The Chinese Bell Murders

Seventh Chapter:

That afternoon after he had left Judge Dee's private office Ma Joong had gone to his own quarters and altered his appearance by means of a few simple changes.

He took off his cap, shook his hair loose, and bound it up again with a dirty rag. He put on baggy trousers, strapping their ends round his ankles with straw rope. Then he threw a short, patched jacket over his shoulders and finally changed his felt shoes for straw sandals.

In this disreputable attire he slipped out of the tribunal by the side door and mingled with the crowd in the street. He noticed with satisfaction that after one look at him people hastily made way to let him pass. Street vendors instinctively clutched their wares firmly under their arms when they saw him approaching. Ma Joong scowled fiercely and for some time rather amused himself.

It did not take him long to discover, however, that his task was not as easy as he had thought. He had an execrable meal in a street stall frequented by vagabonds, drank dregs of wine in a den that smelled after the refuse it was built on, and heard innumerable tales of woe and countless requests for the loan of a few coppers. But all those people were but the comparatively innocent riff-raff that roams in the back streets of every town-small pilferers and pick-pockets. He felt that he had not yet come into touch with any of the local low-class gangsters, who were well organised among themselves, and knew exactly what was going on in the underworld.

It was only towards nightfall that Ma Joong obtained a faint clue. He was forcing another dram of terrible liquid down his throat in a street stall when he overheard part of the conversation of two beggars who were having their meal there. One asked about a good place to steal clothes. The other replied: 'The people at the Red Temple will know!'

Ma Joong knew that low-class criminals often gather round some dilapidated temple. However, since most temples have red lacquered pillars and gates, he was at a loss how to locate this particular one in a city where he had arrived only a few days before. He resolved to take a long chance. Walking to the market-place near the north gate of the city, he gripped a small ragamuffin by his neck and told him gruffly to take him to 'the Red Temple.' Without asking a single question, the ragged urchin took him through a maze of narrow, winding alleys to a dark square. There the boy wrenched himself loose and ran off as fast as he could.

Ma Joong saw the large red gate of a Taoist temple directly ahead, looming against the evening sky. On the right and left rose the forbidding walls of old mansions, all along their base a row of wooden shacks, their walls sagging at crazy angles. When the temple prospered, these had been the stalls of vendors catering to the crowd of the devout, but now they had been appropriated by the outlaws of the town.

The entire yard was strewn with filth and refuse. Its odour mingled with the nauseating stench of the cheap oil in which a ragged old man was frying cakes over an improvised charcoal fire. A smoking torch had been stuck in a crack in the wall and by its uncertain light Ma Joong discovered a group of men squatting in a circle, absorbed in a gambling game.

Ma Joong sauntered over to this group. A fat fellow with a naked torso and an enormous paunch was sitting on an overturned wine jar with his back against the wall. His long hair and his dishevelled beard were stiff with grease and dirt. He was following the game with heavy-lidded eyes, scratching

MA JOONG'S HRST MEETING WITH SHENG PA

his belly with his left hand. His right arm, thick as a mast, rested on a knobbed stick. Three lean fellows were crouching round the dice board on the ground, while others squatted in the shadow farther away.

Ma Joong stood there for some time, following the rolling dice. No one seemed to pay the slightest attention to him. He was just debating with himself how he could strike up a conversation, when the huge fellow on the wine jar suddenly said, without looking up:

'I could use your jacket, brother!'

At once Ma Joong found himself the centre of attention. One gambler gathered up the dice, and rose from his crouching position. He was not as tall as Ma Joong, but his naked arms showed a certain wiry strength and the hilt of a dagger protruded from his girdle. Grinning he sidled up to Ma Joong's right side, fingering his dagger. The fat man left his wine jar, hitched up his trousers, spat with relish, and then, taking a firm hold on his knobstick, planted himself in front of Ma Joong.

With a leer he said:

'Welcome to the Temple of Transcendental Wisdom, brother! Am I far wrong when I take it that your devout spirit moved you to visit this holy place in order to present some votive gift? Let me assure you, brother, that that jacket of yours will be gratefully accepted!'

While speaking he prepared to strike.

In one glance Ma Joong took in the situation. The immediate danger was the ugly club in the fat man's right hand and the drawn dagger of the fellow on his right.

Just as the fat man was finishing his speech, Ma Joong's left arm shot out. Gripping the fat man's right shoulder, he pressed his thumb in the correct place temporarily laming the arm that held the club. The fat man swiftly closed his left hand round Ma Joong's left wrist, planning to pull him forward and hit Ma Joong in the groin with his knee. Practically at the same time, however, Ma Joong had raised his right arm with crooked elbow. He swung it back with all his might, crashing his elbow in the face of the man with the dagger, who fell down with a hoarse cry. Then, in one continuous motion, Ma Joong's right arm travelled forwards again, and hit the fat man a powerful blow on his unprotected diaphragm. The fat man let go his grip on Ma Joong's left wrist and doubled up on the ground gasping.

About to turn round to see whether the man with the dagger needed further attention, Ma Joong felt a crushing weight fall on his back. A muscular forearm closed round his throat from behind in a strangler's vice.

Ma Joong bent his powerful neck, pressing his chin in the other's forearm, at the same time groping behind Ms back. His left hand only tore a piece from his assailant's dress, but his right closed round a leg. He pulled it round with all his force, at the same time lurching forward to the right. Both men crashed to the ground, but Ma Joong was on top. His hip with his entire body weight behind it nearly broke his opponent's pelvis. The vice loosened. Ma Joong jumped up, just in time to dodge a dagger thrust from the lean fellow, who had scrambled up during these proceedings.

While he dodged, Ma Joong caught the wrist of the hand that wielded the dagger. Twisting the other's arm, he drew it over his shoulder. Then Ma Joong quickly ducked, and threw his opponent in a wide curve through the air. He crashed against the wall, and fell down on the empty wine jar, breaking it to pieces. He lay quite still.

Ma Joong picked up the dagger and threw it over the wall. Turning round he said to the shadowy figures in the background:

'I may seem a bit rough, brothers, but I have no patience with people who use daggers!'

He was answered by some non-committal grunts.

The fat man was still lying on the ground vomiting freely, groaning and cursing in between.

Ma Joong pulled him up by his beard, and threw him so that his back hit against the wall. The fat man landed there with a thud and sank into a squatting position, his eyes goggling at Ma Joong. He was still gasping for breath.

After quite some time, the fat man recovered slightly, and croaked in a hoarse voice:

'Now that, so to speak, the amenities have been complied with, would the honourable brother instruct us as to his name and profession?'

'My name,' Ma Joong replied casually, 'is Joong Bao and I am an honest street vendor, peddling my wares along the highways. Early this morning, when the sun was just rising, I met with a rich merchant. He took such a fancy to my wares that he bought the whole lot, paying me thirty silver pieces. Therefore I hurried here, to burn incense to the deities as a mark of my gratitude.'

The crowd guffawed and the prospective strangler asked whether Ma Joong had eaten his evening meal. When Ma Joong said no, the fat man shouted over to the oil cake vendor, and soon they were all gathered round the charcoal fire, eating oily cakes heavily seasoned with garlic.

It turned out that the fat man was called Sheng Pa. He proudly introduced himself as the chosen head of all the vagrant ruffians of the city and concurrently a counsellor of the Beggars' Guild. He and his men had settled down in the temple yard about two years ago. It used to be quite a prosperous place, but something untoward seemed to have happened there. The monks had left and the doors of the temple had been sealed up by the authorities. Sheng Pa said that it was a nice and quiet corner, yet not too far from the centre of the town.

Ma Joong confided to Sheng Pa that he found himself in a somewhat awkward position. He had hidden the thirty silver pieces in a safe place but he was anxious to leave town as quickly as possible, since the merchant whom he had robbed might have reported to the tribunal. He did not relish the idea of walking through the street with a heavy bundle of silver in his sleeve. He would like to exchange it for some small trinket, that he could easily hide about his person. He did not mind losing on that deal.

Sheng Pa nodded gravely and said:

'That, brother, is a wise precaution. But silver is a mighty rare commodity. We usually deal exclusively in copper cash. Now, if one wishes to exchange silver for something of smaller bulk but of equal value, why, then there is nothing left but gold! And to tell you the truth, brother, in our crowd that auspicious yellow material appears but once in a life-time, if ever!'

Ma Joong agreed that gold was a rare treasure, but he added that it might just happen that a beggar would find a small golden trinket on the road, dropped down from the palankeen of some distinguished lady. 'News of such a lucky find,' he added, 'travels fast, and you as a counsellor of the Beggars' Guild would soon hear of it!'

Sheng Pa slowly scratched his belly and agreed that it was not impossible that some such thing might happen.

Ma Joong detected a marked lack of enthusiasm.

He fumbled in his sleeve and extracted a piece of silver. He weighed it on the palm of his hand and let the light of the torch play on it.

'When I hid my thirty silver pieces,' he said, 'I took one along for good luck. I wonder whether you would accept it as an advance payment on the commission due to you for acting as an intermediary for the proposed deal.'

Sheng Pa snatched the coin from Ma Joong's hand with amazing agility. With a broad smile he said:

'Brother, I shall see what I can do for you. Come back tomorrow night!'

Ma Joong thanked him, and took leave of his new friends with a few pleasant words.