The Chinese Orange Mystery

Ellery found himself seated at the long oval table between Kirk, at his right, and Miss Temple. Diagonally across from him sat Berne, a scowl on his intelligent face. Marcella and Macgowan were neighbors; and Miss Llewes · and Dr. Kirk, who sat at the head of the table. Of the eight only Miss Llewes and Dr. Kirk were gay. The old gentleman’s angular torso, assisted into the chair by Miss Diversey who had then vanished, genuflected toward his companion with all the rusty vigor of an ancient cavalier. His frosty eyes were no longer frosty; they sparkled with a youthful warmth, bathed in curious lights.

The woman, decided Ellery, was an enigma. She laughed throatily, showing brilliant white teeth; she murmured behind her hand to the old man; she accepted his chuckling sallies with a nonchalant grace that spoke long practice . . . and yet there was something essentially mirthless in her expression and her eyes never lost their wary gleam. Why was she there? That she was a semi-permanent resident of the Chancellor Ellery had learned; she had checked in from nowhere two months before. From the conversation he was able, too, to deduce that before her arrival at the Chancellor she had been unknown to the Kirks; and Berne apparently was meeting her for the first time. She was not native New York, of that he felt certain; there was a Continental air about her, and she spoke glibly of Cannes and Vienna and Cap d’Antibes and the Blue Grotto and Fiesole.

He contented himself with watching her enamelled face and Kirk’s. The young man was horribly uneasy. He could scarcely keep his eyes off his father.

And at Ellery’s left tiny Miss Temple ate quietly, her long black lashes concealing her eyes.

For a long time no one mentioned the murder. For the most part the dinner was uncompanionable.

* * *

Before dinner Felix Berne had made a superficial excuse¯an unembroi-dered apology. He had “been detained”; he was “sorry.” He had landed that very morning, it appeared, and “personal affairs” had occupied him “all day.” Toward Miss Temple he was neither cold nor cordial: she had been a discovery of Donald Kirk’s. Never having met her before and not having read her manuscript, he seemed cynically content to place the burden of critical proof upon his partner’s shoulders.

But over the soup Berne suddenly burst into bitter speech. “I don’t know why every one’s so silent about that ghastly business across the corridor. Why the mystery, Donald? I was stopped at the elevators on this floor by some stupid flatfoot and subjected to the most humiliating cross-examination.”

All conversation abruptly ceased. The warm light fled Dr. Kirk’s eye; Miss Llewes became rigid; Jo Temple’s lashes curled up; Macgowan frowned; Marcella bit her lip; Donald Kirk became very pale; and Ellery felt his muscles tense.

“Why talk about it?” muttered Kirk. “It’s spoiled the evening already, Felix. I’m sorry if¯”

Berne’s black eyes flicked around the table. “There’s something more to this than meets the eye. Why did that irritating little Inspector insist on dragging me into that anteroom of yours and uncovering a basket and showing me the beatific face of a dead man?”

“He did-that?” faltered Marcella.

Ellery said lightly: “That irritating little Inspector, Mr. Berne, happens to be my father. I shouldn’t condemn him, you know, for doing his duty. He’s trying to identify the body.”

The black eyes gleamed with interest. “Ah! I beg your pardon, Mr. Queen. I hadn’t caught your father’s name. Identify the body? Then the man’s unknown as yet?”

“Nobody knows who he is,” growled Dr. Kirk with a grumpy look, squirming in his chair, “and what’s more nobody cares. At least I do not. Come, come, Felix! This is scarcely post-hors d’ceuvres conversation.”

“I really can’t agree with you, Doctor,” murmured Miss Llewes. “I find it thrilling.”

“You,” Ellery heard the tiny woman at his left breathe, “would.” But no one else heard.

“I daresay Miss Llewes and I,” said Berne with a grim smile, “have the Continental attitude toward such things¯a lack of squeamishness. Eh, Miss Llewes? Under the circumstances, Mr. Queen, I’m really sorry I wasn’t able to render more assistance. The man was a stranger to me.”

“Well,” grinned Ellery, “you have company.”

There was an interval of silence. Hotel waiters removed the soup plates.

Then Berne said quietly: “I take it you’ve a¯professional interest in this case, Mr. Queen?”

“More or less. I generally dawdle about the fringes, Mr. Berne. I find homicides quite stimulating.”

“A curious taste,” snapped Dr. Kirk.

“Nor can I say, Mr. Queen,” murmured Miss Temple, “that I share your tastes in stimulation, either.” She shivered a little. “I still retain an Occidental aversion to death. My friends the Chinese would appreciate your attitude.”

Ellery regarded her with a slow dawning of interest. “Your friends the Chinese? Ah, yes. Stupid of me. I’d quite forgotten. You’ve lived in China most of your life, haven’t you?”