The Red Pavilion

A short walk brought them to the waterside, lined by willow trees. A small, white-plastered house with a thatched roof stood behind a rustic bamboo fence. The Crab took Ma Joong round the house to the well-kept garden, covered with pumpkin plants, and made him sit down on the wooden bench under the eaves. From there one had a good view of the broad expanse of water beyond the willow trees. Surveying the peaceful surroundings, Ma Joong's eye fell on a high bamboo rack. Six pumpkins were displayed on it, each at a different height above the ground.

'What is that for?' he asked curiously.

The Crab turned to the Shrimp, who was coming round the house, still looking sour. He snapped at him:

'Number three!'

Quick as lightning the right hand of the small hunchback shot out. There was a clanking of iron, then the ball smashed the third pumpkin on the rack.

The Crab rose ponderously, picked the half-crushed pumpkin up and laid it on the palm of his large hand. The Shrimp stepped up to him eagerly. Silently the pair examined the pumpkin. The Crab shook his head and threw it away. He said with a reproachful look:

'Just as I feared! Twisted again!'

The small man grew red in the face. He asked indignantly:

'Do you call half an inch out of centre a twist?'

'It isn't a bad twist,' the Crab conceded. 'But still a twist. You use your elbow. It must be a flip. From the wrist.'

The Shrimp sniffed. After a casual look at the river, he said: 'My son won't be in for some time. I'll fetch a drink.'

He went into the house, and the Crab and Ma Joong walked back to the porch. As Ma Joong resumed his seat, he exclaimed : 'So, you use them for target practice!'

'What else did you think we are growing pumpkins for? Every other day I set up six for him, different size, different position.' He looked over his shoulder to make sure that the Shrimp was out of earshot, then whispered gruffly at Ma Joong's ear: 'He is good. Very good. But if I say so he'll get slack. Especially on his short-chain work. I am responsible for him. He is my friend, you see.'

Ma Joong nodded. After a while, he asked:

'What does his son do?'

'Nothing much, as far as I know,' the Crab replied slowly. 'He's dead, you see. Fine, strapping lad, the Shrimp's son was. The Shrimp was proud of him, proud as the devil. Well, four years ago, the boy went out to fish, with the Shrimp's wife. Collided with a war-junk midstream, and they drowned. Both of them. Then the Shrimp would begin to blubber every time you mentioned his son. You can't work with a man like that, can you? I got fed up, and I said: 'Shrimp, your son isn't dead. Only you don't see him so often nowadays, because he's out on the river, mostly.' The Shrimp took that. I didn't say anything about his wife, mind you, because there's a limit to what the Shrimp takes from me. She had an awfully sharp tongue, anyway.' The Crab heaved a sigh. He scratched his head and went on: 'Then I said to the Shrimp: 'Let's ask for the night-shift, that'll give us a chance to meet your son when he comes back, in the afternoon.' And the Shrimp took that too.' Shrugging his broad shoulders, the Crab concluded: 'The boy won't come back no more, of course, but it gives the Shrimp something to look forward to, so to speak. And I can talk to him about his son now and then, without him beginning to sniffle.'

The Shrimp came outside with a large wine jar and three earthenware cups. He put them on the brightly scoured table-top, then sat down also. They drank a toast to the successful fight. Ma Joong smacked his lips and let the Crab refill his cup. Then he asked:

'Did you know those bastards?'

'Two. They belong to a band of rogues from over the river. Fortnight ago they tried to hold up one of Feng's messengers. I and a colleague of mine were escorting him, and we killed three. The two who escaped then we got now.'

'Who is that fellow Lee the dying man blabbed about?' Ma Joong asked again.

'How many people of the surname Lee do we have on the island?' the Crab asked the Shrimp.

'Couple of hundred.'

'You heard him,' the Crab said, fixing Ma Joong with his protruding eyes. 'Couple of hundred.'

'Doesn't get us very far,' Ma Joong observed.

'Didn't get them very far either,' the Crab said dryly. And, to the Shrimp: 'The river looks good at dusk. Pity we aren't here more often, at night.'

'It's peaceful!' the Shrimp said contentedly.

'Not always, though!' Ma Joong remarked as he got up. 'Well, I suppose you fellows'll look into the affair we had out there. I must go back to my boss and report that I know where to find Miss Ling.'

'If you find her,' the Crab said. 'When we passed by there before dawn this morning, I saw a light there.'

'She being blind, a light means visitors,' the Shrimp added.

Ma Joong thanked them for their hospitality, then walked back through the gathering dusk. He paused a moment in front of Miss Ling's hovel. There was no light; it seemed completely deserted. He pulled the door open and cast a quick look at the semi-dark room that contained only a bamboo couch. No one was there.

XVI

Back in the Red Pavilion Ma Joong found Judge Dee standing at the balustrade of the veranda, watching the park guards who were lighting the coloured lampions among the trees. He told the judge what had happened, and concluded:

'The net result is that I know exactly where Miss Ling lives. But she isn't there, so we needn't go. At least not now. Probably her visitors took her out somewhere.'

'But she is very ill!' Judge Dee exclaimed. 'I don't like the idea of her having visitors, I thought nobody knew about her except your two friends and that girl Silver Fairy.' He tugged worriedly at his moustache. 'Are you sure that the Crab and the Shrimp were the intended victims of that murderous attack, and not you?'

'Of course it was they, Your Honour! How could the bastards have known I would be there? They were lying in ambush for the Crab to avenge three of their gang, killed by him during a hold-up two weeks ago. They didn't know about the Shrimp!'

'If that were true, the hooligans must have been aware of the fact that your two friends have the habit of sleeping during the day and not returning home until dawn. If you hadn't happened to ask them to take you to Miss Ling's hovel, the attackers would have been waiting there the entire evening and night!'

Ma Joong shrugged his shoulders.

'Perhaps they were prepared for that!'

Judge Dee thought for a while, staring at the park restaurant opposite, where again a feast seemed to be in full swing. He turned round and remarked with a sigh:

'I spoke rashly indeed when I said yesterday that I would spend only one more day on Magistrate Lo's business! Well, I won't need you tonight, Ma Joong. You'd better go now and have your dinner, then amuse yourself a bit. Tomorrow morning we'll meet here again after breakfast.'

After Ma Joong had taken his leave, Judge Dee started to pace the veranda, his hands clasped behind his back. He felt restless, he didn't relish the idea of having his dinner alone in his room. He went inside and changed into a gown of plain blue cotton. Putting a small black skull-cap on his head, he left the Hostel of Eternal Bliss by the main gate.

Passing the front door of the inn where Kia Yu-po was staying, he halted in his steps. He might invite the young poet to share the evening meal with him and ask him more about Wen's scheme against warden Feng. Why would the Academician have given up that plot so suddenly? Had he perhaps decided that forcing Miss Feng to marry him was the easier way to get Feng's wealth into his hands, and without the need of letting the curio-dealer share it?

He went inside. But the manager informed him that the poet had left after the noon-meal, and not come back. 'And the other day I let him borrow a silver piece from me!' he added sadly.