fur bonnet. Reared in Court circles, he had learned to conceal his feelings. But he could not help raising one eyebrow as he looked at the old, worn fur.

"It is a rare honor," the younger official said suavely, "to be appointed directly to the exalted office of President. As a rule the August choice is made from among the elder Provincial Governors. And Your Excellency is only about fifty-five years old, I presume!"

Judge Dee reflected that the man was not very observant, he could have seen that he was barely forty-six. But as he looked in his mirror he saw to his utter amazement that during the past few days his black beard and whiskers had turned gray.

He sorted out the files on his desk, giving some brief explanations to the two officials. When he came to the file with his project for the farmer loans, on which he had worked so often with Sergeant Hoong, he could not help waxing enthusiastic. The two officials listened politely, but he soon perceived that they were plainly bored. With a sigh he closed the file. He remembered his father's words: "It's very lonely—at the top."

Judge Dee's three lieutenants were sitting in the guardhouse, around the log fire that was blazing in the middle of the stone floor. They had been talking about Sergeant Hoong; now they were looking silently into the flames.

Then Tao Gan said suddenly:

"I wonder whether I could interest those two panjandrums from the capital in a friendly little game of dice tonight!"

Ma Joong looked up.

"No more dice for you, Mister Secretary," he growled. "You'll have to learn to live up to your high status now. And Heaven be praised that now I'll be spared the dismal sight of that greasy caftan of yours."

"When we are in the capital I'll have it turned," Tao Gan re­plied placidly. "And no more vulgar fisticuffs for you, Ma Joong. Besides, isn't it time that you left the rough work to younger ones, eh, brother? I see gray hairs on your head, my friend."

Ma Joong felt his knees with his large hands.

"Well," he said ruefully, "I admit that I am getting a bit stiff in the limbs, now and then." Suddenly his face lit up in a broad grin. "But, brother, fine fellows like us will have the pick of the wenches in the capital!"

"Don't forget the competition of the young coxcombs in the capital," Tao Gan remarked dryly.

Ma Joong's face fell. He pensively scratched his head.

"Shut up, old sour-face!" Chiao Tai barked at Tao Gan. "Granted that we are getting on a bit in years and even enjoy a good night's rest sleeping alone, sometimes. But, brothers, there's one thing that'll never leave us!"

He raised his hand as if lifting a cup.

"The amber liquid!" Ma Joong shouted as he sprang up. "Come along, brothers, we'll go to the best place in town!"

Taking Tao Gan in their midst, they marched him off to the main gate.