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"Your Honor is very considerate," Mrs. Kuo said, rising.

As she stood waiting to be dismissed the judge felt that he would like to prolong this conversation. Annoyed with himself he said rather curtly:

"Thank you for your prompt report, Mrs. Kuo. You can go now."

She bowed and left.

Judge Dee started pacing the floor, his hands on his back. His office seemed lonelier and colder than ever. He reflected that his wives would probably have reached the first post station by now and wondered whether their quarters there would be comfortable.

The clerk brought his evening meal, and he ate quickly. Then he rose and sipped his tea, standing near the brazier.

The door opened and Ma Joong came in, looking rather crest­fallen.

"Yeh Tai went out after the noon meal, Your Honor," he said, "and he hasn't come back for dinner. A servant told me that he often eats out together with some other gamblers, and doesn't come home till very late. Chiao Tai is still watching the house."

"What a pity," Judge Dee said regretfully, "I had hoped to get that girl out of there quickly. Well, there is no use continuing the watch tonight. Tomorrow Yeh Tai will certainly come to the morning session together with Yeh Pin, and then we'll nab him."

When Ma Joong had left, the judge sat down at his desk. He took up the official documents again, and tried to resume his read­ing. But he found he could not concentrate. He was very annoyed that Yeh Tai had not been at home. He told himself that this irritation was quite unreasonable, why should the scoundrel have chosen this particular night to visit his secret haunt?

Yet it was awkward not to be able to take action now that the end of the case was in sight. Perhaps the fellow was on his way there this very moment, after having eaten his dinner in a res­taurant. That black hood could be easily recognized in a crowd. . . . Suddenly the judge sat erect. Where had he seen such a hood last? Wasn't it in a crowd near the Temple of the City God?

Judge Dee rose abruptly.

He went to the large cupboard against the back wall and rum­maged through the assortment of old clothes inside. He found a shabby, patched fur coat that seemed still good enough to keep him warm. When he had put it on he exchanged his fur bonnet for a thick scarf, which he wound tightly around his head and the lower part of his face. Then he took out the portable medicine chest that he kept in his office, and slung it over his shoulder. Looking in the mirror he decided that he could pass for an itin­erant physician. He left the tribunal by the western side door.

Small snowflakes were fluttering down; the judge thought that they would soon cease. He sauntered in the direction of the Temple of the City God, scrutinizing the people who hurried past him, huddled in their furs. But he saw only fur caps, and here and there a Tartar turban.

When he had aimlessly walked about for some time, the sky cleared. He reflected that it was one to a thousand that he would meet Yeh Tai. At the same time he realized with dismay that he had not really expected to meet him, it was more that he had wanted a change. Anything was better than that cold, lonely office of his. . . . The judge was now thoroughly disgusted with him­self. He stood still and looked around. He found himself in a narrow, dark street. There were no people about. He walked ahead quickly. He would go back to his office, and do some work.

Suddenly he heard a whimpering sound in the darkness somewhere on his left. Halting in his steps he discovered a small child huddled up in a corner of an empty porch. He stooped and saw it was a girl of about five or six years who was sitting there crying desperately.

"What is wrong with you, little girl?" Judge Dee asked kindly.

"I have lost the way, and I can't go home!" the girl cried out frantically.

"I know exactly where you live, and I'll take you there!" the judge said reassuringly. He put his medicine chest down, sat on it and took the girl in his arms. Noticing that her tiny body was shivering in the thin padded house robe, he loosened his fur coat and put her inside against his body. Soon the girl stopped crying. "You must first warm yourself," Judge Dee said.

"And then you'll take me home," the girl said with satisfaction.

"Yes," Judge Dee replied. "What does your mother call you, again?"

"Mei-lan," the girl said reproachfully. "Don't you know that?"

"Of course!" the judge said. "I know your name: Wang Mei-lan."

"Now you are teasing!" the girl pouted. "You know I am called Loo Mei-lan."

"Oh yes," the judge said, "your father has that shop there. ..."

"You are just pretending!" the girl said, disappointed. "Father is dead, and Mother looks after the cotton shop. I think you really know very little."

"I am a doctor, I am always very busy," Judge Dee said de­fensively. "Now tell me, what side of the Temple of the City God do you pass when you go with your mother to the market?"

"The side where the two stone lions are," the girl answered immediately. "Which one do you like the best?"

"The one with the ball under his paw," the judge said, hoping that this time he was right.

"I, too!" the girl said happily. The judge rose. He slung the medicine chest over his shoulder with one hand and set off in the direction of the temple, carrying the girl in his arms.

"I wish mother would show me that kitten," the girl said wist­fully.

"What kitten?" Judge Dee asked absent-mindedly.

"The kitten the man with the nice voice was talking to, the other night when he came to see Mother," the girl said impatiently. "Don't you know him?"

"No," Judge Dee said. To keep her happy he added: "Who is that man?"

"I don't know," she said. "I thought you would know him. He comes sometimes late at night, and I hear him talking to a kitten. But when I asked Mother about it she was angry and said I had been dreaming. But that isn't true."

Judge Dee sighed. Probably that widow Loo had a secret lover.

They were now in front of the temple. The judge asked a shop­keeper where Mrs. Loo's cotton shop was, and the man gave him a few directions. Walking on, Judge Dee asked the girclass="underline"

"Why did you run out of the house so late?"

"I had a bad dream," she answered, "and I woke up in such a fright. Then I ran out to look for Mother."

"Why didn't you call the maid?" the judge asked.

"Mother sent her away after Father had died," the girl said, "so there was nobody tonight!"

Judge Dee halted before a door marked "Loo's Cotton Shop"; it was situated in a quiet middle-class street. He knocked, and very soon the door was pulled open. A small, rather thin woman appeared. Lifting her lantern she looked the judge up and down, then asked angrily:

"What have you been doing with my daughter?"

"She had run out and gotten lost," Judge Dee said calmly. "You should look after her better, she may have caught a bad cold."

The woman shot him a venomous look. He saw that she was about thirty years old, and quite good-looking. But the judge did not like the wild gleam in her eyes, and her thin, cruel mouth.

"Mind your own business, you quack!" she snapped. "You won't squeeze any coppers out of me."

Pulling the child inside she slammed the door shut.

"Pleasant woman," Judge Dee muttered. He shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the main street.

When he was elbowing his way through the crowd in front of a large noodle shop, he bumped into two tall fellows who seemed in a great hurry. The first one angrily gripped Judge Dee's shoulder, cursing roundly. But suddenly he let drop his hand, exclaiming:

"August Heaven! It's our judge!"

Looking with a smile at the astonished faces of Ma Joong and Chiao Tai, Judge Dee said a little self-consciously: