Poets and Murder

As she began to sway on her feet, the judge, who was nearest to her, jumped up and took her arm. 'Are you wounded?' he asked sharply.

The poetess looked up at him with vacant eyes.

'She ... she's dead,' she faltered. 'In the green-room. A gaping wound ... in her throat. I ... I got it on my hands... .'

'What the devil does she say?' the Academician shouted. 'Did she cut her hands?'

'No, it seems that the dancer had an accident,' Judge Dee told them soberly. 'We'll see what we can do for her.' He beckoned to Lo, and led the poetess outside; she leaned heavily on his arm. In the side-hall Counsellor Kao and the house­master were giving instructions to a maid. They gave the poetess a startled look, and the maid let the tray she was carrying clatter down on to the floor. As Magistrate Lo came rushing outside, the judge told him in a whisper, 'The dancer was murdered.'

Lo snapped at his counsellor:

'Run to the main gate and tell them to let no one pass! Order a clerk to call the coroner!’ And to the housemaster: 'See to it that all the gates of the residence are locked at once, then call the matron!’ Swinging round to the dumbfounded maid, he barked, 'Take Miss Yoo-lan to the anteroom at the end of the balcony, make her comfortable in an armchair and stay with her till the matron arrives!’

Judge Dee had pulled the napkin from the maid's sash and now he quickly wiped Yoo-lan's hands. There was no wound. 'How do we get to the green-room?' he asked his colleague, handing the fainting woman over to the maid.

'Come along!' Lo said briskly and went down a narrow side-passage along the left side of the banquet hall. He pushed open the door at the end, then halted with a gasp. After a quick glance at the dark flight of stairs that led down opposite the door, Judge Dee followed him inside the narrow, oblong room that smelled of sweat and perfume. No one was about there, but the light of the high, white-silk floor lamp shone on the half-naked body of Small Phoenix, lying on her back across the ebony bench. She was clad only in a transparent underrobe; her white, muscular legs hung down on to the floor. Her thin bare arms were flung out, her broken eyes stared up at the ceiling. The left side of her throat was a mass of blood that was slowly spreading on the reed-matting of the bench. Fingermarks in blood stood out on her bony shoulders. Her heavily made-up, mask-like face, with its long nose and dis­torted mouth that showed a row of small sharp teeth, re­minded the judge of the snout of a fox.

Magistrate Lo put his hand under one of her small, pointed breasts.

'Must've happened only a few minutes ago!’ he muttered as he righted himself. 'And there's the murder weapon!’ He pointed at a pair of scissors on the floor, stained with blood.

While Lo bent over the scissors, Judge Dee cast a quick glance at the woman's garments, neatly folded on the chair in front of the simple dressing-table. On the high clothes-rack in the corner hung a voluminous green silk robe with wide sleeves, a red sash and two long scarves of transparent silk. Turning to his colleague, he said:

'She was killed as she was about to slip into that dancing-robe.' He picked up the student's score book from the table, and put it in his sleeve. His eyes fell on a small door, at a right-angle to the one through which they had come in. 'Where does this lead to?'

'To the banquet hall. It's right behind the wall screen.'

Judge Dee turned the knob. When he had opened the door a crack, he heard the voice of the Court Poet: '... that Lo keeps a physician on the premises. For ...'

Pulling the door shut softly, the judge said:

'You'll want to have a good look around, Lo. Don't you think I'd better go back to the banquet hall, and deputize as host?'

'Please do, Dee! Glad you said it was an accident. Let's keep to that; it won't do to upset the guests. Say she cut herself with a pair of scissors. See you later, when I have questioned everybody.'

The judge nodded and went out. He told the cluster of frightened servants in the side-hall to go about their business, and re-entered the banquet hall. Resuming his seat, he said:

'The dancer let her scissors drop on her right foot, and a vein was cut. The poetess tried to staunch the blood, but she got faint and rushed back to us for help. I'll deputize for Lo, if I may.'

'Trust a woman to lose her head on such an occasion!’ the Academician said. 'Glad it wasn't Yoo-lan who hurt herself. I am sorry for that Phoenix girl, though. But I can't say I mind missing that fox dance. We are gathered here for a more exalted purpose than to watch а wench tripping about!’

'Hard luck for a dancer to hurt her foot,' the poet remarked. 'Well, now that we are four, we might as well forego all for­mality. Why don't we have these three tables turned into one? If Yoo-lan picks up again, we'll make room for her.'

'Very good!’ the judge exclaimed. He clapped his hands and ordered the servants to push the two side-tables up against the main one. He and the sexton moved their seats up, so that now they sat facing Shao and Chang across the improvised square table. He motioned the maids to refill their cups. After they had drunk to the speedy recovery of the dancer, two servants brought a tray with roasted duck, and the orchestra began another melody. The Academician raised his hand and shouted: