The Chinese Bell Murders

Twelfth Chapter:

When night had fallen, Ma Joong once more donned his disguise. Sergeant Hoong had authorised the comptroller to issue him thirty silver pieces from the coffers of the tribunal. Having wrapped these in a piece of cloth, Ma Joong put the package in his sleeve. Then he set out again for the Temple of Transcendental Wisdom.

He found Sheng Pa in his usual place, sitting with his back against the wall, scratching his naked torso. He seemed completely absorbed in the gambling.

But when he saw Ma Joong he greeted him cordially and bade him sit down by his side. When Ma Joong had squatted he spoke:

'I thought, brother, that by now you would have invested the copper cash you won from me the other night in buying yourself a nice jacket. What will you do when winter comes and you find yourself unprotected?' Sheng Pa gave him a reproachful look. 'Brother,' he said, 'your language is offensive to me. Did I not tell you that I am a counsellor of the Beggars' Guild? Far be it from me ever to obtain a piece of clothing through a mercenary procedure so odious to me as buying. However, let us get to the business on hand.'

Bringing his head close to Ma Joong's ear, he continued in a hoarse whisper:

'Everything has been arranged! Tonight you will be able to leave the city. The fellow who wants to sell a golden hairpin for thirty silver pieces is a vagrant Taoist mendicant monk.

He will be waiting for you tonight in Wang Loo's tea house, behind the Drum Tower. You will easily recognise him, he said he will be sitting all by himself at a table in a corner. There will be two empty cups under the spout of the teapot in front of him. You are supposed to identify yourself by commenting on those tea cups. The rest is up to you.'

Ma Joong thanked him profusely and promised that when he revisited Poo-yang, he would come to pay his respects without fail. Then he took a hurried leave.

He strode briskly to the Temple of the War God. He saw the Drum Tower silhouetted against the evening sky. A street urchin guided him to a small but busy shopping centre directly behind the tower. He glanced down the bustling street and found Wang Loo's signboard without difficulty.

He pulled aside the dirty door curtain. A dozen or so people were crowded around rickety tea tables. Most of them were clad in rags and a nauseating smell enveloped the place. He spotted a monk sitting alone at a table in the corner farthest from the door.

As he approached him Ma Joong was assailed by doubt. The waiting man was indeed clad in a ragged Taoist cowl. His head was covered by a greasy, black Taoist cap, and a wooden hand-gong hung from his girdle. But far from being tall and muscular, this man was short and fat. Even though he looked sufficiently disreputable with his dirty, sagging face, he definitely was not the type of violent rogue Judge Dee had described. Yet there could hardly be a mistake about this being his man.

Ma Joong sidled up to the table and said casually:

'Brother, since there are two empty tea cups I wonder whether I could sit down with you and moisten my parched throat!'

'Ha,' grunted the fat man, 'here you are, my disciple! Sit down and have a cup of tea. Have you brought the holy book with you?'

Before sitting down Ma Joong stretched out his left arm and let the other feel the package in his sleeve. The stranger's nimble fingers quickly identified the shape of silver pieces. He nodded and poured Ma Joong a cup of tea.

After they had taken a few sips, the fat man said:

'Now I shall show you the passage where the doctrine of the Supreme Void is most lucidly explained.'

As he spoke he produced a dirty volume from his bosom. Ma Joong took the thick, dog-eared book and noted the title was Secret Tradition of the Jade Emperor, a famous Taoist classic.

Ma Joong leafed through the book but failed to see anything out of the ordinary.

'I want you to read,' the monk said with a sly smile, 'the tenth chapter.'

Ma Joong found the place and raised the book nearer to his eyes as if to see better. A long golden hairpin had been inserted in the heart of the book, alongside the spine. The head of the pin consisted of the figure of a flying swallow exactly like the sketch that the judge had shown him. Ma Joong noticed the superb workmanship of the pin.

He hastily closed the book and put it in his sleeve.

'This book,' he said, 'will doubtless prove most illuminating! Let me now return the treatise you so kindly lent me the other day.'

As he spoke Ma Joong produced the package of money and handed it to the fat man, who hurriedly put it in the bosom of his cloak.

'I must leave now,' Ma Joong said, 'but tomorrow night we shall meet here again to continue our discussion.'

The fat man mumbled some polite words and Ma Joong rose and left the tea house.

Looking up and down the street Ma Joong saw that a curious crowd had gathered round an itinerant fortune-teller. He joined them but took a position that allowed him to keep an eye on the door of Wang Loo's tea house. After a short while the little fat monk emerged from the door and walked briskly down the narrow street. Ma Joong followed him at a distance, avoiding the circles of light cast by the oil lamps of the street vendors.

His quarry strode along as rapidly as he could with his short legs, heading in the direction of the northern gate. Suddenly he turned into a narrow side alley. Ma Joong looked around the corner. No one else was about. The little man had halted in front of a-small house and was about to knock on the door. Ma Joong ran noiselessly up behind him.

Clapping his hand on the fat man's shoulder, he jerked him round and gripped him by the throat, growling:

'One sound and you are done for!'

Then he dragged him farther into the alley until he found a dark corner, where he pinned the monk against the wall.

The fat man trembled all over and whined:

'I shall give you back the silver! Please don't kill me!'

Ma Joong took the package from him and put it back in his sleeve. Then he shook the stranger roughly.

'Tell me where you got that hairpin!' he demanded.

The other began in a faltering voice:

'I found it in the gutter. Some lady must have____________________'

Ma Joong gripped his throat again and cracked his head against the wall. It struck the stone with a dull thud. He hissed:

'Tell the truth, you dogshead, and save your wretched life!'

'Let me talk,' the other implored as he gasped for air.

Ma Joong released his throat and stood threateningly over him.

'I am,' the fat monk whined, 'one of a small gang of six vagabonds, masquerading as Taoist mendicant monks. We live in a deserted guard house in the East City at the foot of the wall. Our leader is a rough fellow called Hwang San.

'Last week, when we were taking our afternoon nap, I happened to open my eyes and saw Hwang San take a pair of golden hairpins from the seam of his robe to examine them. I closed my eyes again and pretended to be asleep. For some time I had been planning to leave the gang, they are much too violent for my taste. It seemed to me that this was the opportunity for obtaining the needed funds. So two days ago when Hwang San came home dead drunk, I waited till he was snoring. Then I felt the seam of his robe until I found one hairpin. He stirred and I did not dare to look for the other one but fled instead.'

Ma Joong was inwardly exceedingly pleased with this information. However, he did not relax his furious scowl. 'Lead me to that man!' he barked.

The fat man started to tremble again all over and whimpered:

'Please don't deliver me to that man! He will beat me to death!'

'The only man you need be afraid of is me!' Ma Joong said gruffly. 'At the first sign of treachery I shall drag you to a quiet comer and cut your filthy throat. Get going!'

The fat man led him back to the main street. After a short walk they reached a maze of small alleys and finally arrived in a dark and deserted area along the city wall. Ma Joong could vaguely distinguish a tumbledown hut which was built against the wall.

'Here it is,' the fat man blubbered and turned to run away. But Ma Joong gripped him by the collar of his robe and dragged him along until they stood in front of the hut. Ma Joong kicked against the door and shouted:

'Hwang San, I have brought a golden hairpin for you!' Sounds of stumbling were heard inside, a light went on and presently a huge, bony fellow emerged. He was as tall as Ma Joong but lacked the latter's weight.

Lifting up the oil lamp, he surveyed his visitors with small, mean eyes. Then he cursed roundly and growled at Ma Joong:

'So that wretched rat stole my hairpin. Now what do you have to do with that?'

'I want to buy the pair of them. When this bastard produced only one, I knew he was holding out on me. I gently persuaded him to tell me where I could find the other one.'

The other guffawed. He had uneven, yellow teeth.

"We shall do business, brother!' he said. 'But first let me kick in the ribs of this fat sneak thief-just to show him how to behave towards his betters!'

He put down the oil lamp as a preliminary to action. The fat man suddenly kicked the lamp over with surprising deftness. Ma Joong let go of his collar and the terrified thug ran away as fast as an arrow from the bow.

Hwang San swore and wanted to run after him. Ma Joong caught him by the arm saying quickly:

'Let the wretch go! You can settle with him later. I have urgent business with you.'

'Well,' Hwang San growled, 'if you have cash with you we might make a deal. I have had bad luck all my life and somehow I have a feeling that those accursed hairpins will land me in trouble if I don't sell them quickly. You have seen one of them; the other is exactly the same. What will you give?'

Ma Joong looked around warily. The moon had come out and he noticed that the place seemed completely deserted.

'Where are the other fellows?' he enquired. 'I don't like to do business in front of witnesses!'

'Don't worry,' Hwang San reassured him, 'they are all away making the rounds in the shopping centres.'

'In that case,' Ma Joong said coldly, 'you can keep your hairpin, you wretched murderer!'

MA JOONG'S FIGHT UNDER THE CITY WALL

Hwang San swiftly sprang back.

'Who are you, you bastard?' he shouted angrily.

'I am the lieutenant of His Excellency Judge Dee,' Ma Joong answered, 'and I am going to take you to the tribunal as the murderer of Pure Jade. Now will you come along or shall I have to beat you to a pulp first?'

'I have never heard of the wench,' Hwang San barked, 'but I know your dirty kind of constable and the corrupt judges for whom you act as running dog! Once you get me in the tribunal you will pin some unsolved crime on me and then torture me till I confess. I'll take my chance with you!'

As he spoke the last words he aimed a vicious blow at Ma Joong's middle.

Ma Joong parried and swung at Hwang San's head. The latter, however, caught the blow in the approved way and followed up with a quick thrust at Ma Joong's heart.

Blow was exchanged for blow wihout * (* This is a spelling error in the original text of the book) either of them being able to score a real hit.

Ma Joong realised that he had found his equal in this art. Hwang San was lean but his bones were unusually thick so that their body weight would be about the same. As to Hwang San's boxing, this was of such superior quality that Ma Joong placed him in the eighth, or next-highest grade. Ma Joong himself was of the ninth grade, but this advantage was neutralised by the fact that Hwang San was thoroughly familiar with the ground and repeatedly forced Ma Joong to make a stand on an uneven or slippery patch.

After a strenuous fight, Ma Joong lashed out and succeeded in crushing Hwang San's left eye with an elbow blow. Hwang San countered with a kick on Ma Joong's thigh, which greatly impeded his footwork.

Then suddenly Hwang San aimed a kick at Ma Joong's groin. Ma Joong leaped back and caught his opponent's foot in his right hand. He was going to press Hwang San's knee down with his left hand, keeping his leg stretched to prevent him from drawing near, and kick his opponent's other leg out from under him. But he slipped and missed. Hwang San immediately bent his knee and dealt Ma Joong a fearful blow on the side of the neck.

This blow is counted among the nine fatal strokes of boxing. If Ma Joong had not happened to have his head turned so that his jaw caught half of the blow, he would have been finished then and there. As it was, he let go of Hwang San's foot and staggered backwards. The effects of the disrupted blood circulation blurred his eyes. At that moment he was completely at the mercy of his opponent.

A great boxer of antiquity, however, once stated: 'A fight between two people of equal strength, weight and technique, is decided by the spirit.' Although Hwang San had mastered all the physical aspects of the art, he had a low, brutish mind. Since Ma Joong was defenceless, Hwang San could have chosen any one of the nine, clean death blows, but his base instinct prompted him to aim a nasty kick at Ma Joong's groin.

To repeat the same blow twice is one of the basic mistakes in boxing. Ma Joong's blood circulation was so badly disturbed that he was unable to execute any complicated move; he did the only thing he could in the circumstances: he clasped Hwang San's lower leg in both arms and twisted it round with all his strength. Hwang San emitted a hoarse cry as his knee joint was dislocated. At the same time Ma Joong drove his body forward, fell down together with Hwang San, and sank on his middle with his knees. Then Ma Joong felt his strength give out. He rolled over and over till he was well out of the reach of Hwang San's flailing arms. Lying on his back, Ma Joong concentrated on those secret breathing exercises that restore the normal circulation of the blood.

When he felt that his head was clear and his nervous system restored to normal, Ma Joong scrambled up and went over to Hwang San. His opponent was making frantic attempts to get up. Ma Joong placed an accurate kick on Hwang's jaw, his head crashed backwards and struck the ground. Then from around his middle Ma Joong unwound the long, thin chain used for binding criminals and secured Hwang San's hands behind his back. Drawing them as high up to the shoulders as they would go, Ma Joong slipped one end of the chain in a running noose round Hwang San's neck. If he made the slightest attempt at freeing his hands the thin chain would cut into his throat.

Ma Joong squatted down by his side.

'You nearly got me, you rascal!' he said. 'Now spare His Excellency and me unnecessary trouble and confess your crime!'

'If my accursed bad luck had not again caught up with me,' Hwang San gasped, 'you would have been dead now, you dog of a constable! As to my confessing to any crime, leave that to your corrupt master.'

'Have it your own way!' Ma Joong said coldly.

He walked into the nearest alley and pounded on the door of a house till a sleepy man opened it. Ma Joong identified himself and ordered the man to fetch the warden of the quarter, with instructions to come immediately with four men and a couple of bamboo poles.

Then he went back to stand guard over his prisoner who let out a stream of the foulest curses.

When the warden and his men arrived they made a stretcher of the poles for carrying Hwang San. Ma Joong threw an old robe over him that he had found in the hut and they went back to the tribunal.

Hwang San was handed over to the warden of the jail. Ma Joong ordered a bone-setter called to put Hwang's knee right.

Sergeant Hoong and Tao Gan were sitting up waiting for Ma Joong in the chancery. They were very happy when they heard the news of the criminal's capture. The sergeant said with a broad grin: 'This indeed calls for a snack and a few rounds!' The three headed for the main street and entered an all-night restaurant.