The Phantom of the Temple

'You must be right, Ma Joong, that weal is clear proof. One would have expected the face to look different, but the subsequent severing of the head accounts for that. Now, when would this foul crime have been commit­ted?' The judge felt the arms and the legs, then bent the right elbow. 'Judging by the condition of the corpse, death must have occurred about midnight. That is at least one fact that accords with our headman's theory.' He was about to let the arm of the dead man go when he sud­denly checked himself. He opened the balled fist and examined the smooth palm, then he scrutinized the fingers. He let the arm drop and walked to the other end of the table to have a look at the feet.

Righting himself, he said to Sergeant Hoong, 'That blood-spattered bundle in the corner there contains the deceased's clothes, I suppose? Put it here on the table and open it!'

The judge selected from the pile of clothes a pair of patched trousers, and laid them over the legs of the dead body. 'Just as I thought!' he muttered.

Giving his two assistants a sombre look, he said: 'I was very wrong, my friends, when this morning I said that this was just another crime of violence of the underworld. To begin with, it was a double murder.'

They stared at him in incomprehension.

'A double murder?' Sergeant Hoong exclaimed. 'What does that mean, sir?'

'It means that not one but two people were murdered. The heads were severed so that the bodies could be switched. Can't you see that this isn't Seng-san's body? Compare the sun-burnt face with the smooth white skin of the hands and forearms of the body, and look at these well-kept hands, at the feet without callouses! Moreover, this is the body of a fairly tall man, though Seng-san's trousers are too long for him. Our headman has still a lot to learn!’

'I'll call the stupid ass at once!' Ma Joong muttered. 'Then we'll give him a sound ...'

'No, you'll do nothing of the sort!' Judge Dee said quickly. 'The murderer must have had a very strong reason for making it appear that only Seng-san was mur­dered, and that this is Seng-san's body. We shan't un­deceive him. For the time being, that is.'

'Where's Seng-san's body, and the head of that un­known party?' Ma Joong asked, perplexed.

'That's what I want to know too,' the judge replied curtly. 'Heavens, a double murder, and we haven't even the faintest inkling of the motive of this callous crime!' He tugged at his moustache, staring down at Seng-san's distorted face. Then he turned round and said curtly, 'We'll go to the jail next door and have a talk with Ah-liu.'

The small cell was so dark that they could hardly make out the huddled shape of the prisoner who was sitting on the other side of the iron bars. When he saw the three men stepping up to the door, he hastily scrambled away to the farthest comer with a loud clanking of chains.

'Don't beat me!’ he shouted frantically. 'I swear that I ...'

'Shut up!’ the judge barked, then continued in a more friendly voice: 'I just came to have a talk with you about your friend Seng-san. If it wasn't you who murdered him up there in the deserted temple, who did? And how did you get the blood on your jacket?'

Ah-liu crawled to the door. Hugging his knees with his manacled hands, he began in a whining voice, 'I wouldn't know, noble lord. How could I? Seng-san had a few enemies, of course. Who hasn't, with all the com­petition that's going on nowadays? But none that would risk his life to kill him. No sir. As to the blood, only Heaven knows how it got on my clothes. It wasn't there when I left the tavern, that I know!’ He shook his head and began again. 'Seng-san was a tough fellow, he knew how to use his hands. A knife too, for that matter. Holy heaven, suppose it was ...' Suddenly he broke off.

'Speak up, rascal! Suppose it was who?'

'Well ... I think it must have been the ghost, sir. The phantom of the temple, as we call her. A woman all dressed up in a long shroud, sir. She walks in the old garden there, when there's a full moon. A horrible vam­pire, sir. Likes to gnaw off a man's head. We never go there when—'

'Stop talking nonsense!' the judge interrupted him impatiently. 'Did Seng-san have a quarrel with someone recently? A real quarrel, I mean, not just a drunken brawl?'

'Well, he had a mighty big row with his brother, sir; a couple of weeks ago, it was. Lao-woo, that's what his brother is called. Not quite as tall as Seng-san, but a mean bastard all right. He took Seng-san's wench, and Seng-san swore he'd kill him for that. Then Lao-woo left for Tong-kang. With the skirt. But a woman, that's no reason for killing a man, is it, sir? If it had been money now ...'

'Did Seng-san have among his friends or acquaintances a fairly tall, lean chap? Kind of dandy, say a shop clerk or something like that?'

Ah-liu thought hard, wrinkling his low brow. Then he replied, 'Well, yes, I did see him a few times with a tallish fellow who was rather neatly dressed in a blue gown. Had a real cap on his head too. I asked Seng-san who he was and what they were talking about so busily, but he just told me to shut up and mind my own business. Which I did.'