Judge Dee at Work

FIVE AUSPICIOUS CLOUDS

This case occurred in A.D. 663 when Judge Dec had been serving only a week in his first independent official post — Magistrate of Peng-lai, a remote district on the north-east coast of the Chinese Empire. Directly upon his arrival there he had been confronted with three mysterious crimes, des­cribed in my novel The Chinese Gold Murders. In that story mention was made of the flourishing shipbuilding industry of Peng-lai, and of Mr Yee Pen, the wealthy shipowner. The present story opens in Judge Dee's private office in the tri­bunal, where he is in conference with Yee Pen and two other gentlemen; they have just finished discussing at length Judge Dee's proposal for bringing the shipbuilding industry under government control.

'Well, gentlemen,' Judge Dee said with a satisfied smile to his three guests, 'that settles it then, I think.'

The conference in his private office had begun at about two o'clock, and now it was already past five. But he thought that the time had been well spent.

'The rules we drafted seem to cover all possible contingencies,' Mr Ho remarked in his precise voice. He was a soberly dressed, middle-aged man, a retired secretary of the Minister of Justice. Looking at Hwa Min, the wealthy shipowner on his right, he added, 'You'll agree, Mr Hwa, that our draft provides for an equit­able settlement of your differences with your colleague Mr Yee Pen here.'

Hwa Min made a face. ' "Equitable" is a nice word,' he said dryly, 'but as a merchant I like the word "profitable" even better! If I had been given a free hand in competing with my friend Mr Yee, the result might not have been exactly equitable, no... . But it would have been eminently profitable — for me!'

'Shipbuilding affects our coastal defence,' Judge Dee observed stiffly. 'The Imperial Government does not allow a private mono­poly. We have spent the entire afternoon on this matter and, thanks also to the excellent technical advice of Mr Ho, we have now drafted this document setting forth clearly the rules all ship­owners are to follow. I shall expect both of you to keep to those rules.'

Mr Yee Pen nodded ponderously. The judge liked this shrewd, but honest businessman. He thought less of Mr Hwa Min, who he knew was not averse to shady deals, and who often had woman-trouble. Judge Dee gave a sign to the clerk to refill the teacups, then he leaned back in his chair. It had been a hot day, but now a cool breeze had risen, wafting into the small office the scent of the magnolia tree outside the window.

Mr Yee set his cup down and gave Ho and Hwa Min a question­ing look. It was time for them to take their leave.

Suddenly the door opened and Sergeant Hoong, Judge Dee's trusted old adviser, came in. He stepped up to the desk and said: 'There's someone outside with an urgent message, Your Honour.'

Judge Dee had caught his look. 'Excuse me for one moment,' he said to his three guests. He rose and followed the sergeant outside.

When they were standing in the corridor, the sergeant told him in a low voice, 'It's Mr Ho's house steward, sir. He came to report to his master that Mrs Ho has committed suicide.'

'Almighty heaven!’ the judge exclaimed. 'Tell him to wait. I'd better break this bad news to Ho myself. How did she do it?'

'She hanged herself, Your Honour. In their garden pavilion, during the siesta. The steward came rushing out here at once.'

'Too bad for Mr Ho. I like the fellow. A bit on the dry side, but very conscientious. And a clever jurist.'

He sadly shook his head, then re-entered his office. After he had sat down again behind his desk, he addressed Ho gravely: 'It was your house steward, Mr Ho. He came with shocking news. About Mrs Ho.'

Ho grasped the armrests of his chair. 'About my wife?'

'It seems that she committed suicide, Mr Ho.'

Mr Ho half-rose, then let himself sink back again into his chair. He said in a toneless voice, 'So it happened, just as I feared. She ... she was very depressed, these last weeks.' He passed his hand over his eyes, then asked: 'How ... how did she do it, sir?'

'Your steward reported that she hanged herself. He is waiting now to take you home, Mr Ho. I'll send the coroner along at once, to draw up the death certificate. You will want to have the for­malities over and done with as quickly as possible, of course.'

Mr Ho did not seem to have heard him. 'Dead!' he muttered. 'Only a few hours after I had left her! What shall I do?'

'We'll help you with everything of course, Mr Ho,' Hwa Min said consolingly. He added a few words of condolence, in which Yee Pen joined. But Ho did not seem to have heard them. He was staring into space, his face drawn. Suddenly he looked up at the judge and spoke after some hesitation:

'I need time, sir, a little time to ... I don't like to presume upon your kindness, sir, but ... would it perhaps be possible for Your Honour to get someone to attend to the formalities on my behalf? Then I can go home after ... after the autopsy, and when the dead body has been ...' He let his voice trail off, giving the judge a pleading look.

'Of course, Mr Ho!' Judge Dee replied briskly. 'You remain here and have another cup of tea. I'll go personally to your house with the coroner, and a temporary coffin will be prepared. It's the least I can do. You have never grudged me your valuable advice, and today again you have devoted your entire afternoon to the business of this tribunal. No, I insist, Mr Ho! You two look after our friend, gentlemen. I'll be back here in half an hour or so.'

Sergeant Hoong was waiting in the courtyard, together with a small rotund man with a black goatee. Hoong presented him as Ho's house steward. Judge Dee told him, 'I have informed Mr Ho already; you can return now, steward. I'll be along presently.' He added to Sergeant Hoong, 'You'd better go back to the chan­cery, Hoong, and sort out the official papers that have come in. We'll have a look at them together after I get back. Where are my two lieutenants?'

'Ma Joong and Chiao Tai are in the main courtyard, sir, putting the guards through their drill.'

'Good. I need only the headman and two of his men to go to Mr Ho's house. They'll place the dead body in the coffin. When Ma Joong and Chiao Tai are through with the drill, they can retire. I shan't need them tonight. Get the coroner and have my official palankeen brought out!'

In the small front courtyard of Mr Ho's modest residence the small, obese steward stood waiting for the judge. Two red-eyed maids were hovering near the gatehouse. The headman helped Judge Dee to alight from his palankeen. The judge ordered him to wait with the two constables in the courtyard, then told the steward to conduct him and the coroner to the pavilion.

The small man led them along the open corridor that circled the house to an extensive garden, surrounded by a high wall. He took them down a well-kept path winding among the flowering shrubs to the farthest corner. There, in the shade of two tall oak trees, stood an octagonal pavilion, built on a round brick platform. The pointed, green-tiled roof was topped by a gilded globe, and the pillars and the intricate lattice-work of the windows were lacquered a bright red. The judge went up the four marble steps and pulled the door open.

It was hot in the small but high room, the pungent smell of some outlandish incense hung heavily in the close air. Judge Dee's eyes went at once to the bamboo couch against the wall on the right. The still figure of a woman was stretched out on it. The face was turned to the wall; he saw only the thick strands of glossy hair spilling out over her shoulders. She was clad in a summer robe of white silk, her small feet were shod in white satin shoes. Turning round to the coroner, Judge Dee said:

'You go ahead and examine her while I prepare the death certificate. Open the windows, steward, it is very stuffy in here.'

The judge took an official form from his sleeve and put it ready on the side table beside the door. Then he idly surveyed the room. On the centre table of carved rosewood stood a tea-tray with two cups. The square teapot had been knocked over; it was lying with its spout half across a flat brass box. A length of red silk cord was lying next to it. Two high-backed chairs stood by the table. Ex­cept for two racks of spotted bamboo between the windows, hold­ing books and a few small antiques, there was no other furniture. The upper half of the walls was covered with wooden tablets, inscribed with famous poems. There was an atmosphere of quiet, elegant taste.

The steward had pushed open the last window. Now he came up to the judge and pointed to the thick, red-lacquered beams running across the dome-shaped ceiling. From the central beam dangled a red cord, its end frayed.

'We found her hanging there, sir. The chambermaid and I.'

Judge Dee nodded. 'Was Mrs Ho depressed this morning?'

'Oh no, sir, she was in high spirits at the noon meal. But when Mr Hwa Min came to visit the master, she ...'

'Hwa Min, you say? What did he come here for? He was going to meet Mr Ho in my office at two!'

The steward looked embarrassed. After some hesitation he replied, 'While I was serving tea to the two gentlemen in the reception room, sir, I couldn't help hearing what was being said. I understand that Mr Hwa wanted my master to give Your Honour advice during the conference that would be advantageous to him. He even offered my master a substantial ah ... reward. My master refused indignantly, of course... .'

The coroner stepped up to the judge. 'I'd like to show Your Honour something rather odd!’ he said.

Noticing the coroner's worried expression, Judge Dee ordered the steward curtly: 'Go and fetch Mrs Ho's chambermaid!' Then he went over to the couch. The coroner had turned the dead woman's head round. The face was badly distorted, but one could still see that she had been a handsome woman. The judge put her age at about thirty. The coroner pushed the hair aside and showed the judge a bad bruise above the left temple.

'This is one point that worries me, sir,' he said slowly. 'The second is that the death was caused by strangulation, but none of the vertebrae of the neck has been dislocated. Now I measured the length of the cord dangling from that beam up there, of the noose lying on the table and of the woman herself. It's easy to see how she could have done it. She stepped on that chair, then onto the table. She threw the cord over the beam, tied one end in a slip-knot and pulled it tight round the beam. Then she made the other end into a noose, put it round her neck and jumped from the table, upsetting the teapot. While she was hanging there, her feet must have been only a few inches from the floor. The noose slowly strangled her, but her neck was not broken. I can't help wondering why she didn't put the other chair on the table, then jump down from it. A drop like that would have broken her neck, ensuring a quick death. If one combines this fact with the bruise on her temple...' He broke off and gave the judge a meaningful look.

'You are right,' Judge Dee said. He took the official form and put it back in his sleeve. Heaven only knew when he would be able to issue the death certificate! He sighed and asked: 'What about the time of death?'

That's hard to say, Your Honour. The body is still warm, and the limbs haven't yet begun to stiffen. But in this hot weather, and in this closed room ...'

The judge nodded absentmindedly. He was staring at the brass box. It had the shape of a pentagon with rounded corners, measur­ing about a foot in diameter, and about an inch high. The brass cover showed a cut-out design of five interconnected spirals. Through it one could see the brown powder that filled the box to the brim.

The coroner followed his glance. 'That's an incense-clock,' he remarked.

'It is indeed. The pattern excised in the cover is that of the Five Auspicious Clouds, each cloud being represented by one spiral. If one lights the incense at the beginning of the design, it'll slowly burn on along the spirals of the pattern, as if it were a fuse. Look, the tea spilling from the spout of the teapot moistened the centre of the third spiral, extinguishing the incense about halfway through that part of the design. If we could find out when exactly this incense-clock was lit, and how long it took the fire to reach the centre of the third spiral, we would be able to establish the approximate time of the suicide. Or rather of the ...'

Judge Dee checked himself, for the steward had come in. He was accompanied by a portly woman of about fifty, in a neat brown dress. Her round face still showed traces of tears. As soon as she had seen the still figure on the couch, she burst out in sobs.

'How long has she been with Mrs Ho?' Judge Dee asked the steward.

'More than twenty years, Your Honour. She belonged to Mrs Ho's own family, and three years ago followed her here, after Mr Ho had married her. She is not too bright, but a good woman. The mistress was very fond of her.'

THE DESIGN OF THE INCENSE-CLOCK

'Calm yourself!’ the judge addressed the maid. 'This must be a terrible shock for you, but if you answer my questions promptly, we'll be able to have the body properly placed in a coffin very soon. Tell me, are you familiar with this incense-clock?'

She wiped her face with her sleeve and replied listlessly, 'Of course I am, sir. It burns exactly five hours, each spiral taking one hour. Just before I left, the mistress complained of the musty air here, and I lit the incense.'

'What time was that?'

'It was getting on for two, sir.'

'That was the last time you saw your mistress alive, wasn't it?'

'Yes, sir. When Mr Hwa was talking with the master in the reception room, over in the house, I took my mistress here. Soon after the master came in, to see that she was comfortably estab­lished for her siesta. She told me to pour two cups of tea, adding that she wouldn't need me again until five o'clock, and that I'd better take a nap also. She was always so considerate! I went back to the house and told the steward to lay out in the main bedroom the master's new grey dress, for the conference in the tribunal. Then the master came too. After the steward had helped him to change, the master told me to fetch Mr Hwa. They left the house together.'

'Where was Mr Hwa?'

'I found him in the garden, sir, admiring the flowers.'

'That's right,' the steward remarked. 'After the conversation in the reception room I just told Your Honour about, the master asked Mr Hwa to excuse him while he said good-bye to Mrs Ho in the pavilion and changed. It seems that Mr Hwa, left alone in the reception room, got bored and went outside to have a look at the garden.'

'I see. Now who discovered the body first, you or this maid?'

'I did, sir,' the maid replied. 'I came here a little before five o'clock, and I ... I saw her hanging there, from that beam. I rushed out and called the steward.'

'I stood on the chair at once,' the steward said, 'and cut the cord while the maid put her arms round her. I prised the cord loose, and then we carried her to the couch. Breathing and heart­beat had stopped. We tried to revive her with vigorous massage, but it was too late. I hurried to the tribunal to report to the master. If I had discovered her earlier ...'

'You did what you could, steward. Let me see now. You told me that during the noon meal Mrs Ho was in high spirits, until the arrival of Mr Hwa, right?'

'Yes, sir. When Mrs Ho heard me announce Mr Hwa's arrival to the master, she turned pale and quickly withdrew to the side room. I saw that she ...'

'You must be mistaken!' the maid interrupted crossly. 'I accom­panied her when she went from the side room to the pavilion, and I didn't notice that she was upset!’

The steward was about to make an angry retort, but Judge Dee held up his hand and said curtly to him: 'Go to the gatehouse, and ask the gatekeeper what persons he admitted to the house after your master and Mr Hwa had left — why they came and how long they stayed. Hurry up!’

When the steward had scurried away, Judge Dee sat down at the table. Slowly caressing his sidewhiskers, he silently studied the woman who was standing in front of him with downcast eyes. Then he spoke: 'Your mistress is dead. It is your duty to tell us everything that might help to find the person who either directly or indirectly caused her death. Speak up, why did the arrival of Mr Hwa distress her?'

The maid darted a frightened look at him. She replied diffi­dently: 'I really don't know, sir! I only know that in the past two weeks she went twice to visit Mr Hwa, without Mr Ho know­ing it. I wanted to go with her, but Mr Fung said ...' She sud­denly broke off. Growing red in the face, she angrily bit her lip.

'Who is Mr Fung?' Judge Dee asked sharply.

She deliberated for a while, her forehead creased in a deep frown. Then she shrugged her shoulders and answered, 'Well, it's bound to come out, and they didn't do anything wrong anyway! Mr Fung is a painter, sir, very poor and in bad health. He used to live in a small hovel near our house. Six years ago the father of my mistress, the retired prefect, engaged Mr Fung to teach my mistress to paint flowers. She was only twenty-two then, and he was such a handsome young man. ... No wonder they fell in love with each other. Mr Fung is such a nice man, Your Honour, and his father was a famous scholar. But he lost all his money, and ...'

'Never mind that! Were they lovers?'

The maid shook her head emphatically and replied quickly, 'Never, sir! Mr Fung had planned to ask somebody to approach the old prefect regarding a marriage. It's true that he was desper­ately poor, but since he belonged to such an illustrious family there was hope that the prefect would consent. Just at that time, however, Mr Fung's cough grew worse. He consulted a physician and was told that he was suffering from an incurable lung disease, and would die young. ... Mr Fung told her that they could never marry, it had all been but a brief dream of spring. He would go away to a distant place. But she implored him to stay; she said they could still remain friends, and that she wanted to be near him should the disease grow worse... .'

'Did they continue to meet after Mr Ho had married your mistress?'

'Yes, sir. Here in the pavilion. But only during the daytime, and I was always there. I swear that he never even touched her hand, sir!'

'Did Mr Ho know about those visits?' 'No, of course not! We would wait till the master was away for the day, then I would take a note from my mistress to Mr Fung, and he would slip inside by the garden door and have a cup of tea with her here in the pavilion. I know these occasional visits were the only thing that kept Mr Fung going, all through the last three years, after my mistress married. And she enjoyed their talks so much! And I was there, always... .'

'You connived at clandestine meetings,' the judge said harshly. 'And probably at murder. For your mistress did not commit suicide, she was killed. At half past four, to be precise.'

'But how could Mr Fung have anything to do with that, Your Honour?' the maid wailed.

'That's what I am going to find out,' the judge said grimly. He turned to the coroner. 'Let's go to the gatehouse!'

The headman and his two constables were sitting on the stone bench in the front courtyard. Springing to attention, the head­man saluted and asked, 'Shall I tell my men to fetch a temporary coffin, sir?'

'No, not yet,' the judge said gruffly, and walked on.

In the doorkeeper's lodge the small steward was cursing a wizened old man in a long blue gown. Two grinning palankeen-bearers were looking inside through the window, and listening with relish.

'This man maintains that nobody came to the house, Your Honour,' the steward said angrily. 'But the old fool confessed that he took a nap between three and four. Disgraceful!'

Disregarding this remark, the judge asked abruptly: 'Do you know a painter called Fung?'

The astonished steward shook his head, but the elder coolie called out, 'I know Mr Fung, Excellency! He often buys a bowl of noodles at my father's stall round the corner. He rents an attic over the grocery, behind this house. I saw him standing about near our garden gate an hour or so ago.'

Judge Dee turned to the coroner and said: 'Let this coolie take you to Mr Fung's place, and bring him here. On no account let Mr Fung know about Mrs Ho's demise!' Then he ordered the steward: 'Lead me to the reception room. I shall see Mr Fung there.'

The reception room proved to be rather small, but the simple furniture was of good quality. The steward offered the judge a comfortable armchair at the centre table, and poured him a cup of tea. Then he discreetly withdrew.

Slowly sipping the tea, Judge Dee reflected with satisfaction that the murderer had now been traced. He hoped the coroner would find the painter in, so that he could interrogate him at once.

Sooner than he had expected the coroner entered with a tall, thin man of about thirty, clad in a threadbare but clean blue robe, fastened with a black cotton sash. He had a rather dis­tinguished face, with a short black moustache. A few locks of hair came out from under the faded black cap he was wearing. The judge took in his large, rather too brilliant eyes, and the red spots on the hollow cheeks. He motioned him to take the chair on the other side of the table. The coroner poured a cup of tea for the guest, then remained standing behind his chair.

'I have heard about your work, Mr Fung,' the judge began affably. 'I have been looking forward to making your acquain­tance.'

The painter straightened his robe with a long, sensitive hand. Then he spoke in a cultured voice: 'I feel most flattered by your interest, sir. Yet I find it hard to believe that Your Honour urgently summoned me here to Mr Ho's house just to engage in a leisurely talk about artistic matters.'

'Not in the first place, no. An accident has occurred in the gar­den here, Mr Fung, and I am looking for witnesses.'

Fung sat up in his chair. He asked worriedly: 'An accident? Not involving Mrs Ho, I trust?'

'It did indeed involve her, Mr Fung. It occurred between four and five, in the pavilion. And you came to see her at that time.'

'What has happened to her?' the painter burst out.

'You ought to know the answer to that yourself!' Judge Dee said coldly. 'For it was you who murdered her!’

'She is dead!' Fung exclaimed. He buried his face in his hands. His narrow shoulders were shaking. When after a long time he looked up, he had himself under control again. He asked in a measured voice: 'Would you kindly inform me, sir, why I should have murdered the woman I loved more than anything else in the world?'

'Your motive was fear of exposure. After her marriage you con­tinued to force your attentions on her. She grew tired of it and told you that if you didn't stop seeing her she would inform her husband. Today you two had a violent quarrel, and you killed her.'

The painter nodded slowly. 'Yes,' he said resignedly, 'that would be a plausible explanation, I suppose. And I was indeed at the garden gate at the time you mentioned.'

'Did she know you were coming?'

'Yes. This morning a street urchin brought me a note from her. It said that she had to see me, on an urgent matter. If I would come at about half past four to the garden gate, and knock four times as usual, the maid would let me in.'

'What happened after you had gone inside?'

'I didn't go inside. I knocked several times, but the gate re­mained closed. I walked up and down there for a while, and having made one more fruitless attempt, I went back home.'

'Show me her note!'

'I can't, for I destroyed it. As she told me to.'

'So you deny having killed her?'

Fung shrugged his shoulders. 'If you are certain that you won't be able to discover the real criminal, sir, I am perfectly willing to say I killed her, just to help you dispose of the case. I'll be dead before long anyway, and whether I die in bed or on the scaffold is all the same to me. Her death has robbed me of my last reason for prolonging this miserable life. For my other love, my art, has already left me long ago — this lingering illness seems to destroy the creative impulse. If, on the other hand, you think it possible to trace the cruel fiend who murdered this innocent woman, then there's no earthly reason why I should confuse the issue by con­fessing to a crime I did not commit.'

Judge Dee gave him a long look, pensively tugging at his moustache. 'Was Mrs Ho in the habit of sending you her messages through a street urchin?'

'No, sir. Her maid always brought the notes, and this was the first time it contained the request to burn it. But it was hers all right, I am familiar with her style and her handwriting.' A violent attack of coughing interrupted him. He wiped his mouth with a paper handkerchief, looked for a moment indifferently at the flecks of blood, then resumed, 'I can't imagine what urgent matter she wanted to discuss. And who would have wanted her dead? I have known her and her family for more than ten years, and I can assure you that they didn't have an enemy in the world!' Fingering his moustache, he added, 'Her marriage was a reason­ably happy one. Ho is a bit dull, but he is genuinely fond of her, always kind and considerate. Never spoke of taking a concubine, although she hadn't born him a child. And she liked and respected him.'

'Which did not prevent her from continuing to meet you behind his back!' the judge remarked dryly. 'Most reprehensible behaviour for a married woman. Not to mention you!’

The painter gave him a haughty look.

'You wouldn't understand,' he said coldly. 'You are caught in a net of empty rules and meaningless conventions. There was nothing reprehensible about our friendship, I tell you. The only reason we kept our meetings secret was because Ho is a rather old-fashioned man who would interpret our relations as wrongly as you seem to do. We didn't want to hurt him.'

'Most considerate of you! Since you knew Mrs Ho so well, you can doubtless tell me why she was often depressed of late?'

'Oh yes. The fact is that her father, the old prefect, didn't manage his finances too well, and got deeply in debt with that wealthy shipowner Hwa Min. Since a month or so that heartless usurer has been pressing the old man to transfer his land to him, in lieu of payment, but the prefect wants to keep it. It has be­longed to his family for heaven knows how many generations, and moreover he feels responsible for the welfare of the tenant farmers. Hwa would squeeze the last copper out of those poor devils! The old man begged Hwa to wait till after the harvest, then he'd be able to pay Hwa at least the atrocious interest due. But Hwa insists on foreclosing, so as to get that land into his hands cheaply. Mrs Ho kept worrying about this affair, she made me take her to see Hwa twice. She did her best to persuade him to drop his demand for immediate payment, but the dirty rat said he would consider that only if she let him sleep with her!'

'Did Mr Ho know about those visits?'

'He didn't. We knew how much it would distress him to hear that his father-in-law was in financial trouble while he could do nothing to help him. Mr Ho has no private means, you know. He has to depend on his modest pension for his living.'

'You two were indeed very kind towards Mr Ho!'

'He deserved it; he is a decent fellow. The only thing he couldn't give his wife was intellectual companionship, and that she found in me.'

'I never saw such a complete lack of the most elementary morality!' the judge exclaimed disgustedly. He got up and ordered the coroner: 'Hand this man over to the headman, to be locked up in jail as a murder suspect. Thereafter you and the two con­stables convey Mrs Ho's dead body to the tribunal, and conduct a thorough autopsy. Report to me as soon as you are through. You'll find me in my private office.'

He left, angrily shaking his long sleeves.

Mr Ho and the two shipowners were waiting in Judge Dee's private office, attended upon by a clerk. They wanted to rise when the judge came in, but he motioned them to remain seated. He took the armchair behind his desk, and told the clerk to refill the teacups.

'Has everything been settled, Your Honour?' Mr Ho asked in a dull voice.

Judge Dee emptied his cup, then rested his forearms on the desk and replied slowly, 'Not quite, Mr Ho. I have bad news for you. I found that your wife did not commit suicide. She was mur­dered.'

Mr Ho uttered a suppressed cry. Mr Hwa and Mr Yee ex­changed an astonished look. Then Ho blurted out, 'Murdered? Who did it? And why, in the name of heaven?'

'The evidence points to a painter, by the name of Fung.'

'Fung? A painter? Never heard of him!'

'I warned you the news was bad, Mr Ho. Very bad. Before you married your wife, she had friendly relations with this painter. After the marriage the two kept on seeing each other secretly, in the garden pavilion. It is possible that she grew tired of him and wanted to end the liaison. Knowing that you would be here all afternoon, she may have sent Fung a note asking him to come and see her. And if she then told him that they were through, he may well have killed her.'

Ho sat there staring straight ahead, his thin lips compressed. Yee and Hwa looked embarrassed; they made to get up and leave the judge and Ho alone. But Judge Dee gave them a peremptory sign to stay where they were. At last Mr Ho looked up and asked: 'How did the villain kill her?'

'She was knocked unconscious by a blow on her temple, then strung up by the neck to a beam and strangled. The murderer upset a teapot, and the tea from it extinguished the fire of the incense-clock, establishing half past four or thereabouts as the time he committed his evil deed. I may add that a witness saw the painter Fung loitering about at that time near your garden gate.'

There was a knock on the door. The coroner came in and handed a document to the judge. Quickly glancing through the autopsy report, he saw that the cause of death had indeed been slow strangulation. Beyond the bruise on the temple the body bore no other marks of violence. She had been in the third month of pregnancy.

Judge Dee folded the paper up slowly and put it into his sleeve. Then he said to the coroner, 'Tell the headman to set free the man he put in jail. That person will have to wait a while in the guard­room, though. I may want to question him again later.'

When the coroner had left, Mr Ho got up. He said in a hoarse voice, 'If Your Honour will allow me, I'll now take my leave. I must ...'

'Not yet, Mr Ho,' the judge interrupted. 'I want to ask you a question first. Here in front of Mr Hwa and Mr Yee.'

Ho sat down again with a perplexed look.

'You left your wife in the pavilion at about two o'clock, Mr Ho,' Judge Dee resumed. 'And you were here in this office till five, when your steward came to report your wife's demise. For all we know she could have died any time between two and five. Yet when I told you about her suicide you said: "Only a few hours after I had left her ..." as Mr Hwa and Mr Yee here will attest. How did you know that she died at about half past four?'

Ho made no answer. He stared at the judge with wide, un­believing eyes. Judge Dee went on, his voice suddenly harsh:

'I'll tell you! Because when you had killed your wife at two o'clock, directly after the maid had left the pavilion, you inten­tionally spilled the tea over the incense-clock. You apparently consider me a fairly competent investigator — thank you. You knew that if I visited the scene I would discover that your wife had been murdered, and deduct from the incense-clock that the deed had been done at about half past four. You also assumed that I would find out sooner or later that Fung had been at the garden gate at about that time — lured there by the faked note you had sent him. It was a clever scheme, Ho, worthy of an expert in juridical affairs. But the carefully faked time element proved to be your undoing. You kept telling yourself: I can never be suspected, because the time of the murder is clearly established at half past four. And so you inadvertently made that slip about "a few hours after I had left her". At that time the remark didn't strike me as odd. But as soon as I realized that if Fung was not the murderer it had to be you, I remembered those words, and that provided the final proof of your guilt. The Five Auspicious Clouds didn't prove very auspicious for you, Mr Ho!’

Ho righted himself. He asked coldly: 'Why should I want to murder my wife?'

'I'll tell you. You had found out about her secret meetings with Fung, and when she told you she was pregnant you decided to destroy them both, with one and the same blow. You assumed that Fung was the father of the unborn child and ...'

'He was not!' Ho suddenly shrieked. 'Do you think that miserable wretch could ever have ... No, it was my child, do you hear? The only thing those two were capable of was sicken­ing, sentimental drivel! And all the kind words I overheard them saying about me! ... the decent but rather dull husband, who was entitled to her body, mind you, but who could of course never understand her sublime mind. I could, I could have ...' He began to stutter in impotent rage. Then he took hold of him­self and went on in a calmer voice, 'I didn't want the child of a woman with the mind of a streetwalker, a woman who ...'

'That'll do!’ Judge Dee said curtly. He clapped his hands. When the headman came in he said, 'Put this murderer into chains and lock him up. I shall hear his full confession tomorrow, in the tribunal.'

After the headman had led Ho away, the judge continued to Yee Pen, 'The clerk shall see you out, Mr Yee.' Turning to the other shipowner, he added, 'As for you, Mr Hwa, you'll stay a few moments: I want a word with you in private.'

When the two men were alone, Hwa said unctuously, 'Your Honour solved this crime in a remarkably short time! To think that Ho ...' He sadly shook his head.

Judge Dee gave him a sour look. 'I was not too happy with Fung as a suspect,' he remarked dryly. 'The evidence against him fitted too neatly together, while the manner of the murder was totally inconsistent with his personality. I made my palankeen bearers bring me back here by a roundabout way, so as to have a little time to think. I reasoned that since the evidence could only have been rigged by an insider, it had to be Ho — the well-known motive of the deceived husband who wants to take ven­geance on his adulterous wife and her lover, both at the same time. But why did Ho wait so long? He knew everything about Mrs Ho sending messages to Fung; he must have discovered all about their secret meetings long ago. When I saw from the autopsy report that Mrs Ho had been pregnant, I took it that it was this news that had made her husband resolve to act. And I was right, though we now know that his emotional reaction was different from what I had assumed.' Fixing the shipowner with his sombre eyes, he continued, 'The false evidence could have been fabricated only by an insider, familiar with the incense-clock and with Mrs Ho's handwriting. That saved you from being accused of this murder, Mr Hwa!'

'Me, sir?' Hwa exclaimed aghast.

'Of course. I knew about Mrs Ho's visits to you, and about her refusing your disgusting proposal. Her husband was ignorant of this, but Fung knew. That gave you a motive for wanting both her and Fung out of the way. And you also had the opportunity, for you were in the garden towards two o'clock, while Mrs Ho was alone in the pavilion. You are innocent of murder, Mr Hwa, but guilty of attempted seduction of a married woman, as will be attested by Mr Fung, and of attempted bribery, as will be attested by Ho's steward, who overheard your conversation while you were visiting Ho at noon. Tomorrow I shall charge you with these two offences in the tribunal, and sentence you to a term in prison. That will be the end of your career here in Peng-lai, Mr Hwa.'

Hwa jumped up and was about to kneel down and beg for mercy, but Judge Dee went on quickly:

'I shan't have you up on those two charges, provided you agree to pay two fines. First, you shall this very night write a formal letter to Mrs Ho's father, duly signed and sealed, informing him that he can pay back the money you lent him any time that suits him, and that you renounce all interest on that loan. Second, you shall commission Mr Fung to paint a picture of every single boat in your shipyard, paying him one silver piece for each drawing.' He cut short Hwa's protestations of gratitude by raising his hand. 'This fine gets you only a reprieve, of course. As soon as I hear that you are again importuning decent women, you shall be indicted on the charges mentioned. Go now to the guardroom. You'll find Mr Fung there, and you'll place your order with him. Pay him then and there five silver pieces as an advance. Good­bye!'

When the frightened shipowner had hurriedly taken his leave, the judge got up from his chair and went to stand in front of the open window. He enjoyed the subtle fragrance of the magno­lia blossoms for a while, then he muttered to himself: 'Dis­approval of a man's moral standards is no reason for one to allow him to die in misery!’

He turned round abruptly and left for the chancery.