Poets and Murder

'Is it true what the steward said, sir? That his throat was bitten through?'

The judge raised his eyebrows.

'Bitten through, you say? What nonsense is this? Mr Soong's neck had been cut with a ...' He broke off in mid-sentence, remembering the jagged gash. 'Speak up!’ he re­sumed testily. 'What do you mean by bitten through?'

Looking down at her tightly clasped hands, she said in a surly voice:

'Mr Soong had a girl friend. I am going steady with the head-waiter in the large tea-house in the next street, and the other night when we stood talking on the corner of the back alley, we saw Mr Soong slip outside, stealthy-like. All dressed up in black.'

'Did you see him meet his girl there?'

'No, sir. But a couple of days ago he asked me whether the silver shop behind the Temple of Confucius still sells those hairpins with round filigree knobs. He wanted a present for his girl, of course. And she ... she killed him.'

Judge Dee gave her an uncertain look.

'What exactly do you mean?' he asked quietly.

'She was a fox, sir! A fox posing as a beautiful young girl, so as to bewitch him. And when he was completely in her power, she bit his throat.' Seeing Judge Dee's contemptuous smile, she went on quickly, 'He was under a spell, sir, I swear it! And he knew it, for he asked me once whether there were many foxes here, and where they ...'

'A level-headed young woman like you,' the judge inter­rupted, 'ought to know better than to believe those silly stories about fox-magic. Foxes are just nice, clever animals that harm nobody.'

"The people here don't think so, sir,' she said stubbornly. 'I tell you that he was bewitched by a female fox. You should've heard those weird tunes he used to play on his flute at night! That strange music carried all across the orchard. I could hear it when I was combing my master's daughter's hair.'

As I passed the family quarters, I saw a handsome young girl looking through the window. That was Mr Meng's daugh­ter, I suppose?'

'Must've been her, sir. Handsome is as handsome does, and she's an open-handed, nice girl. Only sixteen, but very good at making poetry, people say.'

'To come back to your boy friend, Aster. Has Mr Soong ever visited the tea-house where he works? It's quite near, you said.'

'No, sir. He's never seen the student anywhere. And he knows all the tea- and wine-houses in this neighbourhood — too well! Please don't tell the master about my boy friend, sir. The master is very old-fashioned, and ...'

'Don't worry, Aster, I shan't.' The judge rose. 'Thanks very much.'

Outside he told the steward to take him to the main gate, where a small litter stood waiting.

As he was carried back to the tribunal, the judge reflected that the student's murder would probably not be solved before his departure for Poo-yang. It had all the makings of a vexing, time-consuming case. Well, Magistrate Lo would know how to deal with it. His colleague had handled the investigation on the spot in a businesslike manner, and he was a shrewd observer. Doubtless he also would have realized that this might after all turn out to be an inside case. The tea-merchant had seemed over-eager to convince them that a vagrant ruffian from outside had committed the crime. There were all kinds of interesting possibilities.

He pulled the six pages of the student's notes from his sleeve, and read them through carefully. Then he leaned back, pensively tugging at his moustache. The notes were to the point. Names of rebel leaders were listed that apparently were not mentioned in the official history, and data on the economic situation in the district at the time of the peasant revolt, two hundred years ago. Yet it seemed but a meagre result, if one remembered that Soong had spent every after­noon in the chancery archives during the past two weeks. The judge decided he would draw Lo's attention to the possibility that Soong's historical research had been only a pretext, and that he had come to Chin-hwa for quite a different reason.

It was curious that the superstition about fox-magic was so strong in this district. Popular belief all over the country credited the fox with supernatural powers, and the storytellers on the market loved to expand on old tales of foxes changing themselves into beautiful young girls to bewitch young men, or into old gentlemen of venerable appearance who led un­suspecting young girls astray. But classical literature, on the contrary, stated that the fox had mystic powers over malicious spirits. Therefore one would often find in old palaces and public offices a small shrine dedicated to the fox spirit, which was supposed to ward off evil, and to protect especially the official seals, the emblems of authority. He thought he had seen such a small shrine in his colleague's residence.

He wondered uneasily what surprise his colleague had in store for him at dinner, for he profoundly distrusted Lo's par­ticular kind of impish humour. Heaven only knew what mis­chief he was up to now! Lo had suggested that one of his guests was involved in a judicial problem. The person con­cerned could hardly be the Academician or the Court Poet, both high-ranking officials and famous men of letters, cer­tainly capable of dealing effectively with all their personal problems, judicial or not! It had to be that mysterious sexton who had got himself into trouble. Well, he would know soon enough. The judge closed his eyes.