The Emperor's Pearl

XII

The judge guided his horse in a western direction. Miss Liang's information had introduced an entirely new element into the murder cases. He had therefore decided to make one more call before going back to the tribunal.

Arrived at the Temple of Confucius, he halted in front of a neatly plastered, two-storied building across the street. The windows of the ground floor were provided with iron bars, those of the second floor had a row of long spikes all along the sill to prevent thieves from climbing up there. A discreet small signboard over the door bore the name of the shop: 'Treasurehouse of Antiquity '. The judge dismounted and fastened the reins to a stone post, where an awning provided shade for his horse.

The young shop-assistant came to meet him with a broad smile.

'Mr Yang has just come back, sir ! He rode out to a farm where they had dug up an old inscribed stone. He is now in his study upstairs.'

He led Judge Dee along the cupboards crammed with smaller and larger antiques to the staircase at the back.

The spacious room upstairs was artificially cooled by two copper basins on the floor, piled with iceblocks. A diffuse light filtered through the two high windows, covered by paper screens. Faded scroll paintings hung on the wall space in between, and against the side wall stood a rack piled with dog-eared books.

The huge curio-dealer was sitting at a table of polished ebony. Leaning back in his armchair, he was examining a slender vase of red porcelain which he held in his large hands. When his assistant announced the arrival of the magistrate, Yang carefully set the vase down on the table, then quickly got up. He made a low bow, pulled up another armchair to the table and said in his booming voice:

'Your Honour doubtless wants to see that fine painting I mentioned last night ! It'll be found worth an inspection, I trust ! But let me first offer you a cup of tea, sir!'

Judge Dee sat down and accepted a round silk fan from the assistant.

'I shall be grateful for a cup of tea, Mr Yang,' he said, fanning himself, 'but the painting will have to wait till some other time. I dropped in here in order to obtain some information. Confidentially.'

The curio-dealer motioned his assistant to leave them alone. He himself poured out the tea, then he sat back in his chair, looking expectantly at his visitor with his shrewd eyes.

'I am faced with no less than three murders, Mr Yang,' the judge began. 'You know about Tong Mai and the Amber Lady, and you will probably have heard already that this morning Sia Kwang was found murdered too.'

'Sia Kwang? No, I hadn't heard. Just came in, as a matter of fact. Now, I remember that name! Someone told me that a peddler of curios called Sia Kwang associated with all kind of riff-raff, and warned me against having dealings with him. So one of his disreputable friends knifed him, eh?'

'His murder must be connected with the two other crimes. I don't mind telling you that I find myself up against a blank wall. It would greatly help me if I knew a little more about the persons who had relations with the victims, so as to give me at least an idea of the background of those appalling crimes.' He took a sip from his tea, and continued with a smile: 'I have a high opinion, not only of your knowledge of antiques, Mr Yang, but also of your knowledge of your fellow men. Hence I came to you.'

Yang made a bow.

'I feel most flattered, Your Honour! I must stress, how­ever, that, apart from my customers, I don't see much of the townspeople, and hear little of the local gossip. Since my wife died six years ago, and my two sons established their own business down south, I have lived only for my business and for my antiquarian studies. I lead a monk's life more or less, you know! I look after my simple needs myself, don't want clumsy maids around the house who break my best vases! At night no one disturbs me, for my assistant comes in for the day only. This is the kind of life I had always been looking forward to, sir. But it implies that I have lost touch with what is going on in this town!'

'The persons I am interested in are your customers, Mr Yang. What about Dr Pien, for instance?'

Yang emptied his cup, folded his arms and replied:

'Dr Pien collects jade. It stands to reason; old jade is supposed to possess medicinal qualities, hence most physi­cians and pharmacists develop an interest in it. The doctor has a small but fairly representative collection. He uses the pieces for study, he isn't interested in their commercial value at all. In this respect he is quite the opposite of his colleague in the drug business, Mr Kwang Min. Mr Kwang often has very valuable pieces, but he buys those purely as an invest­ment, to be re-sold at the first opportunity. Mr Kwang is a keen businessman, first and foremost! Mr Kou Yuan-liang buys from him occasionally. Not me, his prices are too high.'

'I have met Mr Kwang. I thought he lived in the capital,' Judge Dee remarked.

'He does indeed. But he travels a great deal, and he visits Poo-yang at least every two months or so. But that's con­fidential, sir!'

THE JUDGE HAS TEA IN A CURIO-SHOP

'Why?'

'Because,' Yang replied with a sly smile, 'Mr Kwang also supplies Dr Pien's competitors here with drugs. Besides, Mr Kwang asked me to keep his visits to Poo-yang secret because of another reason too. He explained to me that he bought very cheaply a piece of land adjoining the Mandrake Grove some years ago — through the intermediary of Dr Pien. Mr Kwang made Dr Pien believe that he bought it just as an investment. In fact, however, Kwang has been sending his men there to gather the plant, on the edge of the grove. If Dr Pien knew that, he would of course ask Kwang to pay him a commission. As I said before, Mr Kwang is a very shrewd businessman indeed!'

'Quite,' Judge Dee said. He reflected that Kwang, without actually telling lies, had yet succeeded in giving him an entirely wrong impression of his activities. And, since that blandly courteous gentleman collected curios for gain, he might well have employed Tong or Sia to locate bargains for him—and for other purposes too, perhaps. He asked:

'Do you happen to know where Mr Kwang usually stays when he is here in Poo-yang?'

'If he doesn't stay on his junk, he rents a room in the Hostel of the Eight Immortals, sir. A very small, cheap inn,' he added with a deprecating smile.

'I know the place. Mr Kwang is certainly a parsimonious man!'

'Money means everything to him, Your Honour. He doesn't care a fig for antiques, for him it's just a side-line to make money. Mr Kou Yuan-liang — now there's a real col­lector for you! Doesn't mind what he pays as long as he gets the best! Can afford it too, the lucky fellow!' He pensively rubbed his chin, then resumed, somewhat diffi­dently: 'As to me, I am a mixture of both, more or less. My business is buying and selling, of course, but I fall in.'

'Now that I am here I may as well ask your opinion on quite another matter. You are of course familiar with the famous story about the Emperor's pearl that was stolen about a hundred years ago. Have you any theories about that old mystery?'

'The search was so thorough, sir, that I am convinced that it was the Empress herself who took the pearl and concealed it about her person. Just to have an opportunity for having a few rivals in the Emperor's love tortured to death! That aim achieved, she threw the pearl in a deep well or somewhere. Many a tragedy takes place behind the golden gates of the Imperial Harem, Your Honour! Besides, why should somebody steal a thing that he could never sell?'

'Suppose that the pearl was really stolen, though, Mr Yang. Would there have been absolutely no way of turning it into cash?'

'Not within our Empire, sir. But, if the thief had good relations among the Arab or Persian merchants residing in Canton, he could sell the pearl perhaps to one of them — at a fraction of the real value of course — to be re-sold in a distant barbarian country. That would be the one and only way to dispose of it without getting into serious trouble.'

'I see. Well, I must go now, I still have to make the neces­sary preparations for the noon session. By the way, have you ever visited that ruined temple in the Mandrake Grove?'

Yang's face fell.

'Unfortunately not, Your Honour! There's no passable road through the dense forest, and the local people would resent attempts to get inside. I have a good description of it, though.' He got up, walked over the book-rack and took down a volume. Handing it to the judge, he said: 'This book was published privately by one of Your Honour's predecessors.'

Judge Dee leafed it through, then gave it back.

'We have our own copy in the chancery,' he said. 'Quite an interesting book. It gives a good description of the marble statue of the goddess.'

'What wouldn't I give to see that statue once!' the curio-dealer said wistfully. 'It is said to date from the Han dynasty and to have been carved from one single block of marble, together with the pedestal. The square altar stand­ing in front of it is also of marble, it was there that they killed the young men dedicated to the goddess. An important relic of the past, sir! Couldn't Your Honour propose to the Ministry of Rites to have the forest cleared and the temple restored? If the Ministry would explain that portents have signified that the goddess is angry about the neglect of her temple, the local population wouldn't oppose the plan, I think. That temple could be made into one of the historic sites of our district, sir!'

'That's an excellent suggestion. I'll certainly keep it in mind. I don't like to have in my district a closed-off area shrouded in mystery. Heaven knows what may go on there!' He got up and added: 'Well, I am much obliged to you, Mr Yang!'

While the curio-dealer was conducting the judge down­stairs he said:

'I'll go to the tribunal too presently, sir. Practically all the people concerned with the victims are my customers, so I feel it's my duty to attend the session!'