Hoong had not heard judge Dee's last words. He was listening intently to the sound of cymbals and flutes that came from the direction of the street where the Temple of the City God was located.
"There's a troupe of traveling actors in town, your honor!" he said excitedly. "They must have heard about the ceremony in the White Cloud Temple, and have set up their stage to make some money from the crowd that is on foot tonight. Shall we have a look, your honor?" he added hopefully.
The judge knew that the sergeant had been a devotee of the stage all his life; it was the only relaxation he ever indulged in. He nodded with a smile.
The open space in front of the temple was crowded with people. Over their heads the judge saw the high stage made of bamboo poles and matting. Red and green streamers fluttered in the air above it; actors in glittering costumes were moving about on the stage, lighted by many gaudy lampions.
The two men elbowed their way through the crowd of standing onlookers till they had reached the wooden benches of the paying audience. A heavily made-up girl in a garish stage costume took their money, and found them two empty places in the back row. Nobody paid any attention to the newcomers; all eyes were watching the stage.
Judge Dee looked casually at the four actors. He knew very little about the theatre and its conventions, but he supposed that the old man in the green brocade robe and with the flowing white beard who stood gesticulating in the center must be an elder. The two men who were standing in front of him and the woman kneeling between them he could not place.
The orchestra stopped, the old man began a long recital in a high-pitched voice. The judge was unfamiliar with the queer, drawn-out theatrical diction; he could not follow it.
"What's it all about?" he asked Hoong.
The sergeant replied immediately, "The old man is the elder, your honor. The piece is nearing its end; he is now summing up a plaint the fellow on the left brought against his wife, the kneeling woman. The other man is the brother of the plaintiff; he came along to attest to his high character." He listened awhile, then continued excitedly, "The husband was away traveling for two years, and when he came back he found his wife pregnant. He brought the case before the elder, in order to obtain permission to repudiate her on the ground of adultery."
"Quiet!" a fat man sitting in front of the judge snapped over his shoulder.
Suddenly the orchestra struck up with a scraping of fiddles and clashing of cymbals. The woman rose gracefully and sang a passionate song, the contents of which escaped the judge entirely.
"She says," Sergeant Hoong whispered, "that her husband came back home late one day eight months ago, and spent the night with her. He departed again before dawn."
Pandemonium was breaking loose on the stage. All four actors sang and talked at the same time; the elder walked around in circles, shaking his head so that his white beard fluttered around him. The husband turned to face the audience; waving his arms, he sang in a strident voice that his wife was lying. The forefinger of his right hand had been smeared with lampblack, so as to make it appear that the finger was missing. His brother stood nodding his head approvingly, his arms folded in his long sleeves. He was made up in such a way as to resemble the other closely.
Suddenly the music stopped. The elder roared something at the second man. He acted as if he were very frightened; he turned round and round, stamping his feet on the stage and rolling his eyes. As the elder shouted again at him, the man took his right hand from his sleeve. His forefinger was missing, too.
The orchestra burst out in a frenzied melody. But the music was nearly drowned in the roar of acclamations from the crowd, Sergeant Hoong joining in at the top of his voice.
"What does it all mean?" Judge Dee asked testily when the din was diminishing.
"It was the husband's twin brother who visited the woman that night!" the sergeant explained hurriedly. "He had cut off his finger, so that the wife would think he was indeed her husband! That's why the piece is entitled `One Finger for One Night of Spring'!"
"What a story!" Judge Dee said, rising. "We'd better go back." The fat man in front of him was peeling an orange, and throwing the rinds carelessly over his shoulder into judge Dee's lap.
The stagehands were unrolling a huge red banner inscribed with five large black characters.
"Look, your honor!" Sergeant Hoong, said eagerly. "The next piece is `Three Mysteries Miraculously Solved by Judge Yü'!" "Well," Judge Dee said, resigned, "Magistrate Yü was the greatest detective of our glorious Han Dynasty, seven hundred years ago. Let's see what they make of that."
Sergeant Hoong sat down again with a contented sigh.
While the orchestra started a vivacious melody punctuated by the clacking of castanets, the stagehands carried a large red table on the stage. A huge figure with a black face and a long beard strode on the stage. He was clad in a flowing black robe embroidered with red dragons and wore a high black cap crowned with a ring of glittering ornaments. He sat down ponderously behind the red table, loudly acclaimed by the enthusiastic spectators.
Two men came up and knelt before the bench. They started a duet sung in a piercing falsetto. Judge Yü listened, combing his beard with his spread-out fingers. He raised his hand, but judge Dee couldn't see what he pointed at because just at that moment a small ragamuffin selling oil cakes tried to climb over the bench in front of him and got involved in a dispute with the fat man. But by now judge Dee's ears had become adjusted to the stage diction, and he understood snatches of the song which he could hear above the altercation going on in front of him.
When the small cake vendor had slid away the judge asked Sergeant Hoong, "Aren't those the two brothers again? I think the one accuses the other of having murdered their old father."
The sergeant nodded vigorously. The elder man on the stage rose and pretended to place a small object on the bench. Judge Yü acted as if he took it between thumb and forefinger, scrutinizing it with a deep frown.
"What is that?" Judge Dee asked.
"Haven't you got ears?" the fat man rasped over his shoulder. "It's an almond!"
"I see," Judge Dee said stiffly.
"Their old father," Hoong explained quickly, "left that almond as a clue to his murderer! The elder brother now says that his father wrote the name of the murderer on a piece of paper, concealed inside that almond."
Judge Yü acted as if he carefully unfolded a small piece of paper. Suddenly he produced as if from nowhere a sheet of paper over five feet long, inscribed with two large characters which he showed to the spectators. The crowd started to howl indignantly.
"That's the name of the younger brother!" Sergeant Hoong shouted.
"Shut up!" the fat man yelled out at him.
There was a frenzied outburst of the orchestra, gongs, cymbals and small drums striking up together. The younger brother rose and sang a passionate denial of his guilt, accompanied by a strident flute tune. Judge Yü looked from one brother to the other, angrily rolling his eyes. Suddenly the music stopped. In the dead silence that followed judge Yü leaned forward over the bench, grabbed the lapels of the robes of the two men, and dragged them toward him. He first smelled the mouth of the younger, then that of the elder brother. He roughly pushed the latter away, crashed his fist on the table and shouted something in a thunderous voice. The music struck up again a boisterous tune; the audience hurst out in acclamations. The fat man rose and roared, "Good! Good!" at the top of his voice.
"What happened?" Judge Dee asked, interested despite himself. "The judge said," Sergeant Hoong. replied, his goatee quivering with excitement, "that the elder brother smelled of almond milk! The old father knew that his elder son would murder him, and would tamper with whatever clue he would leave. Therefore he put his message inside the almond. The almond was the real clue because the elder brother was very fond of almond milk!"