The Phantom of the Temple
- Автор: ван Гулик Роберт Ханс
- Серия: Judge Dee #13
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Phantom of the Temple». Краткое содержание книги:
On a wooded hill in the Lan-fang district, a phantom stalks in a century-old Buddhist temple and three mysteries unfold-the vanishing of a wealthy merchant's daughter, the disapperance of twenty bars of gold, and the discovery of a decapitated corpse. In the Phantom of the Temple, the clever Judge Dee pieces together these strange occurrences to reveal one complex and gruesome plot.
'You are wasting your time,' she interrupted. 'I only know what is happening here in this quarter. And across the border. I know nothing about what happens at the other end of the city. If, however, you want to know about the girl you were thinking of just now, I might be able to help you.' Seeing his bewildered look, she went on quickly: 'Not the little strumpet called Tulbee, Mr Official. I mean the other one, named after a precious stone.'
'If you know ... who Jade is, and where ...' Ma Joong stammered.
'I don't. But I shall ask my husband.'
She rose and shook the cloak from her shoulders. Ma Joong got another shock. Her tall, perfect body was stark naked.
He gaped at her, paralysed by a deep-rooted, nameless terror. For the pale, completely hairless shape seemed so unreal, so far remote from ordinary life that its generous curves, far from rousing his desire, made him shrink with fear, the abject fear of the unknown. When, with a tremendous effort he succeeded in averting his eyes, he saw that she had not been sitting on a chair, but on a small pyramid of skulls.
'Yes,' she said, in her cold, impersonal voice, 'this is the beginning. Shorn of all your stupid day-dreams, of all your cherished illusions.' Pointing at the heap of skulls, she added: 'And this is the end, shorn of all empty promises and all fond hope.' She kicked the pile over with her bare foot. The skulls rolled rattling over the floor.
For a while she stood looking down at him with infinite scorn, her arms akimbo, her legs spread. Cold sweat broke out all over him as he sat cowering there. As if in a dream, he watched her as she turned round abruptly and undid a cord from an iron hook in the wall. A screen of painted cloth that had been fastened to the blackened rafters slowly descended. It divided the room into two compartments. She shook her hair and disappeared behind the screen.
The fire seemed to be dying out. He had not understood the full meaning of her words, but they filled him with a terrible feeling of utter loneliness. He stared fixedly at the strange symbols depicted on the screen, his mind frozen. Suddenly the sharp tinkling of the brass bell roused him from his mental stupor. Tala began to intone a monotonous chant in a strange language. First it rose, then it died out, to be revived again by the tinkling of the bell. It grew warmer in the room, and at the same time a nauseating smell of decay drowned the clean fragrance of the camphor wood. Gradually it became hot; sweat was streaming down his back, drenching his jacket. Suddenly the chant changed into a low moaning sound. The tinkling of the bell ceased. He balled his large fists in impotent rage, his nails cutting his calloused palms. His stomach was turning.
Just when he thought he was going to be violently sick, the air suddenly cleared. The clean smell of camphor superseded the foul stench and it grew less hot in the room. For some time all was quiet as the grave. Then her voice came from behind the screen, utterly weary:
'Raise the screen and fasten the cord.'
THE CONSORT OF A GOD
He rose stiffly and did as she had said, not daring to look at her. When he had tied the cord to the hook and turned round, he saw her lying stretched out on the plank bed, her head on her arm, her eyes closed. Her long hair hung down to the floor.
'Come here!’ she ordered without opening her eyes.
He sat down on the bamboo stool at the foot of the bed. He saw that her body was covered with a thin film of sweat. Her lower lip was bleeding.
'Your girl Jade was born twenty years ago, on the fourth day of the fifth month of the year of the Mouse. She died last year on the tenth day of the ninth month. The year of the Snake. Of a broken neck.'
'How ... who did ...?' Ma Joong began.
'That was all I was told. I was told also about myself. Unasked for. Go away!’
With an effort he mustered his courage.
'I must order you to give me more details. Otherwise I shall have to take you to the tribunal, to ...'
She languidly stretched out her hand, still without looking at him.
'Show me your warrant!’
As Ma Joong did not answer, she suddenly raised her drooping eyelids. He saw that her eyes were bloodshot, they looked broken, dead.
Ma Joong retched. He jumped up and made for the door. Half-blinded by the sun, he bumped into a lean shape. It was one of the Tartars. The three were standing in the street now, barring his way. The tallest gave him a push.
'Watch out, son of a dog! Did you have a good time with the witch?'
All his pent-up fear and frustration burst out. He felled the Tartar with a blow to his chin so ferocious that the man pitched over like a log of wood. The two others ran away as fast as they could: they had recognized in Ma Joong's blazing eyes the killer's look. He ran after them, in a blind rage. The people in the street further on quickly made way for the cursing giant. Then he stepped into a hole and fell down flat on his face. When he had slowly scrambled to his feet again, he saw that he was in Tulbee's street.
She was standing in front of her kitchen, stirring the cauldron with a long ladle. Looking over her shoulder, she was cursing in a strident voice her eldest boy, who was pulling the hair of his shrieking small brother.
Ma Joong's rage ebbed away. That homely, commonplace scene made a warm, comfortable feeling rise in his breast. He saw from the position of the sun that it was still early in the afternoon. First a bowl of hot soup, to settle his stomach. ... He quickly wiped the mud from his face and walked up to her with a broad smile.
VIII
All the lamps were burning brightly in the large dining-room of Judge Dee's residence, and a bevy of maids were hanging garlands of coloured lampions on the low branches of the trees in the front garden. The First Lady, in a long-sleeved robe of shimmering violet brocade embroidered with gold, was seeing off the last lady guest from her tea party. After she had made her final bow, she cast an anxious glance at the back gate of the chancery. The housemaster had told her that the judge had come back from the temple an hour before, but he had not yet made his appearance. Turning to the Third Lady, who looked very fragile in her rustling long robe of stiff white gauze, she said, 'I do hope our husband will come in time to receive the Abbess! Dinner will start in an hour!'
The conference in Judge Dee's private office was nearing its end. The judge was leaning back in his armchair, slowly combing his long black beard with outspread fingers. The light of the silver candlestick shone on his drawn face. Sergeant Hoong sat huddled on the bamboo chair in the corner, tired after the hot afternoon in the temple and the long search in the dusty chancery archives afterwards. His thin hands were in his lap, folding and unfolding mechanically his sheet of notes. Ma Joong, sitting opposite the judge, was looking glum. After the judge had told him about the search of the deserted temple, Ma Joong had reported his visit to the sorceress, and Judge Dee had made him repeat their conversation word for word. Although his prolonged session with Tulbee had rid him of the haunting fear that he could never love a woman again, the recounting of the harrowing interview with Tala had upset him more than he cared to admit.
At last Judge Dee spoke:
'As to the general remarks of that woman Tala, I prefer not to go further into those. They refer to a perfidious teaching that foully debases what any decent man holds most sacred. As to her astonishing references to the girl named Jade, her knowing that you are concerned with her is easily explained, Ma Joong. While waiting for the sorceress to finish with the old crone, you were concentrating your thoughts on Jade. And Tala, like most women of her strange profession, evidently possesses the faculty of reading other people's thoughts — up to a certain point, of course. Part of their success as soothsayers depends on that faculty. As to how she knew the dates of Jade's birth and alleged demise, I wouldn't even hazard a guess.'