The Chinese Orange Mystery

“Except for a maid¯Cockney. Looks funny to me. Anyway, Irene struck up an acquaintance with Donald Kirk¯don’t know just how she managed it, but she did it in short order¯and they got pretty chummy. She posed as a sort of globe-trotter who’d had plenty of experiences in queer places¯”

“Scarcely a pose, I should judge from Trench’s cable.”

“I guess not,” said the Inspector grimly. “Anyway, the gag seems to have been that she had had a lot of experiences that were just crying to be put into print¯travel stuff in faraway places, reminiscences of pretty famous people¯she’d spent a lot of time in Geneva, for instance¯something like that. So she was thinking of writing a book about it all. Well, you know these young publishers. Kirk’s got a sound head on his shoulders and all that, from what I hear, but this dame is beautiful and she has a smooth line, and¯well, I guess he fell for it.”

“Or her,” suggested Ellery.

“It’s a toss-up which one. I’d say not, judging from the googoo eyes he’s been making at this Temple girl.”

“But Jo Temple unfortunately came after Miss Llewes,” murmured Ellery. “By that time, perhaps, the damage¯if there is any¯was done. Go on; you excite me strangely.”

“Anyway, they began to talk this ‘book’ over. Kirk began to have ‘conferences’ with her at odd hours.”

“Where?”

“In her suite at the Chancellor.”

“Unchaperoned?”

“Pul-ease, Mr. Queen!” The Inspector grinned lasciviously. “What d’ye think this is, Old Home Week? Sure! And that maid¯she’s the one that gave Thomas all the dope¯is ready to testify to goings-on.”

Ellery raised his eyebrows. “Goings-on? Kirk and the Llewes wench?”

“Put your own construction to it,” snickered the Inspector. “I’m a pure-minded old cuss who always believes the best of everybody. But at night with a raving beauty in the kind of clothes she wears, or rather doesn’t wear . . . “ He shook his head. “And, after all, this Kirk lad is young and he looks normally lusty to me. He began to take her around to parties and he introduced her to all his friends and to his family¯regular tea-party, it was. Then came the dawn.”

“Meaning?”

“The dawn,” repeated the Inspector dreamily. “He woke up, I guess. Got tired of playing tiddledywinks, or whatever the hell it was he was playing. Anyway, he started to try to avoid her. Well, fawncy that. What d’ye think happened? The usual thing. She hung on with that damn’ smile of hers. I’ll bet she hangs pretty!”

“It’s not difficult to see what must have happened,” said Ellery thoughtfully, “and I suppose you yourself could see it if you’d stop playing the vicarious satyr¯which is sheerest pose, my dear pater, as only I can know¯and get back to normal. When Jo Temple appeared on the scene young Donald must have suffered a complete change of heart. From the tender and slightly unorthodox love-scene I inadvertently blundered into with Macgowan three days ago he fell in love with her on the spot. Naturally, exit Miss Llewes as far as young Lothario is concerned. And Miss Llewes¯who’s playing a deep and dirty game¯pleasantly refuses to exit. Result¯Mr. Kirk has headaches and goes about with a Help!-the-tigress-is-after-me sort of look on his honest young pan.”

“This Sewell woman has a hold on him, I’m positive,” said the Inspector. “A hold he can’t wriggle out of. He’s in a tough spot. And then if she’s trying to bleed him . . . Say, he is in a tough spot! Or do you think he’s strapped financially because he’s been paying her heavy sugar for blackmail?”

“It’s possible that that may have contributed, dad, although I feel sure his financial troubles antedated the advent of Miss Llewes. I know one thing now, however, which was dark mystery before.”

“Well?”

“The secret of that scribbled message Glenn Macgowan left for Kirk the evening of the murder. Remember what it said? ‘I know now. You’re dealing with a dangerous character. Go easy until I can talk to you aside. Don, watch your step.’”

“Maybe,” grumbled the Inspector. “I was half-hoping Macgowan was referring to our fat little corp-us.”

“No, no, I’m sure that’s not the case. Macgowan obviously was suspicious of the Llewes woman from the beginning¯he’s a shrewd chap, Macgowan, and with his strong streak of moral rectitude would probably have been suspicious of such a dazzling worldly creature under any circumstances . . . .”

“Macgowan?” said the Inspector dubiously. “Never struck me that way. I thought he’s sort of a regular guy.”

“Oh, he’s regular enough; but there are some things one can’t live down, and one of them is a moral streak. His family burned witches in Salem Town. I don’t mean that Macgowan’s above affairs of the flesh, to put it politely; but he is above¯or below¯the notoriety and scandal that sometimes result from them. It’s a pragmatic morality.”

“All right, all right; I give up. So what?”