The Chinese Maze Murders (21 page)

Suddenly a thin man clad in a ragged gown detached himself from the shadows. He said in broken Chinese:

“Would the master like an Uigur princess?”

Ma Joong stood still and looked the fellow up and down. The man smirked ingratiatingly, showing his broken teeth.

“If I should beat your face to pulp,” Ma Joong said sourly, “I could not possible make you uglier! Run ahead and lead me to a good place. But cheap, mind you!”

As he spoke he jerked the man round and gave him a well-aimed kick.

“Yah, yah!” the other cried. He quickly led Ma Joong into a sidestreet.

On both sides stood one-storied houses. Once their facades had been gaily decorated with reliefs in plaster work. But wind and rain had washed off the colours and nobody had bothered to repair them.

Greasy, patched curtains screened the door openings. As they approached heavily made-up girls clad in garish rags pulled aside the screens and invited them in in a mixture of Chinese and foreign languages.

The guide took Ma Joong to a house that looked slightly better than the others. Two large paper lanterns hung over the door.

“Here you are, master!” the guide said. “All Uigur princesses of the blood!” He added an obscene remark, then held out his dirty palm.

Ma Joong gripped him by the throat and bumped his head against the ramshackle door.

“That will serve to announce my arrival!” he said. “Your commission you will get from the house. Don’t try to earn a double fee, you bastard!”

The door swung open and a tall fellow with naked torso appeared. His bare head was closely shaved. He looked at Ma Joong with one baleful eye. The place of
the other eye was taken by an ugly red scar.

“This dogshead,” Ma Joong said gruffly, “wants to extract an extra tip from me!”

The other turned savagely on the guide.

“Get away!” he barked. “You can come back later for your commission!” And to Ma Joong, sullenly:

“Come in, stranger!”

A nauseating smell of burned lambsgrease hung in the room. It was stifling hot. In the middle of the stamped-earth floor stood a large iron brazier with glowing coals. Half a dozen people were sitting round it on low wooden benches. They were roasting pieces of lambfat stuck on copper pins. There were three men. They had stripped to their baggy trousers, the light of a coloured paper lantern shone on their perspiring faces. The women that accompanied them wore wide pleated red and green muslin skirts and sleeveless short jackets. Their hair was done up in thick rolls mixed with red woollen cords. Their jackets hung open displaying their naked breasts.

The doorkeeper gave Ma Joong a suspicious look.

“Fifty cash for a meal and a woman, to be paid in advance!” he said.

Ma Joong muttered something and started fumbling in his sleeve. He produced a string of money, and loosened the knot laboriously. Then he slowly counted out fifty coppers on the dirty counter.

The other stretched out his hand. But Ma Joong quickly gripped his wrist and pressed his hand down on the counter before he could scoop up the money.

“Don’t you serve a drink with the meal?” he growled.

The man grimaced as Ma Joong tightened his grip.

“No!” he snarled.

Ma Joong let go and roughly pushed him back. He started to gather up the money saying:

“Nothing doing! There are other places besides yours!”

The other looked greedily at the disappearing heap of coppers.

“All right!” he said, “you can have one jug of wine!”

“That is better!” Ma Joong said.

He turned round and prepared to join the company round the brazier. Adapting himself to the style of the establishment he first slipped his right then his left arm out of his robe, and knotted the empty sleeves round his waist. He let himself down on the empty bench.

The others looked thoughtfully at his heavy torso, covered with scars.

Ma Joong pulled a stick with lambsfat from the fire. He was something of a gourmet and the rancid smell made his stomach turn. But he ripped off a piece with his teeth and ate it.

One of the three Uigurs was very drunk. He had put his arm round the waist of the girl next to him and rocked to and fro softly humming a queer little tune. Perspiration streamed down his head and shoulders.

The two others were sober. They were spare men but Ma Joong knew that their flat, wiry muscles were not to be despised. They spoke rapidly together in their own tongue.

The owner placed a small earthenware jug on the floor by Ma Joong’s side.

One of the girls rose and walked over to the counter. She took a three-stringed guitar from one of the shelves. Leaning against the wall she started to sing accompanying herself on the guitar. Her voice was hoarse but the chant had a lilt that was not unpleasing. Ma Joong noticed that the wide muslin skirts of those girls were so thin that one could see right through.

From the door opening in the back emerged a fourth girl, not unattractive in a vulgar way. She was barefoot
and dressed only in a loose pleated skirt of faded silk. Her naked torso was shapely but her breasts and arms were smeared with soot. Apparently she had been helping in the kitchen.

A faint smile appeared on her round face as she sat down next to Ma Joong.

He put the jug to his lips and swallowed a draught of the fiery liquor. Then he spat in the fire and asked:

“What is your name, stranger?”

The girl smiled and shook her head. She did not understand Chinese.

“Fortunately my business with this wench does not include conversation!” Ma Joong remarked to the two men opposite.

The taller of the two men guffawed. He asked in atrocious Chinese:

“What is your name, stranger?”

“My name is Yoong Bao,” Ma Joong replied. “What is yours?”

“I am called The Hunter,” the other answered. “Your girl’s nickname is Tulbee. What brought you here?”

Ma Joong gave him a meaningful look. He laid his hand on the thigh of the girl by his side.

“You need not come all the way out here for that!” The Hunter said with a sneer.

Ma Joong scowled angrily. He rose. The girl tried to pull him down but he roughly pushed her back. He walked round the brazier and jerked The Hunter up by his arm. Swinging him round he barked:

“What do you mean by interrogating me, you dirty dogshead?”

The Hunter looked at the others. The second Uigur concentrated on a piece of roasted fat. The owner stood leaning on the counter picking his teeth. They made no sign to come to his assistance. The Hunter said sullenly:

“Don’t take offence, Yoong Bao! I just asked because Chinese rarely come here.”

Ma Joong let him go and returned to his seat. The girl put her arm round him and he fondled her for a while. Then he emptied his jug in one gulp.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he said:

“Well, since we are gathered here as old friends, I don’t mind after all to answer your question. A few weeks ago I had a friendly argument with a fellow in the military post three days from here. I patted him on the head and the fellow’s skull broke. Since the authorities often misunderstand such incidents, I thought I had better do some travelling. Now I am here, and my funds have dwindled to practically nothing. If there is any job to be done with money in it, I am your man!”

The Hunter rapidly translated for the other man, a squat fellow with a bullet-shaped head. They gave Ma Joong an appraising look.

“There is not much going on just now, brother!” The Hunter said cautiously.

“Well,” Ma Joong said, “what about kidnapping a girl? That is a commodity that is always in demand!”

“Not in this town, brother!” the other answered. “All the houses have enough and to spare. A few years ago, when all the traffic went through this town, yes, then one could get good silver for a girl. But not now!”

“Is there no Chinese girl in this quarter?” Ma Joong inquired.

The Hunter shook his head.

“Not one,” he replied. “But what is wrong with that wench by your side?”

Ma Joong pulled the girl’s skirt loose.

“Nothing,” he replied, “and anyway I am not particular!”

“It would just be like you haughty Chinese to despise an Uigur girl!” the other said nastily.

Ma Joong thought it better not to make a quarrel. So he said:

“Not me! I like your girls the way they are!” And as the girl made no attempt to cover herself up again, he added: “They are not prudish either!”

“Yes,” The Hunter said, “we are a fine race. Much more virile than you Chinese. Some day we shall swoop down on you from north and west and conquer your entire country!”

“Not in my life time!” Ma Joong said cheerfully.

The Hunter gave Ma Joong another sharp look. Then he started on a long story to the other Uigur. The latter first shook his head emphatically. Then he seemed to agree.

The Hunter rose and came over to Ma Joong, He pushed the girl away unceremoniously and sat down by Ma Joong’s side.

“Listen, brother,” he said confidentially, “we might let you in on a nice job! Are you familiar with the weapons used in your regular army?”

Ma Joong thought that this was a curious question. He replied eagerly:

“I have been a soldier for a couple of years, my friend! I know all about it!”

The Hunter nodded.

“There is a bit of fighting coming on,” he said, “and there is a lot in it for a good man!”

Ma Joong held out his open hand.

“No,” The Hunter said, “not in cash. But when we start in a couple of days, as much in loot as you can grab!”

“I am ready!” Ma Joong exclaimed enthusiastically. “Where shall I join you?”

The Hunter again talked rapidly to the other man. Then he rose and said:

“Come along, brother, I shall take you to our headman!”

Ma Joong jumped up and drew his robe over his shoulders. He gave the girl a friendly pat and said:

“I’ll be back, Tulbee!”

They left the house, The Hunter walking in front.

He led Ma Joong through two dark alleys, then entered what seemed to be a ruined compound. They halted in front of a small hovel.

He knocked on the door. There was no answer.

The Hunter shrugged his shoulders and pushed the door open, beckoning Ma Joong to follow him.

They sat down on low footstools covered with sheepskin. The room was bare but for a low wooden couch.

“The boss will be back soon,” The Hunter said.

Ma Joong nodded and prepared himself for a long wait.

Suddenly the door burst open and a broad-shouldered man came running in. He shouted excitedly at The Hunter.

“What is he jabbering about?” asked Ma Joong.

The Hunter looked frightened.

“He says that the constables have just raided the east quarter!”

Ma Joong jumped up.

“This is the time for me to leave!” he exclaimed. “If they come here I am lost! I’ll be back tomorrow. How can I find this wretched place?”

“Just ask for Orolakchee!” the other replied.

“I am off now. That wench will keep!”

And Ma Joong rushed out.

He found Judge Dee sitting alone in his private office, apparently deep in thought.

When Judge Dee saw Ma Joong he said with a frown:

“Tao Gan and Headman Fang came in a few moments ago. They reported that the search had been a failure. Tao Gan went to the Southern Row, but they have bought no
new girls there since the last half year. Did you find any clue to White Orchid’s whereabouts in that northern licensed quarter?”

“Nothing that pointed to the kidnapped girl,” Ma Joong answered, “but I heard a queer story.”

Then he told the judge all about his adventure with The Hunter and Tulbee.

Judge Dee listened absent-mindedly. He said:

“Those rascals probably want you to join them in a raid on another tribe. I would not venture out with them into the plain over the river if I were you!”

Ma Joong shook his head doubtfully but the judge continued:

“Tomorrow morning I want you to accompany me and Sergeant Hoong on a visit to the country estate of Governor Yoo. But tomorrow night you can go out to the Northern Row again and try to learn more about the headman of those barbarian rascals.”

Seventeenth Chapter

MRS. YOO PAYS A SECOND VISIT TO THE TRIBUNAL; A QUEER DISCOVERY IS MADE IN AN OLD MANSION

J
UDGE
D
EE
had planned to set out for the Governor’s country estate early in the morning. But just as he was finishing his morning tea, Sergeant Hoong announced that Mrs. Yoo and her son Yoo Shan had come to see the judge as requested.

Judge Dee had them brought in.

Yoo Shan was tall for his age. He had an open, intelligent face and an air of self-assurance that pleased the judge.

He made Mrs. Yoo and her son sit down in front of his desk. After the exchange of the usual courtesies the judge said:

“I regret, Madam, that pressure of other business has prevented me from devoting as much time to your case as I would have liked. I have not yet succeeded in solving the riddle of the Governor’s scroll picture. However, I have a feeling that if I knew more about the general situation in your household when your late husband was still alive, I would be in a better position to solve the problem. Hence I would like to ask you a few questions, for my own guidance.”