The Red Pavilion

The other smiled slyly.

'The guests here like ah . . . privacy, sir!' He chuckled, then went on quickly: 'The lock was broken the other day, but it was replaced by one of the same type that can be opened from outside and inside.'

The bedroom proved to be luxuriously furnished also. The enormous canopied bedstead on the left, the table and chairs in front of it, and the wash-stand and dressing-table in the opposite corner were all made of carved wood, lacquered a bright red. The curtains of the bedstead were of heavy red brocade, and a thick red carpet covered the floor. When the clerk had opened the shutters of the single window in the back wall, the judge saw through the heavy iron bars again the park at the back of the hostel.

'This suite is called the Red Pavilion because the bedroom is all done in that colour, I suppose? '

'Indeed sir. It dates from eighty years back. When the hostel was built, in fact. I'll send a maid with the tea. Shall Your Honour dine outside? '

'No. Have my evening rice served here.'

When they had gone back to the sitting-room, Ma Joong came in carrying two large saddlebags. The greybeard disappeared noiselessly on his felt shoes. Ma Joong opened the bags and began to lay out Judge Dee's robes on the couch. He had a broad, heavy-jowled face, smooth but for a short moustache. Originally he had been a highwayman, but some years previously he had reformed and entered Judge Dee's service. As an expert boxer and wrestler he had proved very useful to the judge in arresting violent criminals and executing other dangerous tasks.

'You can sleep on the couch here,' the judge told him. 'It's only for one night, and that'll save you the trouble of looking for a lodging outside.'

'Oh, I'll manage to find a place all right!' his lieutenant replied airily.

'As long as you don't spend all your money on wine and women!' Judge Dee said dryly. ' Paradise Island thrives on gambling and whoring, they know how to fleece people! '

'Not me!' Ma Joong said with a grin. 'Why do they call it an island, anyway?'

'Because it's surrounded by waterways, of course. But let's keep to our subject! Remember the name of the main bridge, Ma Joong, the stone arch we saw when we arrived here. It's called Soul-changing Bridge, because the hectic atmosphere of Paradise Island changes everyone who comes here into a reckless wastrel! And you have plenty to spend, too. Didn't the inheritance you got from your uncle in the capital amount to two gold bars?'

'It does! I won't touch that gold, sir! In my old age I'll buy a small house and a boat with it, in my native village. But I have also got two silver pieces, and with those I'll try my luck!'

'See to it that you are here tomorrow morning before breakfast. If we make an early start, we'll cross this northern part of Chin-hwa district in four hours or so, and arrive in the city of Chin-hwa at noon. There I must make a courtesy call on my old friend Magistrate Lo. I can't pass through his district without going to see him. Then we'll ride on home to Poo-yang.'

His stalwart lieutenant bowed and wished the judge a good night. Passing the attractive young maidservant who brought the tea tray, he gave her a broad wink.

'I'll have my tea outside on the veranda,' Judge Dee told her. 'You can serve my evening rice there too, as soon as it is ready.'

When the maid had disappeared he stepped out on the veranda. He lowered his tall frame in the bamboo chair he found standing there, next to a small round table. Stretching out his stiff legs and sipping the hot tea, he reflected with satisfaction that all had gone well during his two weeks' stay in the capital. He had been summoned there by the Metropolitan Court, to furnish more details about a case involving a Buddhist temple in his district, solved by him the year before. Now he was eager to get back to his post. It was a pity the floods had compelled him to make the detour via Chin-hwa district, but it meant a delay of only one day, after all. Although the frivolous atmosphere of Paradise Island was repugnant to him, he had been lucky to get this quiet suite in such a high-class hostel. Presently he would take a quick bath, eat a simple dinner, then have a good night's rest.

As he was going to lean back into his chair, he suddenly stiffened. He had a distinct feeling that someone was watching him. Turning round in his chair he quickly surveyed the sitting-room behind him. No one was there. He got up and walked over to the barred window of the Red Room. He looked inside but it was empty. Then he stepped up to the balustrade and scrutinized the dense shrubbery growing all along the veranda's raised base. As far as he could see nothing stirred among the dark shadows there. He noticed, however, an unpleasant smell as if of rotting leaves. He sat down again. It must have been his imagination.

Drawing his chair closer to the balustrade, he looked out over the park, where the coloured lights among the foliage offered a pleasing scene. But he could not recapture his former comfortable, relaxed mood. The still, hot air was growing oppressive; the empty park now seemed to exhale a threatening, hostile atmosphere.

A rustling among the wistaria leaves on his right made him look round with a start. He vaguely saw a girl standing at the end of the veranda, half-hidden by the low-hanging clusters of the blue wistaria flowers. Relieved, he turned his eyes to the park and said:

'Put the dinner tray down on this small table here, will you?'

He was answered by soft laughter. Astonished he looked round again. It was not the maid he had expected, but a tall girl dressed in a long robe of thin white gauze. Her glossy hair was hanging loose. He said contritely:

'Excuse me, I thought it was the maid.'

'Not a flattering mistake, to be sure!' she remarked in a pleasant, cultured voice. She stooped and came out from under the wistaria. He now noticed behind her a wicket in the balustrade, presumably the head of a flight of stairs, leading down to a path running by the hostel's side. As she came nearer it struck him that she was remarkably beautiful. Her oval face with the finely chiselled nose and the large expressive eyes was most attractive, and the wet gauze clinging to her bare body revealed its smooth whiteness and its sensuous curves with disconcerting clarity. Swinging the square toilet box she was carrying, she came to stand with her back to the balustrade, and looked the judge up and down with an insolent stare.

'You have made a mistake too,' Judge Dee said annoyed. 'This happens to be a private suite, you know!'

'Private suite ? For me there exist no such on this island, my dear sir!'

'Who are you?'

'I am the Queen Flower of Paradise Island.'

'I see,' the judge said slowly. Smoothing down his beard he reflected that this was an awkward situation. He knew that in famous pleasure resorts a committee of prominent people selects every year the most beautiful and accomplished courtesan as Queen Flower. Such a woman occupies a high position in elegant society, she is the acknowledged leader of fashion, who sets the tone in the frivolous world of ' flowers and willows'. He must try to get rid of this scantily dressed woman without offending her. So he asked politely:

'To what fortunate circumstance is this person indebted for this unexpected honour?'

'A mere accident. I was on my way back from the large bathhouse, over on the other side of the park. I came up here because this veranda affords a short-cut to the path that leads alongside this hostel to my own pavilion, beyond the pine trees there on the left. I thought these apartments were empty, you know.'

The judge gave her a sharp look. 'I was under the impression that you had been observing me here for some time already,' he said.

'I am not in the habit of watching people. They watch me.' She spoke haughtily, yet she seemed suddenly worried. Casting a quick glance at the open door of the sitting-room, she asked with a frown: 'What gave you the preposterous idea that I had been spying on you? '