The Red Pavilion

When Feng had left, Judge Dee asked the manager: ' Did you or anyone else see her enter the hostel?'

'No, Your Honour. But there's a short-cut from her pavilion on the plot next to ours, leading to the veranda here.'

The judge went to the bedstead and looked up at the canopy. It was higher than usual. He tapped the wooden panels of the back wall, but found no hollow sound. He turned to the manager, who couldn't keep his eyes off the white corpse, and snapped:

'Don't stand there and goggle! Speak up, is there any secret peephole or other queer device in this bedstead? '

'Certainly not, sir! ' He looked again at the dead woman, then stammered: 'First the Academician, now the Queen Flower, I ... I can't understand what. . .'

'Neither can I!' the judge cut him short. 'What is on the other side of this room?'

'Nothing, Your Honour! That's to say, there's no other room. Only the outer wall, and our side garden.'

'Did queer things ever happen in this room before? Speak the truth!'

'Never, Your Excellency!' the manager wailed. 'I have been in charge here more than fifteen years, hundreds of guests have stayed here and I never heard any complaints. I don't know how . . .'

'Fetch me your register!'

The manager scurried away. Feng's men came in with a stretcher. They rolled the dead woman in a blanket and carried her away.

In the meantime the judge had searched the sleeves of the violet robe. He found nothing but the usual brocade folder with comb and tooth-pick, a package of Autumn Moon's visiting cards, and two handkerchiefs. Then the manager returned with a ledger under his arm. 'Put it on the table!' Judge Dee barked at him.

Left alone with Ma Joong, the judge went over to the table and sat down with a tired sigh.

His tall lieutenant took the tea-pot from its basket and poured out a cup for the judge. Pointing at the red smear on the rim of the other cup, he remarked casually:

'She had a cup of tea before she died. And alone, for the second cup I just filled was quite dry.'

The judge set the full cup down abruptly.

'Pour this tea back into the pot,' he said curtly. 'Tell the manager to get you a sick cat or dog, and let it drink it.'

After Ma Joong had gone, Judge Dee pulled the ledger towards him and began to leaf through it.

Sooner than he had expected Ma Joong came back. He shook his head.

'The tea was all right, sir.'

'That's bad! I thought that someone had perhaps accompanied her here, and put poison in the tea before he left her. And that she had drunk it after she had locked herself in. That was the only rational explanation of her death.'

He leaned back in his chair, disconsolately tugging at his beard.

'But what about the bruises on her throat, Your Honour?'

'Those were only superficial, and there were no nail marks on the skin, just blue spots. They might have been caused by some poison unknown to me, but certainly not by someone trying to throttle her.'

Ma Joong worriedly shook his large head. He asked uneasily:

'What could have happened to her, sir?'

'We have those long thin scratches on her arms. Of undetermined origin, just like those found on the arms of the Academician. His death and that of his mistress, both in this same Red Room, must be connected in some way or other. Strange affair! I don't like it at all, Ma Joong.' He thought for a while, caressing his sidewhiskers. Then he sat up straight and resumed: 'While you were away I carefully studied the entries here in this ledger. In the past two months about thirty people have been staying in the Red Pavilion for shorter or longer periods. Now most of the entries have in the margin a woman's name, and an additional sum of money, marked down in red ink. Do you know what that means?'

'That's simple! It means that those guests slept here with a professional girl. The amount marked indicates the commission those women had to pay to the hostel's management.'

'I see. Well, the Academician slept here on his first night, the 19th that is, with a girl called Peony. On the two following nights with Jade Flower, and on those of the 22nd and '23rd with a woman called Carnation. He died on the night of the 25th.'

'That one wasted night got him!' Ma Joong said with a bleak smile.

The judge hadn't heard the remark. He went on pensively:

'Curious that Autumn Moon's name doesn't appear here.'

'There's always the afternoon! Some men take their tea in a rather elaborate fashion!'

Judge Dee closed the ledger. He let his gaze wander about the room. Then he got up and walked over to the window. After he had felt the thick iron bars and checked the solid wooden frame, he remarked:

'There's nothing wrong with this window, no human being could have entered the room through it. And we can rule out any other hocus-pocus with this window too, for she was lying more than ten feet away from it; she fell backwards facing the door, not the window. Her head was turned slightly to the left, towards the bedstead.' He shook his head dejectedly and resumed : 'You had better go now and have a good night's rest, Ma Joong. I want you to go to the landing stage tomorrow morning at dawn. Try to locate the captain of Feng Dai's junk, and let him tell you all about the collision of the two boats. Make also discreet inquiries about the meeting of the Academician and the curio-dealer that, according to your two pumpkin-raising friends, took place there. I'll examine that bedstead again, then go to sleep too. Tomorrow we'll have a busy day.'

'You aren't going to sleep here in this room, sir?' Ma Joong asked, aghast.

'Of course I will!' the judge said peevishly. 'That'll give me a chance to verify whether there's really something wrong here. You can go now and find yourself a lodging. Good night!'

Ma Joong thought a moment of protesting, but when he saw Judge Dee's determined expression he realized that it would be useless. He bowed and took his leave.

The judge stood himself in front of the bedstead, his hands clasped behind his back. He saw that the thin silk cover of the bedmat showed some creases. Feeling them with his forefinger, he found they were slightly damp. He stooped and smelled the pillow. There was the musk scent he had noticed in the courtesan's hair when she was sitting next to him during the dinner.

It was easy to reconstruct the first phase. She had entered the Red Pavilion by the veranda, probably after a brief visit to her own pavilion. She might have intended to wait for him in the sitting-room, but when she found that the key was left in the lock of the Red Room, she thought the meeting could be more effectively staged inside there. She had a cup of tea, then she took off her upper robe, folded it and laid it on the chair. After she had stripped naked, she placed her undergarment on the bedstead, next to the pillow. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took off her shoes and put them neatly on the floor. Finally she laid herself down, waiting till she would hear him knock. She must have lain there for quite some time, her perspiring back had creased the silk cover. He couldn't even guess at what happened next. Something must have occurred that made her leave the bed, and very calmly. For if she had jumped off in a hurry, the pillow and the cover would have been disturbed. As soon as she was standing in front of the bedstead, a terrible thing happened. He suddenly shivered when he recalled the expression of utter horror on the woman's contorted face.

He pushed the pillow aside and drew the silk cover away. Underneath was nothing but the bedmat of closely woven, soft reed, and under it solid wooden boards. He went to the table and took the candle. He found that, by standing on the bed, he could just reach the canopy. He tapped it with his knuckles but heard no hollow sound. Again he tapped the back wall of the bedstead, scowling at the set of small erotic pictures framed among the panelling. Then he pushed his cap back and pulled a hairpin from his top-knot. He pried with it among the grooves among the panels, without finding any deep fissure indicating a secret opening.