The Phantom Of The Temple

by Robert Van Gulik

  The chained man looked up with dazed eyes.

  ‘He said that the monks had hidden a treasure there,’ he mumbled. ‘I … I suspected there was more to it. I found in Lee’s bedroom notes of calculation on the value of fifty gold bars, and …’

  ‘And you thought you could do better for yourself than the share Lee had promised you,’ Judge Dee broke in upon his words. ‘You hired the professional bully Seng-san, and together you worked out a plan for luring Lee to the temple and murdering him. Seng-san strangled Lee from behind. Then you executed the second phase of your fiendish plan, Yang. You waited till Seng-san had choked the life out of Lee, and stood bent over his victim. Then you plunged your knife into Seng-san’s back. Why did you wait weeks on end before murdering Lee? Then why did you try twice to murder my lieutenant on two successive nights? Why didn’t you wait a few days, till we had given up the search of the temple? Speak up, Yang!’

  Yang’s lips moved, but no sound came forth.

  ‘Tell the truth!’ the judge barked.

  ‘Last week … I went through Lee’s papers again when he was out. He used to go to the old bookshops, nearly every day. … At last he found what he was looking for. A collection of letters, written by an abbot of the temple, more than a hundred years ago. One letter dealt with the building of a secret wall-safe, down in the crypt. When Lee bought a rope-ladder … I had to be very quick, for I couldn’t impersonate Lee longer than a few days at most. I had to get the gold quickly, leave here …’

  ‘Tomorrow you shall render a full account of your crimes in court,’ Judge Dee interrupted. ‘Take the prisoner away, headman, and let six guards convey him to jail! Mr Woo, yesterday you asked me what new clues to your daughter’s disappearance prompted me to issue a proclamation. I shall now answer your question. There came into my hands a note signed with your daughter’s name, stating that she was being kept captive here, and begging someone to rescue her. It was enclosed in an antique ebony box. The cover of that box was decorated with a disc of green jade, carved into the shape of a stylized, archaic form of the character for “long life”. Someone had scratched at one side of that character the word “entrance” and at the other side the word “below”. Now it so happens that the shape of that character bears a close resemblance to the floor-plan of this very temple. The oblong space in the centre suggests the main hall, the dented lines beside it the cells of the monks, the two squares the two towers. The box was evidently chosen because of this resemblance; it supplemented the information of the message. The message stated the time, the box the place. And the place was indicated exactly by the word “below” scratched beside the back wall of the hall: it clearly pointed to a crypt, under the altar.’

  ‘My daughter must have found the box in the crypt,’ Woo muttered. ‘But how did she …’

  Judge Dee shook his head.

  ‘The message inside was signed with your daughter’s name, Mr Woo, but she didn’t write it. The fall into this deep crypt broke her neck, and she died at once. The box was an elaborate hoax, contrived for reasons not germane to the present issue. The hoax helped me, however, to reconstruct the crime, for it drew my attention to the crypt here. The box was allegedly found near a rabbit hole, on the slope behind the temple. That points to the mouth of an airshaft. This crypt has indeed four air-shafts, to prevent the monks from suffocating when they had to take refuge there for a few days. The large jars in the crypt contained water and dried rice. I shan’t detain you any longer, Mr Woo. I shall have the remains of your daughter properly encoffined, and delivered to you for burial. I deeply regret that her life could not be saved. But Heaven has punished her murderer. And the doubts her disappearance caused you have now been resolved.’

  Mr Woo made a low bow. Then he turned and strode to the entrance, followed by his wife. The judge quickly overtook her. He told her in a low voice:

  ‘Yesterday your husband didn’t come to the tribunal to denounce you, Mrs Woo. He wanted to protect you. Now you can start your married life anew. Don’t look for cheap amusement on the side. You have seen that it may lead to ignominious death.’

  She nodded and quickly walked on to join her husband.

  When Judge Dee had gone back to the altar, he saw that Lee Mai was standing there, his head down, staring at the closed trap door.

  ‘Please accept the expression of my sincerest sympathy, Mr Lee.’

  The banker bowed.

  ‘I mourn my fiancée, sir. I had always hoped that she was still alive. And I am deeply distressed by my brother’s bringing dishonour over our family.’

  ‘I have a great respect for your firm character and your unswerving loyalty, Mr Lee,’ the judge said gravely. ‘A family that counts among its members a man like you should weather all reverses.’

  Lee Mai bowed again and crossed the hall to the entrance.

  The Abbess, who had been watching all this with her large, vacant eyes, now slowly shook her head and said, ‘This temple was destined to become the scene of terrible events, for it has been desecrated by heterodox rites. And where the Lord Buddha leaves, evil spirits and devils come to dwell. I shall at once make preparations for an elaborate purification ceremony. Goodbye, sir.’

  ‘See Her Reverence home, Ma Joong!’ Judge Dee ordered. Then he turned to the headman. ‘Send four of your men to the east city gate, to fetch bamboo ladders, two temporary coffins, spades, shovels and more ropes. We shall first remove the dead bodies, then the gold. Finally the crypt must be cleaned out. Let’s go outside and wait in the yard, Hoong. The musty atmosphere here has become unbearable! ‘

  The judge sat down on a large boulder under one of the lampions of the tribunal, Sergeant Hoong on a tree trunk. From the other side of the outer wall came a confused murmur of voices. The beggars and loafers who had followed the cortège from the east gate had eagerly questioned the guards who took the prisoner away. Now they were busily discussing the astonishing developments.

  Sergeant Hoong gratefully inhaled the fresh air. He tried to sort out the events that had followed one another in such quick succession, but he couldn’t put all the pieces together; it seemed to him that Judge Dee had deliberately left some lacunae. The main point was, however, that the judge had recovered the Treasurer’s gold! He smiled contentedly. This would certainly make the high authorities in the capital favourably disposed to the judge. It might mean promotion to a better post than this out-of-the-way, provincial district!

  ‘How are you going to transport the government gold, sir? ‘ he asked.

  ‘We shall have it packed in oil-paper here, Hoong, then take it down to the tribunal in my palankeen. There we must have the amount verified at once, and in the presence of reliable witnesses.’

  The judge fell silent. Crossing his arms in his wide sleeves, he looked up at the perfectly symmetrical silhouette of the temple, outlined against the evening sky. The sergeant tugged pensively at his thin goatee, his right elbow in his cupped left hand. After a long while, he said:

  ‘This afternoon Your Honour placed Yang’s card on top of that of Lee Ko. Did you already suspect that Yang was impersonating the painter?’

  Judge Dee looked round at him.

  ‘Yes, I did, Hoong. It struck me that, although the self-styled painter was able to conduct an intelligent conversation about the theory of pictorial art-and any student of literature is capable of doing that-he could not paint on short notice the picture I had ordered. His excuses were pure nonsense. A painter who could do the splendid work we saw in the atelier would have set to work at once on a picture of the border scenery, a subject he was thoroughly familiar with and for which I would have paid a good price. And I have never heard from my Third Lady that good paper is difficult to obtain here in Lan-fang. Also, when I visited him unexpectedly, together with Ma Joong, I noticed that the paint in the platters had dried out and was covered with dust, proving they hadn’t been used for a day or so. His telling us that Yang was on a spree confirmed my doubts, although I had to admit that Ma
Joong had a point when he said that innkeepers often give spurious information. Finally, Hoong, there was this curious outburst of violence of the past three days. Three people killed, and two murderous attacks on Ma Joong! I had the distinct feeling that a new element had entered the case, that an entirely new person was after the gold, a man who had a compelling reason for trying to leave here as soon as possible. That supported my theory of an impersonation. For, although both the painter and Yang were known for their erratic habits, there was still the risk of a shopkeeper or tradesman of their neighbourhood asking awkward questions. After the experiment with the trap door had proved that Mr and Mrs Woo, Lee Mai and the Abbess were innocent, I knew that Yang Mou-te was our man.’

  The sergeant nodded.

  ‘It would have taken superhuman self-restraint not to jump back knowing one was standing on a trap door that was about to open on a crypt twenty feet deep! ‘

  ‘Exactly. Well, a capricious fate willed that neither Yang nor Lee opened the ebony box, and that I found it and discovered its full import through Spring Cloud’s floor-plan of the temple. And it’s even more curious that Yang, eager to make up for his failure to produce the painting, tried to make a good impression on me by telling me how he got that ebony box-never suspecting what weighty consequences that simple gesture would have! A strange case, Hoong. A very strange case indeed! ‘

  The judge shook his head and began to caress his long side whiskers.

  Sergeant Hoong gave him a sideways glance. After some hesitation, he cleared his throat and said, ‘You have explained everything, sir. Except the phantom.’

  Judge Dee came out of his reverie. Looking hard at the sergeant, he said slowly, ‘The Phantom of the Temple shall never stalk about here again, Hoong. The strange ties, mystic and otherwise, that bound it to this old temple have been severed. For good. Ha, there we have Ma Joong! ‘ Seeing the tall man’s dejected face, the judge asked, alarmed, ‘Has Fang taken a turn for the worse?’

  ‘Oh no, sir. I just had a look at him, after I had seen the Abbess home. He’s doing fine.’

  Judge Dee got up. ‘Good. There’s a lot of work to be done, Ma Joong. We shall go back to the hall and open the crypt. The constables will be here soon with everything needed for hauling up the two corpses and the gold.’

  The judge crossed the yard, his two lieutenants following behind.

  Ma Joong heaved a deep sigh. ‘Women,’ he told the sergeant sombrely, ‘are fickle creatures.’

  ‘So they say,’ the sergeant replied absent-mindedly.

  Ma Joong laid his large hand on his arm. ‘Youth seeks youth, sergeant. One lives and learns. But it hurts.’

  Sergeant Hoong suddenly remembered the fond look the wounded young constable had given Spring Cloud, and her sudden blush. So he just nodded and quickly walked on.

  Chapter 21

  It was late in the night by the time Judge Dee had finished the most urgent business resulting from the discovery in the deserted temple. The Treasurer’s gold had been carefully weighed and its value assessed, in the presence of four witnesses: four of the notables of Lan-fang, hastily summoned to the tribunal. Then the fifty gold bars had been made into five sealed parcels and placed in the large safe in the chancery. Six soldiers would stand guard there all through the night. In the morning Ma Joong would take the gold to the prefecture, accompanied by a unit of mounted military police. The prefect would see to it that the gold was forwarded to the Imperial capital.

  When the judge had signed and sealed his report to the prefect, he told Sergeant Hoong to put it in a large official envelope. He went to the wash-stand in the corner, and rubbed his face and neck with a towel dipped in the cold water.

  ‘We have a complete case,’ he told the sergeant. ‘I don’t expect Yang will bring forward any new facts when I hear him in court tomorrow morning. I think he’ll limit himself to a formal confession of having instigated the murder of Lee Ko, of having himself murdered Seng-san, and having subsequently severed their heads in order to

  be able to switch the bodies and hide the tattooed clue to the temple and the gold. He’ll also confess to the murder of the constable. He fully realizes he’s done for, and that nothing will save him from being executed in the severest way known to the law. When he was being locked up in his cell, he seemed utterly calm and resigned to his fate.’

  The judge paused. He took a comb from his sleeve and began to comb his beard and whiskers. Giving the sergeant a grave look, he resumed, ‘Yet you’ll realize, Hoong, that there are still a few loose ends to be tied up. I don’t think I shall have to take any further legal action, but it is my duty to make sure. Ma Joong is still busy up in the deserted temple, supervising the cleaning of the crypt. If you aren’t too tired, Hoong, I would like you to go with me when I make a call down town.’

  ‘I would like very much to accompany you, sir,’ the sergeant said quietly. ‘For I don’t think it’ll be a very pleasant call.’

  Judge Dee smiled wanly. How well his old friend always gauged his mood!

  ‘Thank you, Hoong. We’ll go as we are, and leave the tribunal by the back door. We’ll hire a sedan chair in the street.’

  The bearers put the chair down in front of the Temple of the War God. While the judge was paying them off, Sergeant Hoong made inquiries from two loafers who were sitting on the broad stone steps of the temple gate. He asked the way to a cheap brothel, housed in an old military barrack. They told him, with a contemptuous sneer.

  Together they walked on to the poor quarter. A street urchin took them to the barrack on the corner of the crooked lane. Now all the windows of the ramshackle wooden building were open. Heavily made-up women were leaning out. Fanning themselves with fans of gaudy silk, they shouted inviting remarks at the passers-by. But the men in the street didn’t heed them. Standing about in small groups, they were discussing the happenings in the deserted temple. The coolies and beggars who had accompanied Judge Dee’s cortège had rushed back to the city to tell the news.

  Judge Dee recognized the barred arch window Ma Joong had described, and the low, dark door-opening farther on. It reminded the judge of the entrance to a tomb.

  He descended the steep steps, followed by Sergeant Hoong.

  After the noise in the street outside, the stillness that reigned in the cellar was uncanny. The old man in black was sitting huddled up in his window, his head resting on the bamboo stick across his knees. In the rear the candle shone on the large head of the King, cradled on his folded arms. He seemed to be sleeping.

  When Judge Dee stepped up to the table, there came a fluttering sound from above, and a thin voice screamed:

  ‘A beard, Monk! A beard! Wake up! ‘

  The stick swept down in a threatening curve.

  ‘Be quiet, you! ‘ Judge Dee barked at the bald man. ‘I am the magistrate.’

  The man in the window shrank. He pressed his frail body against the iron bars, in a dead fright.

  The King had raised his head from the table. He pointed at the stool in front.

  ‘Sit down, judge. You must be tired, for I am told you had a heavy night.’

  Judge Dee took the bamboo stool. Sergeant Hoong came to stand behind him. Silently the judge took in the giant’s broad, grooved face, the still eyes, the high forehead. Then his eyes strayed to the table-top, covered with intricate carved designs. He heaved a sigh and rubbed his stiff knees. He had been on his feet the entire night.

  ‘Well, what can I do for you?’ the other asked in his deep voice.

  ‘You can help me with some expert advice, Monk,’ the judge replied quietly. ‘You aren’t called the Monk for nothing, are you? You were a real monk, once. Of the Temple of the Purple Clouds. Long ago, when the esoteric ritual was still being practised there. And, after the authorities had the temple vacated, you built the Hermitage. You and one priestess. Therefore I consider you an expert on temples, Monk.’

  The giant nodded slowly.

  ‘Yes, judge, those who call you an exceed
ingly clever man are right. You need no advice, judge, none whatsoever. And certainly not from me.’

  ‘I do. On a minor detail, you see. Aren’t the airshafts of a crypt under a temple always provided with gratings? To prevent rats from entering them? I don’t mention rabbits, of course.’

  The King sat very still. His immensely broad shoulders sagged still further. Looking up at the judge from under the ragged fringe of his long grey eyebrows, he muttered, ‘So you know. Yes, you are clever, judge. I have said it before, and I’ll say it again! ‘

  ‘You forgot about the gratings, Monk, but you also made a more serious mistake. The wording of the message you put in the box was all wrong. Why should a girl who is dying from hunger and thirst add the year to the date of her message? I saw at once that it was utterly wrong. And then, after I had understood that the jade disc on the box was intended to hint at the place where she allegedly was kept captive, I knew for certain that the entire message was a hoax. Granted that she might have found such an ebony box among the litter in the crypt, and granted that she had a tinderbox to light one of the old candles there, nobody in his senses would ever believe that a frantic girl who feels that her life is ebbing away would think up such an elaborate puzzle.’ Pointing at the table-top, he resumed: ‘Such a puzzle would rather emanate from the warped brain of someone who sits brooding over magic figures, for days on end.’

  ‘Why should I fake messages from dying girls, judge?’ ‘In order to blackmail her murderer. It was one of your beggars, Monk, who took the ebony box to Lee Ko, with instructions to say that it had been found near a rabbit hole, on the slope behind the temple. The rabbit hole would suggest to the murderer an airshaft, and warn him that the sender of the box knew everything. That his foul deed had been discovered because Miss Jade had not been killed by her fall into the crypt, and had written that message in her last moments with her own blood, then got it outside by throwing it down the air-shaft. To me, Monk, it suggested another, very important fact. Namely, that the sender of the box knew that the murderer, after he had pushed Miss Jade into the crypt, had closed the trap door at once, without verifying whether the fall had killed her. Answer me, Monk. How did you know that?’