Eikan turned to the right and they walked along the veranda until he stopped before one of the doors.

“This is the room which was given to Mrs. Nagaoka’s brother-in-law,” he told Akitada.

The door was not latched, and he merely pushed it open on an empty room. It literally held nothing, not so much as a clothes chest. The bare space was only ten feet deep and wide, perhaps to fit the monastic ideal of the ten-foot-square hermit’s hut, and had a floor of plain boards. The rough wooden walls, decorated with the scribbles or drawings of generations of pilgrims, had only two openings, the door and one small window in the back wall. As accommodation it was hardly luxurious.

“Have they removed the furnishings?” asked Akitada, astonished.

“No. All the rooms are like this. Bedding and a lamp are provided if there are guests. On cold nights also a brazier of coals. And, of course, water and a simple vegetarian meal. All of those things, except for the brazier, were left for the gentleman.” Eikan paused, clearing his throat meaningfully. “He did not make any use of them.”

“Oh?” Akitada noted a coy expression on Eikan’s face.

“It is one of those facts, my lord, which has filled the younger monks’ minds with conjectures of a worldly nature and imposed the penitential meditations on them.” Eikan winked with a straight face.

Akitada almost laughed aloud. He was beginning to like his companion. “You are suggesting that the lady’s brother-in-law joined her in her quarters soon after their arrival. What about his luggage?”

“Oh, he left that behind, money and all.”

Akitada’s brows shot up. “All but his sword,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“Ah,” cried Eikan, rubbing his hands. “I follow your thinking, my lord. You believe that he had already made up his mind to murder the poor lady and proceeded immediately to her room, taking his sword along?”

“That is one explanation.”

“But that means that he was not bent on seducing his brother’s wife, as most of us have assumed. He did not kill her because she spurned his advances?”

“It would seem unlikely that he would take his sword on an errand of love.”

“A brilliant deduction, my lord.” Eikan eyed Akitada with admiration. “I am willing to wager that the police have not thought of that. They kept asking if anyone had noticed improper behavior between the two.”

Not being in Kobe’s confidence, Akitada could not pursue the subject. He asked instead, “Who discovered the crime?”

“One of the novices. His name is Ancho. The novices are assigned to cleaning duties in the guest quarters. Ancho and Sosei had the duty that week. I made a note of it and questioned Ancho after I discovered your identity, my lord, just in case you should return and ask me this question.”

Akitada thanked him gravely.

“It is a pleasure to be of service. In any case, Ancho and Sosei started their duties after the morning lecture. That is well after the hour of the dragon, when most guests have risen and are at their devotions or have departed. Ancho knocked at the lady’s door, and when there was no answer, he assumed the room was empty and used his special key. He was horrified to find the bloody corpse of a woman and the lifeless body of a man. Being young, he went screaming for help. Sosei came from another room and looked. He, too, ran, but he had the sense to get a senior monk from the monastery. Ancho, confused, stayed in the courtyard within sight of the room. He saw a few guests gathering to peer into the room until some of the senior monks arrived. It was only then that someone noticed the man was alive and merely in a drunken stupor. They tied him up, and the prior sent for the capital police.”

“Did the man sleep through all this commotion?”

“It took the police several hours to get here. He woke up in the meantime and had to be restrained. The monks got more ropes and sat on him when he got violent. The police felt it proved his guilt.”

Akitada had no trouble picturing the scene. Nagaoka’s brother, Kojiro, woken up by a rude shaking, and, while still dazed with the aftereffects of drink, tied up by a group of monks, would have panicked. He nodded and said, “I think I should like to see that room next.”

They walked along the veranda to the short wing of cells.

“This is where the women stay,” Eikan said. “The male actors occupied rooms across from this wing. It seemed better to separate them. The mind is supposed to be pure when preparing for worship.”

Akitada grunted somewhat disrespectfully. Eikan ignored it and threw open another door on a room identical to the last one. Akitada stepped in and looked around. The floorboards had been scrubbed, of course, and there would not have been much blood in any case. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he turned his attention to the door. There was a latch on the inside which could be lifted from the outside only by a special key inserted through a small hole. Akitada asked, “Who has keys for this lock?”

“There are only two. They are kept in the guest prefect’s office. Only the novices assigned to cleaning duties carry them. They are issued keys on the morning of their duties by the work supervisor, and they return them to him when they are done. Empty rooms generally are not locked.”

“I see. Do you suppose I could have a word with this Ancho?”

“Nothing easier. He’s outside.”

They stepped out onto the veranda, and looked toward a young monk who was raking the gravel at the end of the courtyard.

Eikan put his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Ancho.” The young monk dropped his bamboo rake and came running.

“Ancho,” said Eikan, “this is the great lord I mentioned to you. He has come to investigate the murder and has a few questions for you.”

Ancho’s rosy cheeks, flushed by the cold air or his labors, paled a little and he cast a fearful look toward the open door. “I don’t know,” he said nervously. “Master Genno has forbidden us to think about such things. It is very difficult, but I have endeavored to obey.”

“Never mind,” said Eikan. “This is a special situation. You know His Reverence has told us to cooperate fully with the authorities.”

Seeing the young man’s uneasiness, Akitada said soothingly, “I will be as quick as I can. I am sure you must find all this upsetting.”

Ancho nodded gratefully. He looked like a bright youngster, not much more than eighteen, Akitada guessed.

“Well, then, Ancho, are you certain that the door to this room was locked when you came to clean the room?”

“Yes. When there was no answer to my knocking, I pushed against it. Usually the guests leave the door unlatched when they leave. I knocked again, and when there was again no answer, I inserted my key and tripped the latch.”

“May I see the key, please?”

Ancho exchanged a glance with Eikan—who nodded firmly—and handed over a thin metal gadget he carried tied to the rope around his waist.

The key was peculiarly shaped, and Akitada saw immediately that it was made especially for this kind of latch. He inserted it into the hole and heard the small click as the latch moved. A slight twist released it again. Satisfied that only an expert thief, and one who had come prepared, would be able to unlock the door without this special key, Akitada returned it to the young monk.

“Now I must ask about some things which you may find upsetting,” he said. “Please forgive me and do the best you can. First, tell me exactly what you saw when the door opened.”

The young monk closed his eyes. He grew a bit paler, but spoke readily enough. “I saw the lady on the floor. Her feet were toward the door. I recognized the robe right away. Very pretty it was, with chrysanthemums and golden grasses embroidered on it. I thought she was asleep, but she was not on her bedding. She was on the bare floor and lying strangely. Then I thought she had become ill and fainted. I went in to help her.” He shuddered and swallowed hard. “There was blood and her face… there was no face… it was all cut up. I knew she was dead then and I ran.” He opened his eyes and looked at Akitada miserably.