"As to the wench, well, all right—provided of course she's the pick of the top shelf. But as to go entirely without wine ..."
"There you are." Master Lan laughed. "But it doesn't matter. You two are boxers of the ninth grade, there is no need to enter the extra grade. In your profession you'll never have to fight an opponent who has reached that highest level."
"Why not?" Ma Joong asked.
"That's simple!" the champion answered. "For going through all grades from the first up to the ninth, a strong body and perseverance suffice. But for the extra grade strength and skill are of secondary importance. Only men of a completely serene mind can reach it, and that quality naturally precludes becoming a criminal."
Ma Joong poked Chiao Tai in his ribs.
"That being so," he said cheerfully, "we'd better go along as per usual, brother. Now get dressed, brother Lan, we want you to take us to the market."
While Lan was putting on his clothes he remarked:
"Now that judge of yours, I think he could make the extra grade if he wanted to. He impresses me as a man of an extraordinarily strong personality."
"That he has!" Ma Joong said. "Besides, he is a top-class sword fighter, and I once saw him hit someone so hard that it made my mouth water! He eats and drinks very moderately, and his wives we can just call routine, I suppose. Yet with him there's also a rub. You don't seriously believe that he would ever consent to shaving off that beard and whiskers, do you?"
Laughing, the three friends walked to the front door.
They sauntered along in a southern direction, and soon reached the high ornamental gate of the covered market. A dense crowd was milling around in the narrow passages, but they made way as soon as they had seen Lan Tao-kuei, for the boxer was well known in Pei-chow.
"This bazaar," Lan said, "dates from the old days when Pei-chow was the main supply center of the Tartar tribes. They say that the passages that form this rabbit warren, if put in one line, would be longer than five miles. What exactly are you looking for?"
"Our orders are," Ma Joong replied, "to find a clue to the whereabouts of Miss Liao Lien-fang, the girl who disappeared here the other day."
"It happened while she was looking at a dancing bear, I remember," the boxer said. "Come along, I know where the Tartars run that show."
He took them by a short cut behind the shops to a broader passage.
"Here you are," he said. "I see no Tartars about just now, but this is the place."
Ma Joong looked at the shabby stalls on the left and right, where the vendors were praising their wares in raucous voices. He remarked:
"Old Hoong and Tao Gan questioned all those fellows here already, and they know their job. No use asking them again. I wonder, though, what the girl came here for. You'd expect her to keep to the northern part of the market, where the better shops are, selling silk and brocade."
"What did her duenna say about that?" the boxer asked.
"She said they lost their way," Chiao Tai replied, "and when they saw the performing bear they decided to stay a while and look."
"Two streets farther south," Lan remarked, "there's the brothel quarter. Couldn't the people from there have something to do with it?"
Ma Joong shook his head.
"I investigated those brothels myself," he said, "and I found nothing. At least nothing that had a bearing on the case!" he added with a grin.
He heard a queer jabbering behind him. He turned around and saw a thin boy of about sixteen, clad in rags. His face was twitching horribly as he uttered the strange sounds. Ma Joong put his hand in his sleeve to give him a copper, but the boy had already pushed past him and was tugging frantically at Master Lan's sleeve.
The boxer smiled and placed his large hand on the boy's tousled head. He calmed down at once and looked up ecstatically at the towering figure.
"You certainly have queer friends!" Chiao Tai said amazed.
"He isn't queerer than most people you see around!" Lan said calmly. "He is the abandoned child of a Chinese soldier and a Tartar prostitute. I once found him in the street; a drunken fellow had kicked him and broken a few ribs. I set them, and kept the boy with me for some time. He is dumb, but he can hear a little and if you talk very slowly he understands. He is clever enough. I taught him a few useful tricks, and now the man who dares to attack him must be very drunk indeed! There's nothing I hate more than to see weak persons maltreated. I wanted to keep the young fellow as errand boy, but at times his mind wanders and he likes it better here in the market. He comes regularly to my place for a bowl of rice and a chat."
The boy started to jabber again. Lan listened carefully, then he said:
"He wants to know what I am doing here. I'd better ask him about that vanished girl. The fellow has very sharp eyes, there's little happening here he doesn't know about."
He told the boy slowly about the dancing bear and the girl, illustrating his talk with gestures. The boy listened tensely, eagerly watching the boxer's lips. Sweat started to pearl on his misshapen brow. When Lan had finished, the boy became very excited. He stuck his hand in Lan's sleeve and brought out the pieces of the Seven Board. Squatting he began to arrange them on the street stones.
"I taught him that," the boxer said with a smile. "It often helps him to indicate what he wants. Let's see, what he is doing now?"
The three friends stooped and looked at the figure the boy was making.
"That's evidently a Tartar," Lan remarked. "That thing on his head is the black hood worn by the Tartars from the plain. What did that fellow do, my friend?"
The dumb boy sadly shook his head. Then he grabbed Lan's sleeve, and made some hoarse sounds.
"He means that it is too difficult for him to explain," the boxer said. "He wants me to accompany him to the old crone, a beggar woman who more or less looks after him. They live in a hole in the ground under a shop. You two better wait here. It is rather dirty and smelly there, but it's warm, and that's what counts."
Lan left with the boy. Ma Joong and Chiao Tai started to examine the Tartar daggers on display in a street stall near by.
The boxer came back alone. He said with a pleased face:
"I think I've got something for you. Come over here." He dragged the two men into the corner behind the stall, then resumed in a low voice: "The crone said that she and the boy were among the crowd watching the performing bear. They saw a well-dressed girl with an elderly lady, and tried to get to them because they looked like a good prospect for begging a few coppers. But just when the old crone was going to accost the pair, a middle-aged lady who had been standing behind the girl whispered something to her. The girl quickly looked at her duenna, and when she saw that she was absorbed in the show, she slipped away with the other woman. The boy crept under the legs of the men standing there and went after them to get his coppers. But then a huge fellow wearing a black Tartar hood roughly pushed him away, and followed the pair. The boy thought he had better give up his attempt at earning a few coppers, because the hooded fellow looked very fierce indeed. Don't you think that is rather interesting?"
"It certainly is!" Ma Joong exclaimed. "Could the crone or the boy describe the woman and the Tartar?"
"Unfortunately not," the boxer replied. "I asked them, of course, the same question. The woman had covered the lower part of her face with her neckcloth, and the man had pulled the long ear flaps of his hood over his mouth."
"We'll have to report this at once," Chiao Tai said. "It's the first real clue we have to what happened to that girl."
"I'll take you to the exit by a short cut," Master Lan said.
He took them into a narrow, semiobscure passage where a dense crowd was milling around. Suddenly they heard the piercing scream of a woman, followed by the sound of breaking furniture. The people around them melted away; the next moment the three friends were alone in the passage.