The Chinese Orange Mystery

“No. Thank heaven they spared my Chinese manuscripts, the vandals. I should feel utterly lost¯”

“Ah,” said Ellery. “Chinese manuscripts? You’re familiar with the language of the ideographs, of course. I remember now. Yes, yes, your philological fame has reached even these mortal ears, Doctor. Well, well . . . . Quite vanished, eh?” Ellery went to the shelf and looked down. But his eyes were not on the empty boards. They were drawn within themselves and shining with a distant light.

“I can’t understand why any one should want to steal those books,” said Donald with a weary shake of his head. “Lord, cataclysms come in pairs! What the devil do you make of it, Queen?”

Ellery turned slowly. “I make a good deal of it, old fellow, mostly fog. By the way, Doctor, these books of yours are valuable?”

“Bah! They’re worthless to any one but a scholar.”

“Very interesting . . . . You see, Kirk, there’s one really remarkable thing about Hebrew books.”

Dr. Kirk stared, interested despite himself. Jo Temple watched quietly the set of Ellery’s lips¯quietly and yet with a sort of controlled apprehension, as if she were afraid of what they might say.

“Remarkable?” said Kirk, bewildered.

“Quite. For Hebrew is an unorthodox language. Chirographically and typographically. It is written backwards.”

“Backwards?” gasped Miss Diversey. “Oh, sir, that’s¯”

“It is written,” muttered Ellery, “backwards. It’s read backwards. It’s printed backwards. Everything about it is precisely the reverse of the Romance languages. Is that correct, Doctor?”

“Certainly it’s correct!” snarled the old gentleman. “And why restrict its difference to the Romance? And why in the name of the seven bulls of Bashan should that startle you?”

“Well,” said Ellery apologetically, “the crime was backwards, you see.”

“Oh, heaven protect the lowly scholar,” groaned Dr. Kirk. “And what the devil of it? I want my books back. You and your backwardnesses!” He paused, and a fiery gleam sprang into his dried-out eyes. “Look here, idiot, are you accusing me of that inconsequential little homicide?”

“I’m accusing no one,” said Ellery. “But you can’t deny that it’s very odd under the circumstances.”

“So’s your hat,” snarled Dr. Kirk. “Get my books back!”

Ellery sighed and grasped his stick firmly. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but at the moment I can see no way of restoring your volumes. You might telephone my father¯Inspector Queen¯at Police Headquarters and inform him of this latest development . . . . Miss Temple.”

She started. “Yes, Mr. Queen?”

“I’m sure we’ll be excused for a moment.” They were stared at as Ellery drew the tiny woman out into the corridor and closed the door securely behind them. “Why didn’t you mention it before, O Lotus Blossom?”

“Mention what, Mr. Queen?”

“I’ve just recalled it myself. Why didn’t you mention the fact that one of the outstanding examples of backwardness in the whole Chinese gamut is¯the Chinese language?”

“Language? Oh!” She smiled faintly. “You’re such a suspicious person, Mr. Queen. I just didn’t think of it. You mean of course that, aside from Hebrew, Chinese is probably the only language in the world which is printed backwards; and it’s written from top to bottom instead of from side to side, besides. But what of it?”

“Nothing¯except that,” murmured Ellery, “you failed to mention it.”

She stamped her foot. “Oh, you’re as bad as the others! Is there something in the air here that makes people silly? Every one except Donald Kirk seems afflicted with a mild insanity; and even he¯And suppose I didn’t mention it? You can’t say it has any significance here, anyway. You notice that the thief didn’t steal Dr. Kirk’s Chinese books!”

“That,” said Ellery with a frown, “is what’s bothering me. Why? An oversight with cosmic implications. Or perhaps I’m making a mountain out of the well-known molehill. At any rate, this thing needs the application of thought . . . . China, China, China! I’m beginning to wish I had a Charlie Chan on the scene to clarify these esoteric mysteries of Orientalism. I’m completely bewildered. Nothing makes sense, nothing at all. This is the world’s most mystifying crime.”

“I wish,” said Jo with lowered eyes, “I could help you, indeed I do.”

“Hmm,” said Ellery. “Well, thank you, Miss Temple.” He seized her hand and pumped it. “Things could always be worse. And perhaps they will be. For God knows what will turn out backwards tomorrow!”

Chapter 9. FOOCHOW ERROR

Djuna, the Queens’ boy-of-all-work, thrust his olive and hatchety young face into the bedroom the next morning. “Why, Mr. Ellery!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know you’d got up!”