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need for Jianxu to marry Geng Wenbo also.’
    I was about to query Lin on his use of the expression ‘old’ in relation to Geng, but his raised eyebrow indicated to me that he would explain everything in time, and I needn’t interrupt again. I slumped back on to my own cushion and picked a pear off the low table at my side. Biting into it, I sucked up the juice noisily.
    â€˜Old Geng is how he is called in Pianfu – P’ing-Yang-Fu – by his neighbours it seems. It is not a term of endearment, but accurate nevertheless. He is in his seventieth year. Or should I say he was, for he is our victim and therefore dead. Jianxu’s victim, if we are to believe the paperwork.’
    He patted the pile of documents on the table then passed me a linen napkin.
    â€˜Wipe your chin, Nick. I know a demon like Zhong Kui need have no manners, but I am determined to teach you some so you can carry them back to the barbarian West when you go.’
    I laughed ironically.
    â€˜If I go back. It seems I am not my own master any more, but the slave of Kubilai Khan. It is he who will decide if and when I can return to Venice.’ I was angered by the thought, but I wiped my chin as bidden. ‘But then his and my wishes coincide at the moment. I have no desire to return as yet. I am having too much fun.’
    What I said was not entirely true. I yearned every day to return to La Serenissima, and Caterina Dolfin. But I had left under the cloud of an accusation of murder, and my safety, if I did return, was uncertain. I finished the pear, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. Lin winced at the crudeness of my action, and continued.
    â€˜Anyway, the question of Jianxu’s marriage to Wenbo became irrelevant a few days after the proposal was made. The old man suddenly upped and died. The details are unsavoury, so I shall not go into them now – you can read them for yourself.’ He waved at the pile of documents to indicate that the full gruesomeness of Old Geng’s death was recorded in detail somewhere in the heap. Lin did not like dwelling on the nastier aspects of death.
    â€˜Suffice it to say that poisoning was the clear cause, and on her being examined, Jianxu confessed.’
    I started up from my cushion.
    â€˜Confessed? You did not say that before. Then why are we even going to P’ing-Yang-Fu? And who petitioned the Khan for a re-examination of the case, if she admitted she did it?’
    â€˜Calm down, my little demon. Confession is part of the legal process in Cathay. Criminal law has a moral purpose in ensuring the guilty not only are caught, but that they repent and see the error of their ways. A person cannot be convicted unless he – or she – confesses.’ Lin pulled a face, turning slightly away from me. ‘Sometimes extreme measures are required to extract a confession.’
    I stared at him in disbelief.
    â€˜You mean torture? So Jianxu will have been tortured in order to get her to confess to the crime that she may not have been guilty of committing?’
    Lin calmly turned his face back to me.
    â€˜Do not you have the same procedures in your world? I have met priests such as Friar Alberoni who tell me that torture is a normal procedure for Westerners too.’
    It was my turn to look away, embarrassed by his retort. Of course he was right. The Church was prone to use torture on heretics to induce repentance. And in cases of treason, a man might be tortured to extract names of accomplices. But to torture a young woman merely to obtain evidence? I thought that was plain wrong, and I tried to make my point.
    â€˜Yes, but in most cases in the West, what is called half-proof is needed before proceeding. That means there must be some initial evidence of guilt before torture is applied. Where was the proof that this girl may have murdered the old man?’
    Lin pointed to the papers on the table again.
    â€˜Read these, and tell me what you