On the second floor it was pitch dark. Tao Gan felt along the cobweb-covered plaster wall till he found the door. He pushed it open and remained standing there surveying the dimly lighted, low-ceilinged room. Two men were sitting at a round table with a depression in the center for throwing dice. One was a fat man with a heavy jowled, expressionless face and a closely shaved head. He was the manager of the gambling den. The other was a thin fellow with a pronounced squint. Men with this defect are in great demand as supervisors of gambling games because persons who cheat never know whether they are being watched or not.
"It's brother Tao," the fat man said without much enthusiasm. "Don't stand hanging about there. Come inside! It's too early for a game, but there'll be people in soon."
"No," Tao Gan said. "I am rather in a hurry. I only looked in to see whether the carpenter Mao Yuan is here. I want to collect some money he owes me."
The two men laughted heartily.
"In that case," the fat manager sniggered, "you'll have to go a long way, brother! All the way to the King of the Nether World! Don't you know that old Mao is dead?"
Tao Gan swore volubly. He sat down in a rickety bamboo chair.
"That would be my cursed luck!" he said angrily. "Just when I need the money! What happened to the bastard?"
"It's all over the town," the man with the squint remarked. "He was found in the Buddhist Temple with a hole in his head you could put your fist in!"
"Who did it?" asked Tao Gan. "I might approach that fellow and blackmail him into paying me the money, with a bit extra for good luck!"
The fat man nudged his neighbor. Both started laughing again.
"What's the joke now?" Tao Gan asked sourly.
"The joke is, my friend," the manager explained, "that Mao Loo is probably mixed up in that murder. Now you travel to Three Oaks Island, brother Tao, and blackmail the fellow!"
The man with the squint bellowed with laughter.
"You have him again, boss!" he exclaimed, guffawing.
"What nonsense!' Tao Gan exclaimed. "Mao Loo is the carpenter's own cousin!"
The fat man spat on the floor.
"Listen, brother Tao," he said, "listen carefully; then perhaps even you will understand! Three days ago Mao Yuan comes in here late in the afternoon. He has just finished a job and there's money in his sleeve. He finds a good crowd here; the fellow has luck, he wins a nice bit of money. Then who should come in but his cousin. Now Mao Yuan hasn't been too keen on that cousin of his lately, but what with the wine in his belly and the money in his sleeve he greets him like a long-lost brother. They drink four jars of the best together; then Mao Loo invites his cousin to have a meal with him somewhere outside. And that is the last we see of them. Mind you now, I don't say anything against Mao Loo. I just state the facts!"
Tao Gan nodded comprehendingly.
"That's bad luck!" he said ruefully. "Well, I'd better be on my way."
Just as he was rising the door opened and a powerfully built man clad in a ragged monk's robe came in. Tao Gan hurriedly sat down again.
"Ha, there's the monk!" the manager exclaimed.
The man thus addressed sat down with a grunt. The manager pushed a teacup toward him. The monk spat on the floor.
"Have you nothing better to serve than that filthy stuff?" he asked gruffly.
The fat man lifted his right hand, making a circle with the thumb and forefinger.
The monk shook his head.
"Nothing doing!" he said disgustedly. "Wait till I have beaten that mealy youth to pulp; then I'll show you some real money!"
The manager shrugged his shoulders. He said indifferently:
"Then it'll have to be tea, monk!"
"I think I have met you once," Tao Gan said, joining the conversation. "Didn't I see you in front of the Buddhist Temple?"
The newcomer shot him a suspicious look.
"Who's the scarecrow?" he asked the manager.
"Oh, that's Brother Tao," the manager replied. "A good fellow, but not too bright. What did you do in the temple? Do you really think of joining the clergy now, monk?"
The man with the squint laughed loudly. The monk barked at him: "Stop your stupid sniggering!" As the manager gave him a sour look he went on in a calmer voice: "Well, I am in a foul temper and I don't care who knows it. The day before yesterday I see that fellow Mao Loo behind… where was it now? Yes, it was somewhere near the fish market. You could see the coppers weighing in his sleeves! 'Where's the Treasure Tree, brother?' I ask, friendly like. 'There's plenty more where that came from!' says he. 'You just go and have a look at the Buddhist Temple!' Well, I went there."
The monk gulped the tea down. Making a face, he continued:
"And what do you think I find there? An old dodderer who has even less than me, and a coffin!"
The fat manager burst out laughing. The monk's eyes glittered with rage, but he didn't dare to curse him.
"Well, well," the manager said, "you better go then with Brother Tao here to Three Oaks Island! He also wants to talk with Mao Loo!"
"So he got you too, hey?" the monk asked a little more cheerfully.
Tao Gan grunted his assent.
"I am all for milking that young fellow you were talking about," he said dryly. "That should be a little easier than tackling Mao Loo!"
"That's what you think, brother!" the monk said disgustedly. "I meet that youngster in the deep of night, running as if the King of Hell was on his heels. I grab him by his neck and ask him where he's running to. He says: 'Leave me alone!' I see that he's a wealthy youngster, the weak-kneed type that eats with silver chopsticks. I know the fellow has done something he shouldn't. So I pat him on the head, sling him over my shoulder and carry him all the way to my place."
The monk cleared his throat noisily and spat in the corner. He groped for the teapot, then thought better of it and went on:
"Imagine the fellow refusing to tell me a tiling! And that after all the trouble I took for him! Now here I am with a fine blackmail case in the hollow of my hand, and the fellow won't talk! And not for lack of persuasion either!" he added with a cruel grin.
Tao Gan got up.
"Well," he said with a resigned sigh, "that's how it always is with us people, monk! Nothing but bad luck! If I were a strong fellow like you I could make thirty silver pieces tonight. Anyway, good luck!"
He went to the door.
"Hey!" the monk shouted, "why the hurry? Thirty silver pieces did you say?"
"None of your business!" Tao Gan snapped and opened the door.
The monk jumped up and dragged him back by his collar.
"Keep your hands off, monk!" the manager said sharply. And to Tao Gan: "Why be unreasonable, Brother Tao? If you can't do the job yourself, why don't you let the monk here in on it and pocket a commission?"
"Of course, I had thought of that!" Tao Gan said testily. "But you know I am new here and I didn't quite catch the name of the place where they gather. Since they said they needed a hefty fellow who could fight I didn't inquire further."
"The stupid son of a dog!" the monk exclaimed. "Thirty silver pieces! Think, bastard!"
Tao Gan knitted his eyebrows. Then he shrugged. "It's no use. I only remember something about a carp or so!"
"That's the Inn of the Red Carp!" the manager and the monk exclaimed at the same time.
"There you have it!" Tao Gan said. "But I don't know where it is."