The Phantom of the Temple

XVII

He stared at the apparition, spell-bound. Then it flashed through his mind that the other night the phan­tom had led him to the hidden path. Would she now ...? He raced down the path.

'Brother Shao, I ...' Spring Cloud called out behind him. Suddenly the ghostly apparition raised her arms high above her head. The moonlight shone through her long, silvery sleeves. Ma Joong halted abruptly; he didn't know what to think of the menacing gesture. The girl bumped into his back. At that very same moment the upper part of the wall above him crashed down, directly before his feet.

For one brief moment he stood there motionless, star­ing dumbfounded at the mass of broken masonry that blocked the path.

'What happened ...? What ...?' the girl gasped behind him.

'That was meant for us!' he hissed. 'Stay here!'

He quickly climbed on to the heap of bricks. From there he could grasp the rough edges of the gap higher up in the wall. He pulled himself up, climbed on the wall and jumped down into the back yard of the temple, just in time to see a black shape disappear through the back door of the main hall.

Ma Joong ran to the door, dropped on all fours, and quickly crept inside. He crouched with his back against the wall, just inside the door, on the right, ready to clasp the other's legs should he be waiting there. But nothing stirred in the darkness. He carefully explored the space within his reach but his groping hands met only empti­ness. At the far end of the hall he saw a faint light. That must be the latticework of the six-fold entrance door. Again he noticed that awful, nauseating stench of the day before. The only sound he heard was the flapping of a frightened bat. Yet the murderer had to be there, some­where in the dark hall. Here they would fight it out. He reflected with grim satisfaction that he had the advan­tage, even if the murderer should be armed. For Ma Joong had fought many a fight in pitch-dark places and he knew all the tricks. And, thanks to his previous visit and Spring Cloud's sketch, he had a clear picture of the situation.

With infinite care he crept along the wall, advancing inch by inch towards the left corner, his right shoulder brushing the stone surface, his muscles tense for quick action, his ears straining for a tell-tale sound.

Arrived in the corner, a piece of cloth suddenly grazed his groping left hand. He shot forward, stretching out his long arms to grab his opponent's legs. But there was nothing, and he bumped his head hard against the wall. Half-dazed, he heard the quick shuffle of feet, directly ahead. Then there was the clanking of iron on stone. That meant his opponent had a sword. He lay completely still for a while. Then he groped about, and understood what had happened. What he had taken for a piece of the other's robe proved to be nothing but a cluster of cob­webs, stiffened by dirt.

His head was reeling but he knew he had to get away from that corner as fast as possible. The side door leading to the monks' cells couldn't be far away. After he had crept along the wall for some time, his fingers met the rough surface of wooden boards. Now on to the niche where the ritual arms were kept. Yes, he felt two thick shafts. The two halberds were still there. But apart from those the niche was empty. Now he knew his opponent's weapon: it was the second Tartar axe. He reflected with a wry grin that he was lucky. For an axe is of slight use in a fight in the dark, whereas a halberd is a wonderful weapon. He knew how to handle it: more than ten feet long, the point would penetrate a leather cuirass, the razor-sharp blade beneath the point would split a skull, and the wicked hook opposite could be used for pulling a knight from his horse, or for bringing a fleeing foot-soldier to the ground. And he had two, one for fighting, the other for reconnoitering and for setting a trap! He righted himself and took the halberds noise­lessly from the niche, holding their shafts upright. While he stood there motionless, waiting for the painful throb­bing in his head to subside, he tried to orientate himself. He was standing now by the last pillar of the row to the left of the entrance. On his left hand was the empty space in front of the altar. He levelled the halberd in his right hand and explored the floor space with it. When all proved to be clear there, he turned and verified that no one was in the narrow space between the row of pillars and the wall. Holding the two halberds upright, he tip­toed to the centre of the hall, and stood there facing the entrance.

The rectangle of the six latticework panels stood out clearly. Of course the other man would avoid the central part of the hall, between the two rows of pillars, for there he would be seen against the light of the lattice doors. He must be hiding in the space behind the row of pillars to the right of the entrance, now on Ma Joong's left. A slow grin spread over his face.

He went step by step to the left, till he had arrived by the last pillar. He went to stand squarely in front of it, and set up the halberd in his left hand against it. Then he took a firm grip with both hands on the other. Presently he would kick the standing weapon over, so that it would clatter down in the space behind the pillars. His opponent would come out and be clearly outlined against the lattice doors. Then he would get him with the halberd he still held.

All at once he held his breath. He thought he had heard a faint noise, on the other side of the pillar he was facing. Suddenly a large dark shape shot forward, knocked the halberd in his hands aside and made for the lattice door. Ma Joong lunged the halberd forward but he was too late, the fleeing shape was just out of reach. With a curse he let the halberd drop and ran after him. The dark shape halted in front of the door. A heavy object whizzed past Ma Joong's head and clattered to the floor behind him. Then the man kicked a panel open. Ma Joong threw himself forward to tackle him. His feet got caught in a rope on the floor and he fell flat on his face. After he had scrambled up he rushed through the open door out into the front yard, and got just a glimpse of something moving by the triple gate. When he had ran out there, he faintly heard the sound of feet on the staircase, far below. His opponent had escaped.

Cursing volubly, he wiped the blood from his face. A large lump was forming on his forehead. He went inside and retrieved the halberd. With vicious jabs he broke all the six panels down. Now he saw that the rope his feet had got entangled in was in fact a rope-ladder, made of thin, tough silk cords. At one end it was provided with two large iron hooks. Further down, at the foot of the last pillar, lay the Tartar axe the other had thrown at him.

He left the hall by the back gate. Spring Cloud sat on her haunches in the gap, clasping the lantern in her hands. He climbed up, kissed her tear-stained face, and helped her down on the other side.

'The son of a dog escaped, Princess! Did you see the ghost?'

'A ghost? No, I saw nothing. Was I in a blue funk? Hey, you look terrible! Here, let me wipe your face!’

'Don't bother. I'll deliver you to the Hermitage, then have a last look around for that blasted ghost.'

He put his arm round her shoulders and walked back with her to the Hermitage.

'You'll see more of me, Princess, one of these days!’ he said. Pushing her inside, he cast a casual look at the quarters of the Abbess. The window was dark now.

He hitched up his trousers and went back to the clear­ing where he had seen Fang sitting on the tree trunk. He whistled shrilly on his fingers. The hooting of an owl was the only answer. With a worried frown he lit the lantern and began to search the undergrowth systematically, curs­ing savagely when the thorny branches tore at his trousers. He knew that Fang would never have gone far from his watchpost.

Struggling through a clump of wild roses, he came out in a clearing, in front of a group of high yew trees. As he started to cross it he stepped with his right foot into a hole and fell with his face on a round boulder.

'That's the third time tonight!' he muttered as he scrambled up. With a sigh he picked up the lantern and relit it with his tinder-box. Suddenly he gasped. What he had taken to be a moss-overgrown boulder was the mangled head of a man.

A sick feeling rising in his stomach, he let the light shine on the distorted face. Then he heaved a deep sigh of relief.

'Heaven be praised!’ It wasn't Fang. The face was com­pletely unknown to him.

He gave the hole a good look. It was newly-made, a small pile of wet earth was beside it. He gazed again at the grisly object at his feet.

'Holy Heaven, it must be Yang's head, buried here by the murderer! But why did he dig it up again?'

He raised the lantern and inspected the yew trees. A man was lying in the tall grass below, beside his head a crushed constable's helmet. With a smothered curse Ma Joong bent over the prone figure and felt his breast. Fang was still alive.

Ma Joong carefully turned the head of the unconscious man a little. There was a gaping wound at the back of his skull. He felt the area surrounding it, his fingertips deli­cately parting the matted hair.

'It was a nasty blow all right,' he muttered. 'But as far as I can see it didn't damage his skull. Those helmets are solidly made. There's an awful lot of blood, but that can't be helped in the case of a head wound.' He picked up the helmet. 'Yes, the foul bastard hit him with that Tartar axe. The helmet may have saved Fang's life, but there's no time to be lost. I must get the Abbess at once, and ransack her household pharmacy.'

He ran down the path to the Hermitage.

After he had rattled a brick on the gate for a con­siderable time, the peephole opened. Through the grating he saw the astonished face of Spring Cloud, and that of the Abbess behind her. He reached down and took his identification document from his boot. Holding it up in front of the peephole, he told the Abbess, 'I am Ma Joong, one of Judge Dee's lieutenants, Reverend Mother. I found in the wood a wounded man who needs immediate medi­cal attention.'

'Open up!’ the Abbess told the girl.

In the courtyard Ma Joong explained the situation to the Abbess.

She nodded gravely and said, 'Fortunately I have a well-equipped pharmacy here. Looking after the sick and wounded is part of our religious duties. The maid will take you to the kitchen. The bamboo screen there might well serve as a stretcher. She will help you to carry the wounded man here; she is a strong girl. I shall look after him. I shall now prepare a bed in the side-hall.'

As soon as they were in the kitchen, Spring Cloud turned on Ma Joong with blazing eyes.

'Liar!’ she hissed at him.

Ma Joong didn't know what to say. The War God had left him in the lurch! They took the bamboo screen down in silence. She looked at him sideways, and said, sud­denly, 'You are rather a nice liar, though.'

'Good!’ said Ma Joong with a broad grin. 'You are magnanimous! A real Princess!’

Judge Dee was in his private office, going over the dossier regarding the financial administration of the dis­trict with Sergeant Hoong.

'Good Heavens, what happened to you?' the judge exclaimed when he saw the big lump on Ma Joong's fore­head, and his torn and mud-covered clothes. 'Pour him a cup of hot tea, Sergeant!’

Ma Joong gratefully sipped the strong tea. Then he began his story. He concluded:

'The Abbess cleaned Fang's head wound expertly, sir. She's a remarkable woman, remained as cool as a cucum­ber all through. When we had put ointment on the wound and forced a drug down his throat, he regained consciousness. He said he had noticed that some digging had been done in the clearing recently. Just when he had discovered Yang's severed head, he was struck down from behind. The Abbess has given him a sedative, and when we left he was sleeping peacefully. The Abbess says that, if he doesn't develop a fever overnight, he'll pull through all right.' He emptied his seventh cup, and added, 'I haven't yet told the headman about the murder of the other constable, sir. How shall we break this bad news to the men?'

'Order the headman to assemble them in the guard­house, Ma Joong. Then tell them on my behalf that I give them my word that the murderer shall get his deserts. Add that it is in their own interest that they keep this murder strictly secret. Then order the headman to go to the temple with a stretcher and fetch the dead body, and Yang's head.'

Ma Joong nodded and went out. Judge Dee silently stroked his beard for a while. Then he said to Sergeant Hoong:

'We lost a good man, and another was severely wounded. We have obtained two important clues, but the cost was high, Sergeant.'

He put his elbows on the table and stared with un­seeing eyes at the financial documents before him, deep in thought. Suddenly he looked up and asked, 'Why is the murderer in such a terrible hurry all at once? For months on end he contented himself with patiently searching the temple. And now, in the brief space of two days, he first commits a double murder, then tries to kill Ma Joong twice, murders one constable and attacks another! Why this sudden urgency?'

The sergeant shook his head, a worried expression on his thin face.

'For some reason or other the man has become des­perate, sir. Attacking an Imperial officer is no small matter. Everybody knows that the authorities will never give up finding the perpetrator, and that he will be executed in the severest manner allowed by the law. That's why constables can go about their duties armed only with a club. If it's bruited about that someone had the audacity to attack a constable on duty, it might affect the safety of our entire personnel, sir.'

'Yes, I have thought of that aspect, Hoong. That's why I told Ma Joong to enjoin the constables' complete silence.'

The judge lapsed into sombre thought.

When Ma Joong came back, Judge Dee took hold of himself. Sitting up straight, he said briskly, 'The gold must be hidden in a high place, otherwise the murderer wouldn't have brought a rope ladder. Second, we know now that at least three parties are after the gold. Namely, the murderer who organized the theft, Yang and Seng-san who barged in, and the King of the Beggars who had been promised part of Seng-san's share. As I have just ex­plained to the sergeant, there is one point that is exercis­ing me considerably. I mean the sudden urgency on the part of the murderer. I wonder whether that could be explained by an entirely new personality having entered upon the scene, a man who has nothing to do with the theft of the gold. That idea, however, is based only on an intuitive feeling. Finally, the problem of the phantom. Until tonight I had dismissed the ghost as just a figment of the imagination of superstitious persons. Ma Joong himself wasn't certain he had actually seen her yesterday. But tonight he has seen her clearly, and he saw her taking an active part in the murderous attack on him. So from now on we shall have to take full account of that mysterious apparition. What is your opinion, Ma Joong?'

Ma Joong gloomily shook his head.

'No matter what or who that spook is, sir, she is in league with the murderer. The other day she didn't point out the hidden path to the well in order to help me, as I foolishly thought. She did it just to lure me to that far corner of the garden, where the murderer was waiting for me behind the gap in the outer wall. When they saw me going down into the well, they thought that killing me there would save them the trouble of disposing of my dead body. Tonight that damned spook was encouraging me to walk on, drawing all my attention to herself, so that I wouldn't notice that the murderer was working loose the upper portion of the crumbling wall. But she made a bad mistake when she suddenly raised her arms as a sign for the murderer that I was in exactly the right spot. The gesture frightened me. I halted, and that saved my life — with not a fraction of an inch to spare!’

Judge Dee nodded. He consulted his notes, then he asked, 'Couldn't you give me a better description of the phantom?'

'Well, sir, both times I got only a glimpse of her and both times it was from quite a distance, and in the un­certain moonlight. She wore a robe of thin gauze, I think, and she had a piece of the same material wound round her head, covering her face. She was tall, of that I am certain.'

'Are you quite sure it was a woman, Ma Joong?'

Ma Joong pulled at his small moustache. He said, hesi­tating, 'Everybody spoke about a white woman ... And that long robe ... but that doesn't count, of course, for a man can put on a long woman's robe too... . Well, there's the figure, of course. Broad in the hips and narrow in the shoulders. Did I see her bosom, now? Yes ... or ...?' He shook his head disconsolately. 'I am sorry, sir. I really don't know!'

'Don't worry, Ma Joong! The main thing is that we now know it is an ordinary human being of flesh and blood. Well, you must go to the Hermitage first thing tomorrow, Ma Joong, and see how Fang is getting along. We shall meet here again after breakfast. We must do something, and very soon too. The murderer is desperate, and he may strike again at any moment. Open the win­dow, Hoong! It's getting so stuffy that I fear we may be in for a rainstorm. And they can be very violent, this time of the year. I'll remain here for a while, trying to sort out my thoughts. Good night!'