this dagger was not stuck directly in the victim's throat. The hilt is so small that even a child could not hold it.
I further draw your attention to the unusual shape of the blade. It is concave and resembles a gouge rather than a dagger. In the present stage of our investigation I would not like to make even a guess at how it was used. You, Tao Gan, will fashion for me an exact replica of this dagger in wood, so that I can safely experiment with it. But be careful while handling this thing, Heaven knows what deadly poison was smeared on its tip!'
'It is clear, Your Honour', Sergeant Hoong observed, 'that we must also investigate further the background of this murder. Should not we summon Woo for an interrogation here?'
The judge nodded.
'I was just going to propose', he said, 'that we go to visit Woo now. I always prefer to see a suspect in his own surroundings. I shall go there incognito and you, Sergeant, shall accompany me.'
Judge Dee rose.
Suddenly the warden of the jail came bursting into the office.
'Your Honour!', he cried, 'Chien Mow has regained consciousness. But I fear that he is dying!'
The judge hurriedly ran after him, followed by Sergeant Hoong and Tao Gan.
They found Chien Mow stretched out on the wooden couch in his cell. The warden had placed a piece of cloth dipped in cold water on his forehead. His eyes were closed and his breath came in gasps.
Judge Dee bent over him.
Chien opened his eyes and looked up at the judge.
'Chien Mow', Judge Dee asked intently, 'who killed Magistrate Pan?'
Chien stared at the judge with burning eyes. He moved his lips but no sound came from his mouth. With a tremendous effort he finally brought out one indistinct sound. Then his voice trailed away.
Suddenly his large frame shook in a convulsive shudder. He closed his eyes and stretched his body as if to find a more comfortable position. Then he lay quite still.
Chien Mow was dead.
Sergeant Hoong exclaimed excitedly:
'He started to say 'You…' but could not continue the sentence!'
Judge Dee straightened himself. He nodded slowly and said:
'Chien Mow died before he could give us the information we need so badly!'
Looking down on the still body he added in a forlorn voice:
'Now we shall never know who murdered Magistrate Pan!'
Putting his hands in his wide sleeves the judge walked back to his private office.
Tenth Chapter
Judge Dee and Sergeant Hoong had some difficulty in locating Woo's dwelling place. They asked several shops behind the Temple of the War God, but no one had heard of a man called Woo Feng.
Then the judge remembered that he lived over a wine shop called 'Eternal Spring'. This proved to be a well known establishment, famous for the superior quality of its wines. A street urchin took them into a side alley where they saw a red cloth banner marked 'Eternal Spring' fluttering in the wind.
The shop was open in front, a high counter separated it from the street. Along the walls inside a number of large earthenware wine jars were standing on wooden shelves. Red labels pasted on their side proclaimed the excellent quality of the contents.
The proprietor, a pleasant looking round-faced man stood behind the counter idly looking out in the street while picking his teeth.
The judge and Sergeant Hoong walked round the counter and sat down at the square table inside. Judge Dee ordered a small jar of good wine. As the proprietor was wiping the table Judge Dee inquired how his business was doing.
The proprietor shrugged his shoulders.
'Nothing to boast of, he replied, 'but fairly steady. And, as I always say, just enough is better than too little!'
'Have you no one to help you in the shop?', the judge asked.
The proprietor turned round to ladle some pickled vegetables from a jar in the corner. He put them in the platter on the table and said:
'I could do with some help, but unfortunately there always goes a hungry mouth with two helping hands. No, I prefer to look after things myself. And what might you two gentlemen be doing in this town?'
'We are just passing through', the judge replied. 'We are silk merchants from the capital.'
'Well, well!', the other exclaimed, 'then you must meet my lodger, a Mr. Woo Feng, who is also from the capital.'
'Is this Mr. Woo a silk merchant too?', asked the sergeant.
'No', the proprietor answered, 'he is a kind of painter. I don't claim to be a judge in these matters but I have heard people say that he is quite good. And I would say that he is bound to be, for he is at it from morning till night!' Walking over to the stairway he called up: 'Master Woo, here are two gentlemen with the latest news from the capital!'
A voice shouted from upstairs:
'I can't leave my work just now. Let them come up!'
The wine merchant was visibly disappointed. The judge consoled him by leaving a generous tip on the table.
They climbed the wooden stairs.
The second floor consisted of one large room lighted by a row of broad lattice windows in front and at the back, pasted over with fine white paper.
A young man clad in outlandish garb was working on a picture representing the Black Judge of the Nether World. He wore a gaudy jacket and his head was covered by a high turban of coloured silk such as is worn by some barbarian tribes over the border.
JUDGE DEE IN WOO FENG'S STUDIO
The painter had spread the silk canvas out on the huge table that stood in the middle of the room. The wall space between the windows was covered entirely by a great number of finished pictures, provisionally mounted on paper scrolls. A bamboo couch stood against the back wall.
'Sit for a while on that couch, gentlemen!', the young man said without looking up from his work, 'I am putting in some blue paint here and if I stop the colour will not dry evenly.'
Sergeant Hoong sat down on the couch. Judge Dee remained standing and looked with interest at the young man as he was deftly handling his brush. He noticed that the picture, though expertly drawn, showed a number of unfamiliar features, especially in the treatment of the folds in the dresses and of the faces of the persons represented. Looking round at the pictures hanging on the wall the judge found that all of them showed these same foreign features.
The young man added a last stroke, then straightened himself and started washing his brush in a porcelain bowl. As he did so he gave the judge a penetrating look. Slowly moving the brush round in the bowl he said:
'So Your Honour is the new magistrate. Since evidently you are here incognito, I shall not embarrass you with the usual formalities!'
Judge Dee was quite taken back by this sudden statement.
'What makes you think that I am a magistrate?', he asked.
