oppression.'
Judge Dee gave a sign to Chiao Tai. He rose and led Fang back to the jail.
The judge left his armchair and began to pace the floor. When Chiao Tai had come back, Judge Dee stood still and said pensivily:
'That man Fang evidently told the truth. This district is in the power of a local tyrant, magistrates are nothing but powerless figureheads here. That explains the queer attitude of the local population.'
Chiao Tai hit his large first on his knee.
'Must we', he exclaimed angrily, 'bow to that scoundrel Chien?'
The judge smiled his thin smile.
'The hour is late, he said, 'you two had better retire and have a good night's rest. Tomorrow I shall have much work for you. I shall stay here for an hour or so and have a glance at those old archives.'
Tao Gan and Chiao Tai offered to stay up for assisting the judge but he firmly refused.
As soon as they had left Judge Dee took up a candle and entered the next room. With the sleeve of his dirty travelling robe he rubbed the mould from the labels of the document boxes. He found that the most recent file was dated eight years before.
The judge carried this box into his office and spread out the contents on his desk.
It took his experienced eye but little time to verify that it were mostly documents relating to the routine of the district administration. On the bottom of the box, however, he found a small roll, marked 'The Case Yoo versus Yoo'. Judge Dee sat down. He unrolled the document and glanced through it.
He saw that it was a law suit concerning the inheritance of Yoo Shou-chien, a provincial governor who, nine years before, had died whilst living in retirement in Lan-fang.
Judge Dee closed his eyes and cast his thoughts back fifteen years, when he was serving in the capital as a junior secretary. At that time the name Yoo Shou-chien had been famous all over the Empire. He had been an exceptionally able and scrupulously honest official; devoted to the state and the people, he had earned fame both as a benevolent administrator and a wise statesman. Then, when the Throne appointed him Grand Secretary of State, Yoo Shou-chien had suddenly resigned from all his offices; pleading poor health he had buried himself in some obscure border district. The Emperor himself had urged him to reconsider his decision but Yoo Shou-chien had steadfastly refused. Judge Dee remembered that at that time this sudden resignation had created quite a sensation in the capital.
So Lan-fang had been the place where Yoo Shou-chien lived his last years.
Slowly Judge Dee unrolled the document once more, and read it carefully from beginning to end.
He found that when Yoo Shou-chien settled down to a life of retirement in Lan-fang, he was a widower of over sixty. He had an only son called Yoo Kee, then thirty years old. Shortly after his arrival in Lan-fang the old governor had remarried. He chose as his bride a young peasant girl of barely eighteen, of the surname Mei. Out of this unequal marriage there was born a second son, called Yoo Shan.
When the old governor fell ill and felt that his end was drawing near, he called his son Yoo Kee and his young wife with her infant son to his deathbed. He told them that he bequeathed a scroll picture he had painted himself to his wife and his second son Yoo Shan; all the rest of his possessions was to go to Yoo Kee. He added that he trusted that Yoo Kee would see to it that his stepmother and his half-brother would receive what was due to them. Having made this statement the old governor breathed his last.
Judge Dee looked at the date of the document and reflected that now Yoo Kee must be about forty, the widow nearly thirty, and her son twelve years old.
The document stated that as soon as his father had been buried, Yoo Kee expelled his stepmother and Yoo Shan from his house. He had said that the last words of his father evidently implied that Yoo Shan was an illegitimate child and that he was not bound to do anything either for him or for his adulterous mother.
Thereupon the widow had filed a complaint with the tribunal contesting the oral will, and claiming half of the property for her son, on the basis of common law.
At that time Chien had just established himself as the ruler of Lan-fang. It seemed that the tribunal had done nothing to settle this suit.
Judge Dee rolled up the document. He reflected that at first sight the widow did not have a strong case. The last words of the old governor together with the disparity in age of him and his second wife seemed to suggest that Mrs. Mei had indeed been unfaithful to her husband.
On the other hand it was curious that a man of such high ethical standards as the great Yoo Shou-chien had chosen this peculiar way of proclaiming that Yoo Shan was not his son. If he had really discovered that his young wife deceived him one would expect that he would have quietly divorced her, and sent her and her son away to live in some distant place, thus protecting the honour of himself and of his distinguished family. And why this queer bequest of the picture?
It seemed strange also that Yoo Shou-chien had not left a written testament. A man of his long official experience ought to have known that oral testaments nearly always engender bitter family quarrels.
This case had several angles that deserved a careful investigation. Perhaps it might also bring to light the key to the mystery of Yoo Shou-chien's sudden resignation.
Judge Dee rummaged through the documents but he could find nothing else that had a bearing on the case
Yoo versus Yoo. Neither did he find any material that might be used against Chien.
The judge replaced the documents in the box. He remained sitting in deep thought for a long time. He pondered ways and means to oust the tyrant Chien, but time and again his thoughts reverted to the old governor and his curious bequest.
One candle spluttered and went out. With a sigh Judge Dee took up the other one and walked to his own quarters.
Third Chapter
The next morning Judge Dee found to his dismay that he was late. He had a hurried breakfast and then went immediately to his private office.
He saw that the room had been thoroughly cleaned. His armchair had been repaired and the desk polished. On its top all Judge Dee's favourite writing implements had been laid out with a care in which the judge recognized the hand of Sergeant Hoong.
The judge found the sergeant in the archives room. Together with Tao Gan he had swept and aired the dank place; now it smelled pleasantly of the wax they had used for polishing the red leather document boxes.
Judge Dee nodded contentedly. As he sat down behind his desk he ordered Tao Gan to fetch Ma Joong and Chiao Tai.
When all his four lieutenants were assembled before him the judge first inquired how Sergeant Hoong and Ma Joong were doing. Both said that they were none the worse for the fight of the night before. The sergeant had replaced the bandage on his head by a plaster of oil paper and Ma Joong could move his left arm again although it was still somewhat stiff.
Ma Joong reported that early that morning he and Chiao Tai had inspected the armoury of the tribunal. They had found a good collection of pikes, halberds, swords, helmets and leather jackets, but everything was old and dirty and needed a thorough polishing.
Judge Dee said slowly:
'Fang's story offers a plausible explanation for the strange situation here. If all he said is true we must act quickly before Chien has found out that I am going to turn against him and steals the first move. We must attack before he knows what is happening. As our old proverb says: 'A dangerous dog bites without first baring its teeth'!' 'What shall we do with that warden?', Sergeant Hoong inquired.
