The Chinese Maze Murders (10 page)

Liu answered:

“Your Honour, it is true that my master appropriated unlawfully people’s land and houses and he often had persons severely beaten up. But to the best of my knowledge Chien never did wilfully kill anyone.”

“Liar!” Judge Dee shouted. “What about Magistrate Pan who was dastardly murdered here?”

“That murder,” Liu replied, “baffled my master as much as myself!”

The judge shot him an incredulous stare.

“Of course we knew,” Liu continued hurriedly “that His Excellency Pan was evolving plans to oust my master from his position. Since Judge Pan had no one with him but one assistant, my master did not act for a few days. He wished to wait and see what course of action Judge Pan would take. Then one morning two of our men came running to our mansion. They reported that Judge Pan’s body had been found on the river bank.

“My master was greatly vexed because he knew that people would say that he was responsible for this murder.
He hurriedly drew up a false report to the prefect stating that Judge Pan and six militia had ventured over the river to apprehend a rebel Uigur chieftain, and that the judge was slain in the ensuing fight. Six of Chien’s men signed as witnesses, and …”

Judge Dee hit his gavel on the bench.

“I have never,” he exclaimed angrily, “heard such a string of outrageous lies! Give that dogshead twenty-five lashes with the whip!”

Liu started to protest but the headman promptly hit him in his face. The constables tore Liu’s robe from his back, threw him on the floor, and the whip swished through the air.

The thin thong cut deeply in the flesh. Liu screamed desperately that he was telling the truth.

After the fifteenth blow the judge raised his hand. He knew that there was no reason for Liu to shield his fallen master and that Liu would realize that the testimony of the other prisoners would soon expose him if he tried to lie. Judge Dee wished to confuse him so that he would tell all he knew, reflecting that fifteen lashes with the whip was probably but a fraction of the punishment that this scoundrel deserved.

The headman gave Liu a cup of bitter tea. Then Judge Dee continued the interrogation.

“If what you say is true, why then did Chien Mow not try to discover the real murderer?”

“That,” Liu replied, “was unnecessary since my master knew who had committed that foul deed.”

Judge Dee raised his eyebrows.

“Your tale,” he remarked dryly, “becomes increasingly absurd. If your master knew the murderer’s identity, why did he not arrest him and forward him to the prefect? That would have gained Chien the confidence of the authorities.”

Liu shook his head dejectedly.

“That question, Your Honour, can only be answered by Chien himself. Although my master consulted us in minor matters he never told us one word about things of real importance. I know that in all major issues my master let himself be directed by a man whose identity we have never been able to guess.”

“I thought,” Judge Dee observed, “that Chien was perfectly capable to conduct his affairs himself. Why should he need to employ some mysterious adviser?”

“My master,” Liu replied, “is a clever and brave man, expert in all martial arts. But after all, he was born and brought up in this small border town. What do we of Lan-fang know about the handling of a prefect and how to deal with the central authorities? It was always after a visit of the stranger that my master made one of the many clever moves that prevented the prefect from intervening in affairs here.”

Judge Dee leaned forward in his chair. He asked curtly:

“Who was that secret adviser?”

“For the last four years,” Liu said, “my master used to receive regularly secret visits from that man. Late at night my master would send me to the side gate of our mansion and inform the guards that he expected a guest who was to be conveyed immediately to his library. This visitor always came on foot clad in a monk’s cloak with a black scarf wrapped round his head. None of us ever saw his face. My master used to be closeted with him for hours on end. Then he would depart as silently as he had come. My master never gave us any explanation of these visits. But they were always the prelude to some major undertaking.

“I am convinced that this man had Judge Pan murdered without my master’s previous knowledge. He came that same night. He must have had a violent quarrel with my
master; outside in the corridor we heard them shout at each other although we could not distinguish any words. After that interview my master was in a bad temper for several days.”

The judge said impatiently:

“I have heard enough of this mysterious tale. What about Chien’s kidnapping the son and the eldest daughter of the blacksmith Fang?”

“It is about affairs such as these,” Liu said, “that I and my colleagues can give Your Honour full particulars. Fang’s son was indeed taken by Chien’s men. The mansion was short of coolies and Chien sent out his henchmen to collect a few strong young men in the street. They brought in four. Three were later returned when their parents paid ransom. The blacksmith made trouble with the guards so Chien decided to keep his son to teach the blacksmith a lesson.

“As to the girl, I know that my master happened to see her when he passed her father’s shop in his palanquin. He took a fancy to her and made an offer to buy her. When the blacksmith refused my master soon forgot all about it. Then the blacksmith came to our mansion and accused us of having kidnapped her. My master was angry and sent his men to burn the blacksmith’s house.”

Judge Dee leaned back in his chair and slowly stroked his long beard. He reflected that Liu was evidently speaking the truth. His master had had nothing to do with the disappearance of Fang’s eldest daughter. Quick measures should be taken to arrest Chien’s secret adviser. If at least it was not too late for that already.

Then he ordered:

“Tell me what happened after my arrival here two days ago!”

“One week ago,” Liu replied, “Magistrate Kwang reported
to my master Your Honour’s scheduled arrival. He asked leave to depart early in the morning since he thought it awkward to meet Your Honour. My master agreed. He ordered that no one should take the slightest notice of Your Honour’s arrival in order
^‘
to show the new magistrate his place’, as he put it.

“My master then waited for the old jail warden to report. He failed to show up on the first day. He came the next evening and told my master that Your Honour was determined to attack him. He added that there were only three or four men in the tribunal but he described them as exceedingly fierce and rough men.”

Here Tao Gan smiled proudly. It was not often that he heard such a nattering description of himself.

“My master,” Liu continued, “ordered twenty of his men to enter the tribunal that very night, capture the magistrate and give all others a thorough beating. When Ling and five men came back with the alarming news that a regiment of the regular army had quietly occupied the city, my master was asleep and nobody dared to disturb him. Early yesterday morning I myself brought Ling to my master’s bedroom. He ordered a small black flag to be hoisted immediately over the main gate and then rushed to the main hall. When we were consulting about what to do, Your Honour came with the officers and arrested us.”

“What was the meaning of that black flag?” the judge inquired.

“We understand that that was the summons for the mysterious visitor. Every time the flag was hoisted, he used to come that same night.”

Judge Dee gave a sign to the headman. Liu Wan-fang was led away.

Then the judge filled out another slip for the warden of the jail and handed it to the headman.

After a while Chien Mow was brought in and led before the dais.

A murmur rose from the crowd as they saw the man who had ruled them with an iron hand for the past eight years.

Chien certainly was an imposing figure. He was well over six feet tall. His broad shoulders and his thick neck showed his great strength.

He made no move to kneel. First Chien looked haughtily at the judge, then turned round and surveyed with a sneer the gaping crowd.

“Kneel before your magistrate, you insolent dog!” the headman barked.

Chien Mow grew purple with rage. Thick veins stood out like whipcords on his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak. Then suddenly a stream of blood gushed from his broken nose. He tottered on his feet for a moment, then collapsed on the floor in a heap.

On a sign of the judge the headman stooped down and wiped the blood of Chien’s face. He was unconscious.

The headman sent a constable for a bucket of cold water. They loosened Chien’s robe and bathed his forehead and breast. But all was in vain. Chien did not regain consciousness.

Judge Dee was greatly annoyed. He ordered the headman to recall Liu Wan-fang.

As soon as he was kneeling before the bench the judge asked:

“Was your master suffering from any disease?”

Liu looked in consternation at the prone figure of Chien. The constables were still trying to revive him.

Liu shook his head.

“Although my master has an extraordinarily strong body,” he said, “he suffers from a chronic disease of the brain. He has been consulting doctors for years but no
medicine was of any avail. When he flew in a rage he would often collapse like this and remain unconscious for several hours. The doctors said that the only means to cure him was to open his skull and let out the poisonous air inside. But no doctor in Lan-fang possessed that particular skill.”

Liu Wan-fang was led away. Four constables carried the limp form of Chien Mow back to the jail.

“Let the warden report to me as soon as this man recovers!” Judge Dee ordered the headman.

The judge reflected that this collapse of Chien Mow was extremely unfortunate. It was of urgent importance to learn from Chien the identity of his mysterious visitor. Every hour delay gave that shadowy figure in the background a better chance to make good his escape. The judge regretted deeply that he had failed to question Chien directly after his arrest. But who could have foreseen that he had this unknown accomplice?

With a sigh Judge Dee straightened himself in his chair. He hit his gavel on the bench. In a clear voice he spoke:

“During eight years the criminal Chien Mow has been usurping the privilege of our Imperial Government. From now on law and order are re-established in Lan-fang. The good will be protected, the wicked relentlessly persecuted and punished according to the laws of the land.

“The criminal Chien Mow has been guilty of sedition and shall receive his just punishment. In addition to the crime of sedition he has committed a number of other criminal acts. Everyone who has a complaint against Chien Mow shall file this with the tribunal. Every case shall be investigated and compensation given wherever possible. It is my duty to warn you that the settling of all those cases will take time. You can rest assured, however, that in due time your wrongs will be righted and justice done.”

The crowd of spectators burst out in loud cheers. It took the
constables some time before order was restored in the court hall.

In a corner three Buddhist monks had not taken part in the general excitement. They stood huddled together in a whispered consultation.

Now they pressed forward through the crowd, shouting at the top of their voices that they were suffering under a terrible wrong.

As they approached the dais Judge Dee noticed that none of the three looked very prepossessing. They had coarse, sensuous faces and shifty eyes.

When they were kneeling in front of the dais Judge Dee ordered:

“Let the eldest of you state his name and his complaint!”

“Your Honour,” the monk in the middle spoke, “this ignorant monk is called Pillar of the Doctrine. I live with my two colleagues here in a small temple in the southern quarter of this town. We pass our days in devout prayer and self-examination.

“Our poor temple has but one valuable possession, to wit a golden statue of our Gracious Lady Kwan Yin, Amen! Two months ago that villain Chien Mow came to our temple and took the holy statue away. In the Nether World he will be boiled in oil for this awful sacrilege. In the mean time, however, we humbly pray Your Honour to have the holy treasure returned to us or, should that scoundrel have had it melted, to grant us compensation in gold or silver!”

Having thus spoken the monk knocked his head three times on the floor.

Judge Dee slowly caressed his side whiskers. After a while he asked in a conversational tone:

“Since this statue is the only treasure your temple possesses, I suppose that you looked after it with due care and devotion?”

“Indeed, Your Honour,” the monk answered hurriedly, “every morning I personally dusted it with a silk whisk, reciting prayers all the while!”

“I trust,” the judge continued, “that your two colleagues were equally diligent in serving the goddess?”

“This insignificant person,” the monk on right said, “has for several years every morning and night burned incense in front of our Gracious Lady, and reverently contemplated her merciful features, Amen!”