classical literature here in my own house, for a few advanced students."

Judge Dee rose and said he wanted to see the scene of the tragedy.

The professor nodded silently. He led his two guests through an open corridor to a second courtyard, and stood still before a graceful arched door opening. He said slowly:

"Beyond is the courtyard which I had assigned to my son. I have given strict orders that no one shall enter there since the coffin has been removed."

Inside was a small landscaped garden. In the center stood a rustic stone table, flanked by two clusters of bamboos whose rustling green leaves made one forget the oppressive heat.

Upon entering the narrow portal, Dr. Djang first pushed open the door on the left and showed them a small library. There was just room for a writing desk in front of the window, and an old armchair. The book rack bore piles of books and manuscript rolls. The professor said softly:

"My son was extremely fond of his small library. He had chosen the pen name of Student of the Bamboo Grove, though the clusters of bamboos outside there could hardly be called a grove!"

Judge Dee went inside and examined the books on the rack. Dr. Djang and Sergeant Hoong remained standing outside. Turning round to them, the judge said casually to the professor:

"I see from his choice of books that your son had wide interests. It's a pity that those extended also to the damsels of the Willow Quarter!"

"Who in the world," Dr. Djang exclaimed angrily, "could have given Your Honor this ridiculous misinformation! My son was of a most serious disposition; he never went out at night. Who made that preposterous suggestion?"

"I thought I had heard a remark to that effect somewhere," Judge Dee answered vaguely. "I probably misunderstood the speaker. Since your son was such an industrious scholar I suppose that he wrote a very good hand?"

The professor pointed at a pile of papers on the desk and said curtly:

"That is the manuscript of my son's commentary on the Analects of Confucius, on which he was working of late."

Judge Dee leafed the manuscript through. "A very expressive handwriting," he commented as he stepped out into the portal.

The doctor took them to the sitting room opposite. He seemed still to nurse a grievance over Judge Dee's remark about his son's dissipated life. His face had a surly expression when he said:

"If Your Honor walks down the corridor you'll find the door of the bedroom. With Your Honor's leave I shall wait here."

Judge Dee nodded. Followed by Sergeant Hoong he passed through the dimly lit corridor. At the end they saw a door hanging loose on its hinges. The judge pushed it open and surveyed from the threshold the darkish room. It was fairly small, and lit only by the sunlight filtering in through the translucent paper pasted over the latticework of the only window.

Sergeant Hoong whispered excitedly:

"So Candidate Djang was Almond Blossom's lover!"

"And the fellow drowned himself!" Judge Dee replied testily. "We have found the Student of the Bamboo Grove and lost him at the same time! There is one curious point, though. His handwriting is quite different from that of the love letters." He stooped and continued: "Look, a film of dust covers the floor. Apparently the professor spoke the truth when he said that nobody entered this room after Moon Fairy's body had been removed."

The judge looked for a moment at the broad couch against the back wall. The reed mat that covered it showed some dark-red spots. On the right there was a dressing table, on the left a pile of clothes boxes. By the side of the couch stood a small tea table, with two tabourets. The air in the room was very close.

Judge Dee walked over to the window to open it. But it was locked by a wooden crossbar, covered with dust. He pushed it back with some difficulty. Through the iron bars he saw a corner of a vegetable garden surrounded by a high brick wall. There was a small door, apparently used by the cook when he came to gather vegetables.

The judge shook his head perplexedly. He said:

"The door was locked on the inside, Hoong, the window has solid iron bars and anyway hasn't been opened for several days at least. How in the name of Heaven did Candidate Djang leave this room that fateful night?"

The sergeant gave his master a puzzled look.

"That is very queer!" he said. And then, after some hesitation: "Perhaps this room has a secret door, Your Honor!"

Judge Dee rose quickly. They pushed the couch away from the wall and studied the wall and the floor inch by inch. Then they examined also the other walls and the entire floor, but without result.

Judge Dee resumed his seat. Dusting his knees he said:

"Go back to the sitting room, Hoong, and order the professor to write out for me a list of all the friends and acquaintances of himself and his son. I shall stay here for a while and have a look around."

After the sergeant had left, Judge Dee folded his arms. So now there was a new riddle to be solved. In the case of the dead dancer there were at least some definite leads. The motive was clear: the murderer wanted to prevent her from warning the judge about a secret plot. There were four suspects. A systematic investigation of their -relations with the courtesan would show who the culprit was, and then the plot he was planning would soon be known. The investigation was well under way, and now this queer affair had cropped up, a case where there were two main persons, and both of them dead! And here there seemed to be no lead at all! The professor was a curious man, but he did not seem the type of a philanderer. On the other hand, appearances are often deceptive, and Wan I-fan would hardly have dared to lie in court about the affair of his daughter. But neither would the professor have dared to lie when he said that his son didn't frequent the Willow Quarter. Dr. Djang was clever enough to know that such things could easily be checked. Perhaps the doctor himself had had an affair with the dancer, and used his son's pen name in his love letters! He wasn't so young any more, but he had a strong personality, and anyway it was always difficult to know a woman's preference. In any case they would compare the doctor's writing with that of the love letters; the list Hoong would have him draw up would provide them with a specimen. But the professor couldn't have murdered the dancer, because he hadn't been on board! Perhaps after all the dancer's love affair had nothing to do with her murder.

Judge Dee shifted on his chair. Suddenly he had the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. He turned to the open window.

A pale haggard face was looking at him with wide eyes.

The judge jumped up and ran to the window, but he stumbled over the second tabouret. He scrambled up but reached the window only in time to see the door in the garden wall close.

He rushed to the first courtyard and ordered Ma Joong and Chiao Tai to search at once the street outside for a man of medium height, his head shaved like that of a monk. Then he told the headman to assemble all the inmates of the household in the reception hall, and thereafter search the house to see that nobody was hiding there. He slowly walked over to the hall himself, his eyebrows knitted in a deep frown.

Sergeant Hoong and Dr. Djang came running out to see what all the commotion was about. Judge Dee ignored their questions. He curtly asked Dr. Djang:

"Why didn't you tell me there is a secret door in the bridal room?

The professor stared at the judge in blank astonishment.

"A secret door?" he asked. "What would I, a retired scholar living in a reign of peace, need such a contraption for? I myself supervised the building of this house; I can assure Your Honor that there is no such thing in the entire building!"