Poets and Murder

The judge pulled his robe closer, for in the open litter he felt the nip in the evening air. He was in high spirits, for the 'Fox Lay' might well prove to be the first real clue to the student's murder. The market was crowded with people and the stalls did a thriving business. But after they had turned into a broad, dark street, there were few people about. On either side rose high stone arches, alternating with long stretches of weatherbeaten brick walls. The judge learned from the inscrip­tions on the huge lanterns hanging from each gate that the main sects of the Buddhist creed were represented on Temple Street. The bearers lowered the litter in front of a two-storeyed gatehouse. The lantern suspended over the black-lacquered, double-door was inscribed with three large characters: 'Temple of Subtle Insight'.

Judge Dee stepped out. The two bearers began at once to rub their wet torsos dry. He told the elder one:

'You may take a rest here. I won't be longer than half an hour or so.' Handing him a tip, he asked, 'How long does it take to go from here to the east city gate?'

'If you go by litter, sir, it'll take you about half an hour. But if you know the short cuts by the crooked alleys, you'll get there much quicker on foot.'

The judge nodded. This meant that the murdered student could easily have visited the fox shrine near the South Gate. Entering the compound by the narrow door beside the main gate, he found the paved temple yard deserted. But there was light behind the window panes of the solid, two-storeyed main hall in the rear. To the right of the hall an open corridor ran along the outer wall of the compound. He walked along that corridor, for he planned to leave the temple by the back door and from there make his way to the south city gate. Thus the litter bearers would not know his real destination.

The corridor led to a narrow passage behind the main hall, between two dark, single-storey buildings which he took to be the quarters of the monks. The passage was dimly lit by a few small lanterns suspended from the eaves. He quickly walked on to the back gate at the end. While passing the window on the far corner of the building on his right he cast a casual look into the dark interior. Suddenly he stood stock still. He thought he had seen the sexton, sitting huddled up on the bench in the back of the bare room, and fixing him with his toad-like stare. The judge put his hands on the win­dow sill and peered inside. He had been mistaken. In the faint light supplied by the lantern of the building opposite, he saw only a pile of monk's habits on the bench, with a skull-shaped wooden prayer-drum on top. He went on, angry with himself. Evidently he had been unable to rid himself of the disturbing image of the weird sexton.

He crossed the sparse pine forest behind the temple, keep­ing to the right. Soon he came out on a broad, well-paved highway. In the far distance the towering shape of the South Gate was outlined against the starry sky.

Glad that his manoeuvre had been successfully executed, he walked quickly down the street, lit here and there by the flickering oil-lamp on a pedlar's stall. On the left side were a few dark, abandoned houses, opposite him a mass of trees, growing from thick brushwood. There was a dilapidated stone gate. Just as he was about to cross, a long line of people came down the street. Their backs were bent under heavy packs and bags, but they were chattering merrily amongst themselves. Evidently they were leaving the city to spend the Mid-autumn Festival with their relatives up-country. Waiting to let the holiday-makers pass, the judge wondered where the Emerald Cliff would be, chosen by Magistrate Lo for the banquet the following night. Probably somewhere in the mountains to the west of the city. Studying the sky, he didn't see any drifting clouds near the bright autumn moon. How­ever, the wood over on the opposite side of the road looked dark and forbidding. He went to the street-stall on his left and purchased a small storm lantern. Thus equipped he crossed the road.