The Red Pavilion

Two cooks, their muscular torsos bare, were sourly watching the Crab, who was standing in front of the largest stove, a flat frying pan in his hand. The Shrimp and four scullery boys were looking on from a safe distance. The giant threw a big flat-fish high up in the air, then neatly caught it on its other side, right in the centre of the pan.

Looking with his bulging eyes at the two cooks, he said gravely:

'Now you have seen how it ought to be done. It's a flip, from the wrist. Now you do it, Shrimp!'

The small hunchback, looking furious, stepped forward and took the pan over from the Crab. He threw the fish up. It fell back in the pan, half of it lying over the rim.

'Twisted again!' the Crab said reproachfully. 'You twist because you use your elbow. It should be a flip from the wrist' Noticing Ma Joong, he motioned him with his head to the open kitchen door. He continued to the Shrimp: 'Go on, try it again!' and pulled Ma Joong outside.

When they were standing in a corner of the neglected side garden, he whispered hoarsely:

'Me and the Shrimp had business hereabouts, matter of a fellow who cheated at the tables. Would you like to see that curio-dealer, Mr Ma?'

'Not on your life! Seen his ugly mug already this morning. That'll last me for a couple of years!'

'Now, let's suppose, just for the sake of argument,' the Crab went on stolidly,' that your boss wanted to see him. Then he'd have to be quick, for Wen is leaving town tonight, I heard. For the capital. To buy antiques, he says. I won't guarantee it's true. Take it as an informal, voluntary statement.'

'Thanks for the tip! I don't mind telling you now that we aren't through with that old goat. Not by a long way!'

'That's what I thought,' the Crab said dryly. ' Well, I'll go back to the kitchen. The Shrimp needs that practice. Badly. Goodbye.'

Ma Joong made his way through the shrubbery to the veranda of the Red Pavilion. When he saw that Judge Dee wasn't there, he sat down in the large armchair, put his feet up on the balustrade, and contentedly closed his eyes. He fondly tried to visualize Silver Fairy's many charms.

In the meantime Judge Dee had been interrogating the innkeeper on the history of the Red Pavilion.

The startled man scratched his head.

'As far as I know, sir,' he replied slowly, 'the Red Pavilion is now exactly as it was fifteen years ago, when I bought this hostel. But if Your Honour wishes any changes made, I shall of course . . .'

'Isn't there somebody who was here before that time?' the judge interrupted him. 'Say about thirty years ago?'

'Only the old father of the present doorkeeper, I think, sir. His son took over from him ten years ago because . . .'

'Take me to him,' Judge Dee snapped.

Muttering confused apologies the manager led him through the noisy servant quarters to a small yard. A frail old man with a ragged beard was sunning himself there, seated on a wooden box. Blinking at Judge Dee's shimmering robe of green brocade, he made to rise, but the judge said quickly:

'Remain seated, a person of your venerable age should not be bothered. I only want to know something about the history of the Red Pavilion, I am interested in old houses, you see. Do you remember when the bedstead in the Red Room was moved to the wall opposite?'

The greybeard tugged at his thin moustache. Shaking his head he answered:

'That bedstead was never moved, sir, no. At least, not in my time, that is. It was standing against the south wall, on your left when you enter. That's its proper place, and there it has been, always. I wouldn't speak for the last ten years, though. They may have changed it recently, they are always changing things, nowadays.'

'No, it's still there,' the judge reassured him. ' I am staying in those apartments now.'

'Fine rooms,' the old man mumbled, 'the best we have. And the wistaria ought to be in bloom now. I planted it myself, must be twenty-five years ago, about. Did a bit of gardening, too, in those days. Took the wistaria from the kiosk in the park, I did. They were breaking down the kiosk; a pity, it was fine old carpenter's work. They put up one of your modern buildings there, two stories, the higher the better! Transplanted trees there too. Spoiled the view from the veranda. You could watch beautiful sunsets from there, sir! See the pagoda of the Taoist temple against the evening sky. And those tall trees made the Red Pavilion damp, too, I'd say.'

'There's a thick shrubbery directly in front of the veranda,' Judge Dee remarked. 'Did you plant that too?'

'Never, sir! There oughtn't to be shrubbery close to a veranda, sir. If it isn't kept clean, it'll attract snakes and other vermin. The park guards planted those, the silly fools! I caught a couple of scorpions there; the guards are supposed to keep the place tidy, supposed, I say! I prefer an open, sunny place, sir, especially since I got this rheumatism. It came sudden-like, I said to my son, I said . . .'

'I am glad to see,' the judge interrupted hurriedly, 'that you are remarkably hale and hearty, for your age. And your son is looking after you well, I hear. Well, thanks very much!'

He walked back to the pavilion.

When he stepped out on the veranda Ma Joong hurriedly jumped up, and reported to him what the Crab had said about Wen's travelling plans.

'Of course Wen can't leave,' the judge said curtly. 'He is guilty of false testimony. Find out where he lives, we'll pay him a visit this afternoon. Now, go first to Kia's hostel, and tell the youngster that I want to see him, here and now. Then you can go and have your noon-rice. But see to it that you are back here in an hour or so. There's much to do.'

Judge Dee sat down near the balustrade. Slowly caressing his long sidewhiskers, he tried to reason out how the old gatekeeper's statement could be made to fit Tao Pan-te's story. The arrival of the young poet roused him from these cogitations.

Kia Yu-po looked very nervous; he made several bows in quick succession in front of the judge.

'Sit down, sit down!' Judge Dee said, irritated. When Kia had taken the bamboo chair, the judge sourly studied his dejected face. After a while he began suddenly:

'You don't look like a habitual gambler, Mr Kia. What made you try your luck at the gaming table? And with disastrous result too, I am told.'

The young poet looked embarrassed. After some hesitation he replied:

'I am really a quite worthless person, Your Honour! Except for a certain facility in making poetry, I have nothing to commend myself. I am much given to moods, always let myself drift along with the circumstances of the moment. As soon as I had entered that accursed gambling hall, the spirit of the place took hold of me, I ... I simply couldn't stop! I can't help it, sir, it's just the way I am. . . .'

'Yet you are planning to pass the State examinations for entering upon an official career?'

'I had my name listed for the examinations only because two of my friends did, sir, I let myself be carried away by their enthusiasm! I know full well that I am not good enough for becoming an official; my only ambition is to live quietly somewhere up-country, read and write a little, and . . .' He paused, looked down at his restless hands, then went on unhappily: 'I feel terribly embarrassed towards Mr Feng, sir, he has such great expectations of me! He has been very kind to me, even wants me to marry his daughter ... I feel all that kindness as ... as a burden, sir!'

Judge Dee reflected that this young man was either utterly sincere or a consummate actor. He asked evenly:

'Why did you lie this morning in court?'

The youngster's face turned red. He stuttered:

'What . . . what does Your Honour mean? I . . .'

'I mean that you didn't enter the dressing-room by mistake, you went there expressly to inquire after Autumn Moon. Thereafter you were seen entering the path that leads to her private pavilion. Speak up, were you in love with her?'