Necklace and Calabash

With a wry smile the judge struggled with lanky branches and thorny shrubs, keeping in a north-easterly direction. Sooner than he had expected he came out on a narrow path. To his right it disappeared in a mass of tangled weeds, but to the left it was fairly clear. The judge selected a thick, dead branch and laid it across the path, so as not to miss the spot when he came back. If he came back, rather.

After he had followed the winding path for a while he noticed that the night wasn't so quiet any more. There was a constant rustling among the thick undergrowth lining the path on either side, alternated with squeaks and growls, and night-birds called out in the dark branches overhead. Now and then sounded the melancholy hooting of an owl. Small animals scuttled away from the light the lantern threw in front of his boots, but he didn't see any snakes. 'Probably only mentioned them to tease me!' he muttered with a smile. She was a plucky girl. All at once he halted and stepped back quickly. A spotted snake about five feet long slithered across the path. Plucky, and truthful too, he reflected sourly.

Walking through the eerie pine forest he soon lost his sense of time. After what he estimated to be about half an hour, the path broadened out somewhat, and there was a glimmer of light among the trees ahead. Then he saw the water, and across it the massive bulk of the north-west watch-tower. It's left corner rose up from the river, a silent mass of water, very black under the overcast sky.

The footpath bent to the right, running directly south along the west moat of the Water Palace. Going down on his knees, he crept through the row of low trees and shrubs that separated him from the brink of the moat. When he was crouching right on the water's edge, he discovered to his dismay that the moat was much broader than it had looked from midstream that morning. He had estimated it then at about fifteen feet, but actually it was nearer to thirty or forty. The still, dark water a few feet below him looked singularly uninviting, and he could discern no trace of the sluice-door under its opaque surface. Up to now, however, Mr Hao's instructions, which the bullet-headed accountant had reeled off, had proved correct.

He took a thin, dry branch from the underwood, leaned forward and explored the water. Yes, there was indeed a broad beam there, about three feet under the surface. Suddenly shouted orders came from the battlement of the watch-tower, followed by the clatter of iron boots on stone, very loud in the still night. The judge quickly ducked under the branches. The watch was being relieved, which meant it must be exactly midnight.

He crept to the brink again, and strained his eyes. Would there in fact be a ledge along the base of the wall? He could distinguish only a narrow, stubbly strip of muddy weeds, just above water level. With a deep sigh he decided he would have to find out for himself.

Having crept back to the path, he unstrapped the long black sash across his chest and cut it in half on the edge of his sword. He stuffed his skull-cap into his sleeve, and wound the halved sash tightly round his head. Then he took off his black robe, and folded it up neatly. Having wrapped his sword up in the other half of the sash, he placed it on top of his robe together with the lantern, so as to prevent gusts of wind from blowing the robe away. After he had wound his wide trousers tightly about his calves, he tucked the ends into his boots, and tied the straps round his legs. Finally he parted his long beard in two strands, which he threw over his shoulders. Having tied the ends together at the nape of his neck, he worked the tips up under his head-cover.

When he had crept back to the brink of the moat, he cast a worried look up at the battlements. Mr Hao had said that the archers would 'be busy elsewhere' at the time the cashier reached the palace. The plotters had evidently created a diversion for the archers to keep them from watching. Well, he would have to take his chance. He let himself slide slowly down into the water. It wasn't too bad on his feet and legs, but ice-cold on his naked belly and breast. He reflected wryly that Tai Min had doubtless swum under water along the sluice beam. But he didn't feel up to such an acrobatic feat.

Keeping his eyes and his nose above the water, he groped his way along the slithery beam. His hands met slimy, indefinable objects, and soft, clinging shreds that began to wriggle at his touch. The woodwork of the old sluice door was rotting away and he had to reckon with unexpected gaps. Halfway he suddenly lost his hold. The water bubbled round his head when he went under. He managed to pull himself up again on to the beam, took a deep breath, and continued his course.

When he had reached the other side he heaved a sigh of relief. Crouching in the water, he explored with his hands the muddy strip along the foot of the wall. The mysterious Mr Hao was prob­ably a repulsive specimen, but the judge appreciated his accuracy. For there Was indeed a ledge — covered with foul-smelling silt, overgrown with weeds, but sufficient to supply a foothold. Having cast an anxious look at the protruding battlement twenty feet above him, he slowly rose up out of the water and stepped up on the ledge. With his back and the flat of his outflung hands pressed against the sloping wall, he edged along and round the tower's corner. Now he was facing the river, a glittering expanse of jet-black water.