The Phantom of the Temple

At approximately the same time that Judge Dee and his ladies sat down to dinner, Ma Joong walked up to the counter of a street stall selling cheap liquor behind the Temple of the War God. The two coolies sitting there quickly paid their coppers and left. The owner, a tall ruffian wearing a loose jacket that left his hairy breast bare, reached up and transferred the single oil-lamp that lit his stall from the front to the back.

Ma Joong understood. His official black cap marking him as a member of the tribunal frightened customers. He took a handful of coppers from his sleeve and placed them on the counter, at the same time ordering a drink. The owner stretched out his hand, but Ma Joong quickly put his large fist over the coppers.

'Slowly, my friend. You'll have to earn them! I want to talk to you about Seng-san. The fellow who was murdered last night. You know him?'

'Sure. That's another good customer gone! And he'd have become an even better customer shortly. Told me last week he was on to a big thing, with big money!’

'Something a foreign barbarian was mixed up with, eh?'

'Oh no! Seng-san wasn't what you'd call particular, but he drew the line at those blasted foreigners!’

'Who did he work for, then? He was all brawn and no brain, couldn't have managed a big affair single-handed.'

The other shrugged.

'Smelled like blackmail to me. And that Seng-san could handle by himself all right!’

'You know who he was blackmailing?'

'Not a hope! Seng-san was a big talker, but on this job he kept mum. Just said there was a pot of money in it.'

'Where did the bastard live?'

'Now here, now there. Often spent the night in the deserted temple of late. Have another drink?'

'No thank you. Perhaps the fellow he was blackmail­ing was staying in the temple too.'

Are you crazy? Who would you blackmail there, I ask you? The white spook?' He spat on the ground.

'The Head of the Beggars might know. Who is that, nowadays?'

'Nobody. This is a hell of a city for a poor man to make a living, mister. First the henchmen of that bastard Chien Mow took all the businesses in their own dirty paws. Then that bearded son of a — I beg your pardon, the present magistrate, I meant to say, took over. And he keeps an eye on everything, all right! Heavens, that was old Chow who passed! Without giving me a second look. Listen, mister, do me a favour and walk on, will you? You're ruining my business. If you want to have a long and cosy talk, go and see the old King of the Beggars.'

Ma Joong pushed the coppers over to him.

'You just said there was no such man!’

'There isn't. Not any more. The King was a very tough customer, once. A real giant, of Tartar descent, I think. He was the boss of the underworld. But he's old now, and he's got trouble with his ticker. Lives somewhere in a cellar, I believe. Many thanks for the coppers, but don't come again, if you can help it!’

Ma Joong grunted something and walked on. He thought that blackmail might well have been the motive of the double murder. The object hidden in the temple might be a package of compromising letters. First the victim tried to recover them; then, when he failed, he killed the two blackmailers.

Ma Joong spent the next hour visiting four wine-houses. When he left the last one, he muttered, 'Wish Chiao Tai were with me! Makes the job much more pleasant when you have a friend you can talk to. Wonder what Brother Chiao is doing with himself in the capital. Having one more unlucky love affair, I wager! Well, I have drunk a lot of bad liquor, but I haven't learned a thing. Everybody agrees that Seng-san was a mean bully, and that he had no friends except for Ah-liu. I don't expect much from the so-called King of the Beggars either. Seems to be a pitiful old wreck. Ekes out a miser­able existence with only one old fellow who used to be his chief henchman in the old days. I should—'

He looked round. A tall, lean man had overtaken him. It was the painter Lee Ko.