Judge Dee at Work

The four men dismounted in front of a rustic bamboo gate. The two constables standing guard there saluted, then pushed the gate open. Before entering, Judge Dee surveyed the large garden. It was not very well kept. The flowering shrubs and bushes round the lotus pond were running wild, but they gave the place a kind of savage beauty. Some butterflies were fluttering lazily over the large lotus leaves that covered the pond's surface.

'Meng Lan was very fond of this garden,' Yuan Kai remarked.

The judge nodded. He looked at the red-lacquered wooden bridge that led over the water to a hexagonal pavilion, open on all sides. Slender pillars supported the pointed roof, decked with green tiles. Beyond the pond, at the back of the garden, he saw a low, rambling wooden building. Its thatched roof was half covered by the low foliage of the tall oak trees that stood behind the house.

It was getting very hot. Judge Dee wiped the perspiration from his brow and crossed the narrow bridge, the three others follow­ing behind him. The small pavilion offered hardly enough space for the four men. Judge Dee stood looking for a while at the thin figure, clad in a simple house-robe of grey cloth, lying back in the bamboo armchair. Then he felt the shoulders, and the limp arms. Righting himself, he said, 'The body is just getting stiff. In this hot, humid weather it's hard to fix the time of death. In any case after midnight, I would say.' He carefully pulled the knife out of the dead man's breast. He examined the long, thin blade and the plain ivory hilt. Ma Joong pursed his lips and said, 'Won't help us much, sir. Every ironmonger in town keeps these cheap knives in stock.'

Judge Dee silently handed the knife to him. Ma Joong wrapped it up in a sheet of paper he had taken from his sleeve. The judge studied the thin face of the dead man. It was frozen in an eery, lopsided grin. The poet had a long, ragged moustache and a wispy grey goatee; the judge put his age at about sixty. He took the large wine jar from the table and shook it. Only a little wine was left. Then he picked up the wine cup standing next to it, and examined it. With a puzzled look he put it in his sleeve. Turning to the headman he said:

'Tell the constables to make a stretcher of some branches, and convey the body to the tribunal, for the autopsy.' And to Yuan Kai: 'You might sit on that stone bench over there near the fence for a while, Mr Yuan. I won't be long.' He motioned Ma Joong to follow him.

They crossed the bridge again. The thin planks creaked under the weight of the two heavy men. They walked round the lotus pond and on to the house. With relief Judge Dee inhaled the cool air in the shadow under the porch. Ma Joong knocked.

A rather handsome but surly-looking youngster opened. Ma Joong told him that the magistrate wanted to see Mrs Meng. As the boy went hurriedly inside, Judge Dee sat down at the rickety bamboo table in the centre of the sparsely furnished room. Ma Joong stood with folded arms behind his chair. The judge took in the old, worn furniture, and the cracked plaster walls. He said, 'Robbery can't have been the motive, evidently.'

'There — the motive is coming, sir!’ Ma Joong whispered. 'Old husband, pretty young wife — we know the rest!’

Judge Dee looked round and saw that a slender woman of about twenty-five had appeared in the door opening. Her face was not made up and her cheeks showed the traces of tears. But her large, Liquid eyes, gracefully curved eyebrows, full red lips and smooth complexion made her a very attractive woman. The robe she wore was of faded blue cloth, but it did not conceal her splendid figure. After one frightened look at the judge she made an obeisance, then remained standing there with downcast eyes, waiting respect­fully till he would address her.

'I am distressed, madam,' Judge Dee said in a gentle voice, 'that I have to bother you so soon after the tragedy. I trust that you'll understand, however, that I must take swift action to bring the vile murderer to justice.' As she nodded he went on: 'When did you see your husband last?'

'We had our evening rice here in this room,' Mrs Meng replied in a soft, melodious voice. 'Thereafter, when I had cleared the table, my husband read here for a few hours, and then said that since there was a beautiful moon he would go to the garden pavilion and have a few cups of wine there.'

'Did he often do that?'

'Oh yes, he would go out there nearly every other night, enjoy­ing the cool evening breeze, and humming songs.'

'Did he often receive visitors there?'

'Never, Your Honour. He liked to be left alone, and did not encourage visitors. The few people who came to see him he always received in the afternoon, and here in the hall, for a cup of tea. I loved this peaceful life, my husband was so considerate, he ...'

Her eyes became moist and her mouth twitched. But soon she took hold of herself and went on, 'I prepared a large jar of warm wine, and brought it out to the pavilion. My husband said that I need not wait up for him, since he planned to be sitting there till a late hour. Thus I went to bed. Early this morning the servant knocked frantically on the door of our bedroom. I then saw that my husband wasn't there. The boy told me that he had found him in the pavilion... .'