Necklace and Calabash

'I don't want any mummery!’ the judge told him coldly. 'Can your lieutenant get me an old donkey and a pair of crutches?'

Liu nodded and went out at once.

'Wonderful fellow, Liu!’ the captain said. 'Have a cup of tea, sir!’ Then he gave the judge a circumstantial account of how Liu would make it appear that there was a prisoner in one of the cells downstairs, and how he would fake a break from that cell. He went into every detail with boyish delight. When he had finished he asked, 'What about the murder of that cashier Tai Min, sir?'

'That crime falls under your jurisdiction, Siew, for it was com­mitted right here.' He told him that Lang had admitted having had Tai Min tortured and killed because the cashier had refused to tell Lang where he had hidden the necklace he had been hired to steal. 'When you have arrested Lang's men tonight, we shall go to the Kingfisher and arrest Lang himself, and then I shall formally charge him with the crime. But that man Hao I men­tioned is far more important than Lang. As soon as Hao has arrived in the godown, I shall whistle twice on my fingers; then you let your men swoop down on them. Hao may have people with him, though. Let me give you a rough idea of the ground.'

He took a piece of paper and made a sketch of the clearing and the godowns. The captain compared it with his own map, and pointed out where he would post his men. Then Lieutenant Liu came back.

'Donkey is ready in the backyard, sir,' he announced. 'You'd better go quickly, for there's nobody watching outside. Not yet.'

Judge Dee hurriedly thanked the captain. Liu took him down a flight of rickety stairs to a small kitchen yard. While the judge was mounting the ancient donkey, Liu handed him a pair of well-worn crutches.

'Good work!’ he whispered to the lieutenant and rode through the narrow gate.

Letting his shoulders sag and keeping his head down, he guided his donkey to the street running parallel to the main thorough­fare. He was banking on Master Gourd being such a familiar figure in Rivertown, that people would take him for granted and not look at him too closely. The only obvious difference was that he carried a sword. He quickly unstrapped it, and wedged it in between the crutches across the donkey's rump.

The donkey walked along sedately, picking its way through the milling crowd. Judge Dee noted with satisfaction that no one gave him a second look. Now and then someone called out a greeting, to which he replied by raising his hand. He drove his mount in the direction of the Kingfisher, for he didn't want to tempt pro­vidence too long, and his inn would be the last place where the agents from the palace would expect him to hide.

The narrow alley at the back of the Kingfisher was completely deserted. The bustle of the noon meal was just over, the servants were taking a rest and the tradesmen would not be coming till an hour or so before the evening rice. The judge dismounted at the back door and peered inside at the untidy garden. The folding doors of Lang's suite were closed and no sounds came from the kitchen. The window of his own room on the second floor was shuttered, but the one of the room below was half-open. Someone was strumming a moon-guitar, the same melody the judge had heard on his first night there. Now he remembered it. The tune had been popular in the capital many years ago. Having observed the garden for a while, he decided that the old storehouse would serve his purpose. The door stood ajar, and he slipped inside, the crutches and his sword under his arm.

The shed did not look very inviting. Cobwebs were hanging down from the mouldy rafters, and there was a musty, unpleasant smell. Broken chairs and tables were stacked up against the back wall, but the floor was swept clean. When he had a closer look at the old furniture he discovered behind it a heap of hemp sacks, piled up against the wall.

He shoved a rickety table out of the way and prodded the sacks with the point of his sword. They contained paddy-husks. He decided they would do as a bed for a few hours. The donkey would doubtless amble back to wherever it had come from. After he had stood the crutches against the wall beside the single, barred window, he rearranged the sacks, then laid himself down on top, close to the wall. With his hands cupped behind his head, he reviewed the latest developments.

Mr Hao's letter to Lang had been good news indeed. It proved that the plotters in the palace had not yet got the necklace in their hands. Thus he could discard one possibility he had been considering, namely that they or Mr Hao had intercepted the cashier after the theft and bought the necklace directly from the thief. This theory had been based on the fact that the mysterious Mr Hao had failed to turn up the next day at Lang's. Now it was clear that Mr Hao had been detained, exactly as he had stated in his letter to Lang, and he was expecting to conclude the deal tonight, in Lang's godown. This was excellent. For Hao's arrest would make the plotters in the palace pause and ponder for a while, thus giving him, the judge, a breathing space to concen­trate on the search for the necklace. The long morning on the river had made him drowsy, and he closed his eyes.