Poets and Murder

The Prefect's energetic investigation — he was an admirer of Yoo-lan's poetry — brought to light two points in her favour. First, it transpired that the magistrate had tried to obtain Yoo-lan's favours the year before, and that she had refused him. The magistrate admitted this but denied that the fact had influenced his dealing with the case. He had received an anonymous letter stating that a corpse was buried under the cherry tree, and he had deemed it his duty to verify that allegation. The Prefect ruled that the magistrate had been pre­judiced, and temporarily suspended him from his duties. Second, the military police caught a robber who until a few weeks previously had been a member of the band that attacked the farmstead. He stated that their leader had talked about the poetess having a hoard of gold in the monastery, and added that it would be worth while having a look around there some time. This seemed to bear out Yoo-lan's theory about the murder. On the basis of these facts the Prefect passed the case on to the provincial tribunal, recommending acquittal of the accused.

The Governor, flooded with letters from high-placed per­sons all over the Empire in favour of the poetess, was about to give a verdict of not guilty, when a young water-carrier from the Lake District came forward. He had been absent for several weeks, accompanying an uncle on a journey to the family graves. He had been the maid's boy friend, and stated that she had often told him that her mistress importuned her, and beat her when she refused. The Governor's doubts were strengthened by the fact that the maid had been found to be a virgin. He reasoned that if robbers had murdered the maid, they would certainly have raped her first. He instructed the military police to search the entire province for the robbers who had attacked the farmstead, for their testimony was of course of vital importance. But all efforts to track the band down were in vain. Neither could the writer of the anony­mous letter be traced. The Governor thought he had better wash his hands of this ticklish case, and referred it to the Metropolitan Court.

Judge Dee closed the dossier, arose from the table and went out on to the gallery. A cool autumn breeze rustled in the bamboos of the rockery, promising a fine evening.

Yes, his colleague had been right. It certainly was an inter­esting case. Disturbing, rather. He pensively tugged at his moustache. Magistrate Lo had described it as a purely theore­tical puzzle. But his wily colleague had known very well, of course, that it would present him, the judge, with a personal challenge. And now his meeting with the poetess had linked him directly with her case, squarely confronting him with the question: guilty or not guilty?

The judge began to pace the gallery, his hands clasped behind his back. Secondary information was all he had on this disturbing, frustrating case. Suddenly the ugly, toad-like face of the sexton rose before his mind's eye. That strange monk had reminded him that for the poetess this was a question of life or death. He was dimly conscious of a feeling of uneasi­ness, an inexplicable sense of foreboding. Perhaps he would rid himself of his vague discomfiture, if he tackled the dossier again and went over all the verbatim witness accounts. It was only five o'clock, so he still had two hours or so before the dinner would begin. Somehow or other, however, he didn't feel like resuming his study of the legal documents. He thought he would postpone that task till he had had a longer talk with the poetess, at dinner. Then he would listen also to what the Academician and the Court Poet had to say to her, try to gauge their attitude to the problem of her guilt. Suddenly the gay dinner party promised by his colleague took on the macabre significance of a court of justice, deli­berating a death sentence. Now he had a distinct premonition of impending danger.

Trying to dispel these disquieting thoughts, he reviewed in his mind the murder of the student, Soong. That also was a frustrating case. He had taken part in the investigation of the scene of the crime, but now he could do nothing, had to depend entirely on what Lo's men would bring to light. There again he would have to work with second-hand information.

Suddenly the judge halted in his steps. His bushy eyebrows creased in a deep frown; he reflected for a while. He went inside, and took the booklet with Soong's musical score from the table. Apart from the student's historical notes, this was the only direct link with the dead man. Again he leafed through its closely written pages. Suddenly he smiled. It was a long shot, but it was worth trying! At any rate it would be better than sitting and moping here in his room, poring over statements by all kinds of persons he had never set eyes upon.