The Chinese Orange Mystery

Macgowan touched his friend’s arm. “Quiet, Don. It’s really better this way. Queen’s right.”

“Indeed he is,” murmured Miss Temple cheerfully. “My father, who as I’ve said on other occasions was in the American diplomatic service in China, was also¯something I neglected to mention to any one but Mr. Kirk, since he seemed the only one interested¯a small collector of sorts. Nothing showy, like Donald or Mr. Macgowan. He hadn’t enough income to go in for really expensive things, you see.”

“Jo, don’t you think¯”

“No, Donald. It may as well come out now. I can’t see that it will help matters to suppress it. And since I’m a babe in the woods, I’m sure justice will¯er¯triumph.” She grinned elfishly, and even Kirk smiled in response. “Father picked up a stamp in Foochow years and years ago from some furtive little Eurasian or other¯I never did get straight how the creature had got hold of the stamp. I suppose he was in the local postal service. At any rate, father bought the stamp for a ridiculously small price, and it was in his collection until he died.”

“Lord, what luck!” cried Macgowan, his eyes shining.

“And other collectors didn’t know he had it?” asked Ellery.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think any one did, Mr. Queen. Father didn’t know many collectors, and after a while he lost most of his interest in his own collection . . . . It just mouldered away in our attic. I remember my amah used to speak to me reproachfully about it.”

“Imagine that/’ muttered Macgowan. “That’s the way the great rarities are lost. Lord, that’s¯that’s almost criminal negligencel I beg your pardon, Miss Temple.”

“Oh, it’s all right, Mr. Macgowan,” said Jo with a sigh. “I suppose it was. When father died I sold most of the collection¯it didn’t bring much, but I needed money, you see. Somehow, though, I couldn’t bring myself to sell the Foochow. It was the only item that father ever talked about with anything like enthusiasm, and I¯I suppose I held on to it out of silly sentiment.”

“To whom,” demanded Ellery, “did you sell the others?”

“Oh, to some dealer in Peking. I forget his name.”

“Tso Lin?” asked Macgowan curiously.

“I believe that was the one. Why, do you know him?”

“I’ve corresponded with him. Perfectly honest Chinaman, Queen.”

“Hmm. You didn’t tell him about the Foochow, Miss Temple?”

She frowned prettily. “I don’t think so. At any rate, when I began to correspond with Mr. Kirk about my literary plans, somehow it came out that¯well, he can tell you about that.”

Kirk said eagerly: “It all came about very naturally, Queen. I happened to write once that I collected Chinese stamps, and Miss Temple wrote me about her father’s Foochow. I was enormously interested, of course and¯” his face darkened¯”I was a little better off financially than I am now. While the Foochow, being a local, wasn’t in my line, it sounded so extraordinary that I decided I must have it. To make a long story short, I persuaded Miss Temple to part with it.”

“It wasn’t so hard,” said the tiny woman softly. “I realized that I was selfish to hold on to it, since I’ve not the faintest interest in philately. I suppose I share the usual feminine stupidity about such things. And then, too, I needed money badly. Mr. Kirk offered such an unbelievable sum for it that at first I was suspicious¯thought he had sinister designs on the unsophisticated girl from China.”

“But then,” grinned Ellery, “I suppose his honest letters turned the tide. Well! How much did you pay Miss Temple for it, Kirk?”

“Ten thousand. It’s worth it. Isn’t it, Glenn?”

Macgowan started slightly out of a reverie. “Oh, unquestionably, or I shouldn’t have bought it.”

“And that’s all,” sighed Miss Temple. “Now do you see, Mr. Queen? Perfectly innocent story, and I’m sure your suspicions are all banished; aren’t they, Mr. Queen?”

“A plethora of Mr. Queens, Miss Temple,” said Ellery, rising with a smile, “but it would seem so, wouldn’t it? By the way, didn’t it occur to you, either, after the crime that there was something backwards about the stamp?”

“I do believe,” said Jo ruefully, “that I completely forgot the whole thing. You can’t remember everything, you know.”

“I suppose not,” drawled Ellery. “Especially the important things. Well, good day to you all; I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time as well as mine. Don’t worry, Macgowan; as they say in Silver Gulch, ‘It all comes out in the wash.’”

“Ha, ha,” said Macgowan.

“Well,” grinned Ellery, “at least that was appreciation. Good-bye.”

When Hubbell had let him out of the Kirk apartment, Mr. Ellery Queen seemed neither in an unsuspicious temper nor of a disposition to depart. He stood still in the corridor, musing and frowning and chewing a mental cud that apparently offered stubborn resistance.

“Damned funny business, all of it,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll be switched if I can see light anywhere.”