Judge Dee at Work

'Was she murdered by robbers?'

Captain Pan sombrely shook his head. His face had gone a deadly pale. 'The murderer was a fellow-officer of mine, sir. One of those disgusting woman-chasers; you could never have a decent, clean conversation with him. Always talking about women, women, always letting himself be caught in their filthy little games ...' The young man spat out those last words. He quickly gulped down the tea, then added in a dull voice, 'He tried to seduce my wife, and strangled her when she refused. He'll be beheaded at dawn.' Suddenly he buried his face in his hands.

Judge Dee silently observed the stricken youngster for a while. Then he said softly: 'Yes, you had very bad luck indeed.' He rose and resumed in a businesslike manner, 'I must see the Marshal again. Please take me there.'

Captain Pan got up quickly. As he conducted the judge down a long corridor where orderlies were rushing to and fro, he said: 'I can take you only as far as the anteroom, sir. Only mem­bers of the High Command are allowed beyond.'

'That'll do,' Judge Dee said.

Captain Pan showed the judge into a hall, crowded with officers, then said he would wait outside to lead the judge back to the main gate. As soon as the judge had entered, the hubbub of voices ceased abruptly. A colonel stepped up to him. After a cur­sory glance at Judge Dee's cap he asked coldly: 'What can I do for you, Magistrate?'

'I have to see the Marshal on urgent business.'

'Impossible!’ the colonel said abruptly. 'The Marshal is in con­ference. I have strict orders to admit nobody.'

'A human life is at stake,' the judge said gravely.

'A human life, you say!’ the colonel exclaimed with a sneer. "The Marshal is deliberating on two hundred thousand human lives that are at stake, Magistrate! May I lead the way?'

Judge Dee grew pale. He had failed. Piloting the judge politely but firmly to the exit, the colonel said: 'I trust that you'll under­stand, Magistrate... .'

'Magistrate!’ shouted another colonel who came rushing in­side. Despite the cold his face was covered with sweat. 'Do you happen to know where a colleague of yours is, called Dee?'

'I am Magistrate Dee,' the judge replied.

'Heaven be praised! I have been looking for you for hours! The Marshal wants you!'

He dragged the judge by his sleeve through a door at the back of the anteroom into a semi-dark passage. Thick felt hangings dampened all sound. He opened the heavy door at the end, and let the judge go inside.

It was curiously still in the enormous palace hall. A group of high-ranking officers in resplendent armour stood round a monu­mental desk, piled with maps and papers. All were looking silently at the giant who was pacing the floor in front of it, his hands clasped behind his back.

He wore an ordinary mail jacket with battered, iron shoulder-plates and the baggy leather trousers of a cavalry man. But on top of his high helmet the golden marshal's dragon raised its horned head. As the Marshal walked to and fro with heavy tread, he let the point of the broad sword that was dangling from his belt clatter carelessly on the delicately carved, marble floor-tiles.

Judge Dee knelt down. The colonel approached the Marshal. Standing stiffly at attention, he said something in a clipped voice.

'Dee?' the Marshal barked. 'Don't need the fellow anymore, send him away! No, wait! I still have a couple of hours before I order the retreat.' Then he shouted at the judge: 'Hey there, stop crawling on the floor! Come here!’

Judge Dee rose hurriedly, went up to the Marshal and made a deep bow. Then he righted himself. The judge was a tall man, but the Marshal topped him by at least two inches. Hooking his thumbs in his swordbelt, the giant glared at the judge with his fierce right eye. His left eye was covered by a black band — it had been pierced by a barbarian arrow during the northern campaign.

'You are good at riddles, they say, eh, Dee? Well, I'll show you a riddle!' Turning to the desk, he shouted: 'Lew! Mao!’

Two men wearing generals' armour hurriedly detached them­selves from the group round the table. Judge Dee recognized the lean general in the shining golden armour as Lew, commander of the left wing. The broad-shouldered, squat man wearing a golden cuirass and a silver helmet was Mao, commanding general of the military police. Only Sang, the commander of the right wing, was missing. With the Marshal these three were the highest military leaders; in this national crisis the Emperor had placed the fate of the Chinese people and the dynasty in their hands. The judge made a low bow. The two generals gave him a stony look.

The Marshal strode through the hall and kicked a door open. They silently passed through a number of broad, empty corridors, the iron boots of the three officers resounding hollowly on the marble floor. Then they descended a broad staircase. At the bottom two palace guards sprang to attention. At a sign of the Marshal they slowly pushed open a heavy double-gate.

They entered a colossal vault, dimly ht by tall silver oil lamps, placed at regular intervals in recesses in the high, windowless walls. In the centre of the vault stood two enormous coffins, lac­quered a bright red, the colour of resurrection. They were of iden­tical size, each measuring about ten by thirty foot, and over fifteen foot high.