Wild Youth

Chapter 17

THE SUPERIOR MAN

Students of life have noticed constantly that moral distinctions are not

matters of principle but of certain peremptory rules found on nice

calculations of the social mind. In the field of crime, responsibility is

most often calculated, not upon the crime itself, but upon how the thing

is done.

In Askatoon, no one would have been greatly shocked if, when Orlando

Guise and Joel Mazarine met at the railway-station or in the main street,

Orlando had killed Mazarine.

Mazarine would have been dead in either case; and he would have been

killed by another hand in either case; but the attitude of the public

would not have been the same in either case. The public would have

considered the killing of Mazarine before the eyes of the world as

justifiable homicide; its dislike of the man would have induced it to add

the word justifiable.

But that Joel Mazarine should be killed by night without an audience,

secretly--however righteously--shocked the people of Askatoon.

Had they seen the thing done, there would have been sensation, but no

mystery; but night, secrecy, distance, mystery, all begot, not a reaction

in Mazarine's favour, but a protest against the thing being done under

cover, as it were, unhelped by popular observation. Also, to the Askatoon

mind, that one man should kill another in open quarrel was courageous, or

might be courageous,--but for one man to kill another, whoever that other

was, in a hidden way, was a barbarian business.

It seemed impossible to have any doubt as to who killed the man, though

Orlando had not waited a moment after the body had been brought to

Tralee, but had gone straight to the police, and told what had happened,

so far as he knew it. He stated the exact facts.

The insurance man, Scarsdale, would not open his mouth until the inquest,

which took place on the afternoon after the crime had been committed. It

was held at Tralee. Great crowds surrounded the house, but only a few

found entrance to the inquest room.

Immediately on opening the inquest, Orlando was called to tell his story.

Every eye was fixed upon him intently; every ear was strained as he

described his coming upon the isolated wagon and the dead man with the

reins in his hands. It is hard to say if all believed his story, but the

Coroner did, and Burlingame, his lawyer, also did.

Burlingame was present, not to defend Orlando, because it was not a

trial, but to watch his interests in the face of staggering

circumstantial evidence. To Burlingame's mind Orlando was not the man to

kill another by strangling him to death. It was not in keeping with his

character. It was too aboriginal.

The Coroner believed the story solely because Orlando's frankness and

straightforwardness filled him with confidence. Also men of rude sense,

like Jonas Billings, were willing to take bets, five to one, that Orlando

was innocent.

The Young Doctor had not an instant's doubt, but he could not at first

fix his suspicions in a likely quarter. He had examined the body, and

there were no marks save bruises at the throat. In his evidence he said

that enormous strength of hands had been necessary to kill so quickly,

for it was clear the attack was so overpowering that there was little

struggle.

The Coroner here interposed a question as to whether it would have been

possible for anyone but a man to commit the crime. At his words everybody

moved impatiently. It was certain he was referring to the absent wife.

The idea of Louise committing such a crime, or being able to commit it,

was ridiculous. The Coroner presently stated that he had only asked the

question so as to remove this possibility from consideration.

The Young Doctor immediately said that probably no woman in the

hemisphere could have committed the crime, which needed enormous strength

of hands.

The Coroner looked round the room. "The widow, Mrs. Mazarine, is not

here?" he said questioningly.

Nolan Doyle interposed. "Mrs. Mazarine is at my ranch. She came there

yesterday evening at eight o'clock and remained with my wife and myself

until twelve o'clock. The murder was committed before twelve o'clock.

Mrs. Mazarine does not even know that her husband is dead. She is not

well to-day, and we have kept the knowledge from her."

"Is she under medical care?" asked the Coroner. Nolan Doyle nodded

towards the Young Doctor, who said: "I saw Mrs. Mazarine at the house of

Mr. Doyle last evening between the hours of eight and ten o'clock. To-day

at noon also I visited her. She has a slight illness, and is not fit to

take part in these proceedings."

At this point, Scarsdale, who had come upon Orlando and the dead man at

the Cross Trails the night before, told his story. He did it with evident

reluctance.

He spoke with hesitation, yet firmly and straightforwardly. He described

how he saw Orlando climb down from the wagon where the dead man was. He

added, however, that he had seen no struggle of any kind, though he had

seen Orlando close to the corpse. Questioned by the Coroner, he described

the scenes between Orlando and Mazarine in the main street of Askatoon

and at the railway-station, both of which he had seen. He repeated

Orlando's threat to Mazarine.

He was pressed as to whether Orlando showed agitation at the Cross

Trails. He replied that Orlando seemed stunned but not agitated.

He was asked whether Orlando had shown the greater agitation at the Cross

Trails or in the town when he threatened Mazarine. The answer was that he

showed agitation only in the town. He was asked to repeat what Orlando

had said to him. This he did accurately.

He was then asked by counsel whether he had arrived at any conclusion,

when at the Cross Trails or afterwards, as to who committed the crime;

but the Coroner would not permit the question. The Coroner added that it

was only the duty of the witness to state what he had seen. Opinions were

not permissible as evidence. The facts were in possession of the Court,

and the Court could form its own judgment.

It was clear to everyone that the jury must return a verdict of wilful

murder, and it was equally clear that the evidence was sufficient to fix

suspicion upon Orlando, which must lead to his arrest. Two constables

were in close attendance, and were ready to take charge of the man who,

above all others, or so it was thought, had most reason to wish Mazarine

out of the way. Indeed, Orlando had resigned himself to the situation,

having realized how all the evidence was against him.

Recalling Orlando, the Coroner asked if it was the case that the death of

Mazarine might be an advantage to him in any way. Orlando replied that it

might be an advantage to him, but he was not sure. He added, however,

that if, as the Coroner seemed to suggest, he himself was under

suspicion, it ought to appear to all that to have murdered Mazarine in

the circumstances would have put in jeopardy any possible advantage. That

seemed logical enough, but it was presently pointed out to the Coroner

that the same consideration had existed when Orlando had threatened

Mazarine in the streets of Askatoon.

Presently the Coroner said: "There's a half-breed woman and a c******n,

servants of the late Mr. Mazarine. Have the woman called."

It was at this moment that the Young Doctor and Orlando also were

suddenly seized with a suspicion of their own. Orlando remembered how

Mazarine had horsewhipped and maltreated Li Choo. The Young Doctor fixed

his eyes intently on the body, and presently went to it again, raised the

beard and looked at the neck. Coming back to his place, he nodded to

himself. He had a clue. Now he understood about the enormous strength

which had killed Mazarine practically without a struggle. He had noticed

more than once the sinewy fingers of the c******n. As the inquest went

on, he had again and again looked at the hands and arms of Orlando, and

it had seemed impossible that, strong as he was, his fingers had the

particular strength which could have done this thing.

The Coroner stood waiting for Rada to come, when suddenly the door opened

and a c******n entered--one of the two who had appeared so strangely on

the scene the day before. He advanced to the Coroner with both hands

loosely hanging in the great sleeves of his blue padded coat, his eyes

blinking slowly underneath the brown forehead and the little black

skullcap, and after making salutation with his arms, in curious,

monotonous English with a quaint accent he said:

"Li Choo--Li Choo--he speak. He have to say. He send."

Holding up a piece of paper, he handed it to the Coroner and then stood

blinking and immobile.

A few moments afterwards, the Coroner said: "I have received this note

from Li Choo the c******n, sometime employed by the deceased Joel

Mazarine. I will read it to you." Slowly he read:

"I say gloddam. That Orlando he not kill Mazaline. I say gloddam

Mazaline. That Mazaline he Chlistian. He says Chlist his brother. Chlist

not save him when Li Choo's fingers had Mazaline's thloat. That gloddam

Mazaline I kill. That Mazaline kicked me, hit me with whip; where he

kick, I sick all time. I not sleep no more since then. That Louise, it no

good she stay with Mazaline. Confucius speak like this: 'Young woman go

to young man; young bird is for green leaves, not dry branch.' That

Louise good woman; that Orlando hell-fellow good. I kill

Mazaline--gloddam, with my hands I kill. You want know all why Li Choo

kill? You want kill Li Choo? You come!"

As the Coroner stopped reading, amid gasps of excitement, the Chinaman

who had brought the notewith brown skin polished like a kettle,

expressionless, save for the twinkling mystery of the brown eyesmade

three motions of obeisance up and down with his hands clasped in the

great sleeves, and then said:

"He not come you; you come him. He gleat man. He speak all--come. I show

where."

"Where is he?" asked the Coroner.

The c******n did not reply for a moment. Then he said: "He sacrifice

before you take him. He gleat man--come." He slip-slopped towards the

door as though confident he would be followed.

Two minutes afterwards the Coroner, Orlando, the Young Doctor, Nolan

Doyle and the rest stood at the low doorway of what looked like a great

grave. It was, however, a big root-house used for storing vegetables in

the winter-time. It had not been used since Mazarine arrived at Tralee.

Into this place, nor far from the house, Li Choo and his two fellow

countrymen had gone the day before, when Mazarine, in his rage, had come

forth with the horsewhip to punish the "Chinky," as Li Choo was

familiarly known on the ranch.

As they arrived at the vault-like place in the ground, which would hold

many tons of roots, another c******n came to the doorway. He was one of

the two who, in their sudden coming and going, had seemed like magic

people to Mazarine the day before. He made upward and downward motions of

respect with clasped hands in the blue sleeves, and presently, in perfect

English, he said:

"In one minute Li Choo will receive you. It is the moment of sacrifice.

You wish him to die for the death of Mazarine. So be it. It is right for

him to die. You will hang him; that is your law. He will not prevent you.

He has told the truth, but he is making the sacrifice. When that is done

you will enter and take him to prison."

The two constables standing beside the Coroner made a move forward, as

though to show they meant to enforce the law without any palaver.

The c******n raised the palms of both hands at them. "Not yet," he said.

Then he looked at the Coroner. "You are master. Will you not prevent

them?"

The Coroner motioned the constables back. "All right," he said. "You seem

to speak good English."

"I come from England-from Oxford University," answered the c******n with

dignity. "I have learned English for many years. I am the son of Duke Ki.

I came to see my uncle, the brother of Duke Ki. He is making sacrifice

before you take him."

"Well, I'm blasted," said Jonas Billings from the crowd. "Chinese dukes,

eh! What's it all about?"

"Reg'lar hocus-pocus," remarked the vagabond brother of Rigby the

chemist.

At that moment little coloured lights suddenly showed in the darkness of

the root-house, and there was the tinkling of a bell. Then a voice seemed

calling, but softly, with a long, monotonous, thrilling note.

"Many may not come," said the c******n at the door to the Coroner, as he

turned and entered the low doorway.

A minute afterwards the two constables held back the crowd from the

doorway of the root-house, from the threshold of which a few wooden steps

descended to the ground inside.

A strange sight greeted the eyes of those permitted to enter.

The root-house had been transformed. What had been a semi-underground

place composed of scantlings, branches of trees and mother earth, with a

kind of vaulted roof, had been made into a sort of Chinese temple. All

round the walls were hung curtains of black and yellow, decorated with

dragons in gold, and above, suspended by cords at the four corners, was a

rug or banner of white ornamented with a great tortoise--the sacred

animal of Chinese religion--with gold eyes and claws. All round the side

of the room were set coloured lights, shaded and dim. Coming from the

bright outer sunlight, the place in its shadowed state seemed

half-sepulchral.

When the Coroner, Orlando, the Young Doctor and the others had accustomed

themselves to the dimness, they saw at the end of the chamber--for such,

in effect, it had been made with its trappings and decorations--a figure

seated upon the ground. Near by the figure, on either hand, there were

standards bearing banners, and the staffs holding the banners were, bound

in white silk, with long streamers hanging down. Half enclosing the

banners were fanlike screens. Along the walls also were flags with

toothed edges. The figure was seated on a mat of fine bamboo in the midst

of this strange scheme of decoration. Behind him, and drawn straight

across the chamber, was a sheet of fine white cloth, embroidered with

strange designs. He was clothed in a rich jacket of blue, and a pair of

sandal-like shoes was placed neatly in front of the bamboo mat. On either

side and in front of all, raised a little from the ground, were bowls or

calabashes containing fruit, grain and dried and pickled meats. It was

all orderly, circumspect, weird, and even stately though the place was

small. Finally, in front of the motionless figure was a tiny brazier in

which was a small fire.

Before the spectators had taken in the whole picture, the c******n who

had entered with them came and stood on the right of the space occupied

by the mat, near to the banners and the screens, and under a yellow light

which hung from the vaulted roof.

The figure on the fine bamboo mat was Li Choo, but not the Li Choo which

Tralee and Askatoon had known. He was seated with legs crossed in

Oriental fashion and with head slightly bowed. His face was calm and

dignified. It had an impassiveness which made an interminable distance

between him and those who had till now looked upon him as a poor Chinky,

doing a roustabout's work on a ranch, the handy-man, the

Jack-of-all-trades. Yet in spite of the menial work which he had done, it

was now to be seen that the despised Li Choo had still lived his own

life, removed by centuries and innumerable leagues from his daily

slavery.

As they looked at him, brooding, immobile, strange, he lifted his head,

and the excessive brightness of his black eyes struck with a sense of awe

all who saw. It was absurd that Li Choo, the hireling, "Yellowphiz," as

he had also been called, should here command a situation with the

authority of one who ruled.

Presently he spoke, not in broken English, but in Chinese. It was

interpreted by the c******n standing on the right by the screens, in well

cadenced, cultured English.

"I have to tell you," said Li Choo--the other's voice repeated the words

after him--"that I am the son of greatness, of a ruler in my own land. It

was by the Yang-tze-kiang, and there were riches and pleasant things in

the days of my youth. In the hunt, at the tavern, I was first amongst

them all. I had great strength. I once killed a bear with my bare hands.

My hands had fame.

"I had office in the city where my cousin ruled. He was a bad man, and

was soon forgotten, though his children mourn for him as is the custom. I

killed him. He gave counsel concerning the city when there was war, but

his counsel was that of a traitor, and the city was lost. Now behold, it

is written that he who has given counsel about the country or its capital

should perish with it when it comes into peril. He would not die--so I

killed him; but not before he had heaped upon me baseness and shame. So I

killed him.

"Yet it is written that when a minister kills his ruler, all who are in

office with him shall without mercy kill him who did the deed. That is

the law. It was the word of the Son of Heaven that this should be. But

those who were in office with me would not kill me, because they approved

of what I did. Yet they must kill me, since it was the law. What was

there to do but in the night to flee, so that they who should kill me

might not obey the law? Had I remained, and they had not obeyed the law,

they also would have been slain."

He paused for a moment and then went on. "So I fled, and it is many years

since by the Yang-tze-kiang I killed my ruler and saved my friends. Yet I

had not been faithful to the ancient law, and so through the long years I

have done low work among a low people. This was for atonement, for long

ago by the Yang-tzekiang I should have died, and behold, I have lived

until now. To save my friends from the pain of killing me I fled and

lived; but at last here at this place I said to myself that I must die.

So, secretly, I made this cellar into a temple.

"That was a year ago, and I sent to my brother the Duke Ki to speak to

him what was in my mind, so that he might send my kinsmen to me, that

when I came to die, it should be after the manner ordained by the Son of

Heaven; that my body should be clothed according to the ancient rites by

my own people, my mouth filled with rice, and the meats, and grains and

fruits of sacrifice be placed on a mat at the east of my body when I

died; that the curtain should be hung before my corpse; that I should be

laid upon a mat of fine bamboo, and dressed, and prepared for my grave,

and put into a noble coffin as becomes a superior man. Did not the Son of

Heaven say that we speak of the end of a superior man, but we speak of

the death of a small man? I was a superior man, but I have lived as a

small man these many days; and now, behold, I am drawing near to my end

as a superior man.

"I wished that nothing should be forgotten; that all should be done when

I, of the house of the Duke Ki, came to my superior end. So, these my

kinsmen came, these of my family, to be with me at my going, to call my

spirit back from the roof-top with face turned to the north, to leap

before my death-mat, to wail and bare the shoulders and bind the

sackcloth about the head.

"I have served among the low people doing low things, and now I would

die, but in the correct way. Once to the listeners Confucius said: 'The

great mountain must crumble; the strong beam must break; the wise man

must wither away like a plant.' So it is. It is my duty to go to my end,

for the time is far spent, and I should do what my friends must have done

had I stayed in my ancestral city."

Again he paused, and now he rocked his body backwards and forwards for a

moment; then presently he continued: "Yet I would not go without doing

good. There should be some act among the low people by which I should be

remembered. So, once again, I killed a man. He could not withstand the

strength of my fingers--they were like steel upon his throat. As a young

man my fingers were like those of three men.

"Shall a man treat his wife as she, Louise, was treated? Shall a man

raise his hand against his wife, and live? also, was he to live--the low

man--that struck a high man like me with his hands, with the whip, with

his feet, stamping upon me on the ground? Was that to be, and he live?

Were the young that should have but one nest to be parted, to have only

sorrow, if Joel lived? So I killed him with my hands" (he slightly raised

his clasped hands, as though to emphasize what he said, but the gesture

was grave and quiet)"--so I killed him, and so I must die.

"It was the duty of my friends to kill me by the Yang-tze-kiang. It is

your duty, you of the low people, to kill me who has killed a low man;

but my friends by the Yang-tze-kiang were glad that the ruler died, and

you of the low people are glad that Joel is dead. Yet it is your duty to

kill me. . . . But it shall not be."

He quickly reached out his hands and drew the burning brazier close to

his feet; then, suddenly, from a sleeve of his robe he took a little box

of the sacred tortoise-shell, pressed his lips to it, opened it, poured

its contents upon the flame, leaned over with his face close to the

brazier and inhaled the little puff of smoke that came from it.

So for a few seconds--and then he raised himself and sat still with eyes

closed and hands clasped in his long sleeves. Presently his head fell

forward on his breast.

A pungent smell passed through the chamber. It produced for the moment

dizziness in all present. Then the sensation cleared away. The Chinaman

at the right of Li Choo looked steadfastly at him; then, all at once, he

bared his shoulders and quickly bound a piece of sackcloth round his

head. This done, he raised his voice and cried out with a monotonous

ululation, and at once a second voice cried out in a long wailing call.

Outside Li Choo's kinsman, with his face turned to the north, was calling

his spirit back, though he knew it would not come.

At the first sound of the voice crying outside, the c******n beside Li

Choo leaped thrice in front of the brazier, the mat and the moveless

body.

At that moment the Young Doctor came forward. He who had leaped stood

between him and the body of Li Choo.

"You must not come. Li Choo, the superior man, is dead," he protested.

"I am a doctor," was the reply. "If he is dead, the law will not touch

him, and you shall be alone with him, but the law must know that he is

dead. That is the way that prevails among the 'low people,'" he added

ironically.

The c******n stood aside, and the Young Doctor stooped, felt the pulse,

touched the heart and lifted up the head and looked into Li Choo's

sightless eyes.

"He is dead," he said, and he came back again to the Coroner and the

others. "Let's get out of this," he added. "He is beyond our reach now.

No need for an inquest here. He has killed himself." Then he caught

Orlando's hand in a warm grip.

As they left the chamber, the kinsman of Li Choo was gently laying the

body down upon the bamboo mat. At the doorway the other son of the Duke

Ki was still monotonously calling back the departed spirit.

The inquest on Joel Mazarine was ended presently, and Nolan Doyle and the

Young Doctor set out to tell Louise that a "low man," once her husband,

had paid a high price for all that he had bought of the fruits of life

out of due season.