The Chinese Orange Mystery

“What I mean or think, dear lady, is inconsequential. I’m just a cog in the machine.”

“But it happened so long ago¯years ago,” she faltered. “I assure you there wasn’t¯there couldn’t be the slightest connection between the name and the¯”

“That remains to be seen. Now, Miss Llewes, to get down to business. I’ve found those letters and the copy of the certificate. It’s unnecessary for me to point out that your little game has been played, and that you’ve lost.”

“Possession of those¯isn’t documents the technical word, Mr. Queen?” she murmured with a sudden sparkle in her eyes¯”merely establishes the proofs, you know. But you can’t eradicate from my brain the knowledge of what happened, you see. And it’s quite evident that Mr. Donald Kirk is anxious that I keep quiet. What do you say to that?”

“Awakening resistance,” chuckled Ellery. “Wrong again, my dear. Your word¯the word of a woman with a long criminal record¯wouldn’t stand for an instant against mine if I should testify that I found these papers in your possession. And Kirk, knowing you no longer possess them, will be willing to testify in his turn that you blackmailed him. So¯”

“Oh,” smiled the woman, rising and stretching her long white arms, “but he won’t, d’ye see, Mr. Queen.”

“Resistance stretches. I apologize for the accusation of stupidity. You mean, I presume, that with or without the papers in your possession, Kirk’s only concern is to keep you silent, and that if it came to a matter of arrest and trial he couldn’t prevent your telling the story in open court?”

“How clever you are, Mr. Queen.”

“Now, now, no flattery. But let me point out in rebuttal,” said Ellery dryly, “that if it does come to a showdown in court, the story must come out anyway. And since it must come out and Kirk will be powerless to prevent its coming out, he’ll testify against you with a grim and enthusiastic vengeance, my dear, that will put that fetching body of yours behind bars¯ugly American bars¯for years and years and years. And what do you say to that, Irene?”

“Am I to understand,” she murmured, coming closer to him, “that you’re proposing an entente, a conspiracy of silence, Mr. Queen? That you won’t prosecute in return for my silence?”

Ellery bowed. “I beg forgiveness again; I underestimated the acuteness of your perceptions. Precisely what I’m proposing . . . . And please don’t come any nearer, my dear, because while I can exercise stern self-control on occasion, this is not one of the occasions. I’m still human. At two o’clock in the morning my moral resistance is at its lowest ebb.”

“I could like you¯very much, Mr. Queen.”

Ellery sighed and hastily retreated a step. “Ah, the Mae West influence. Dear, dear! And I’ve always said that the Hammetts and the Whitfields are wrong in their demonstrated belief that a detective has countless opportunities for indulging his sex appeal. Another credo blasted . . . . Then it’s agreed, Miss Llewes?”

She regarded him coolly. “Agreed. And I have been a fool.”

“A fascinating fool, at any rate. Poor Kirk! He must have had the very devil of a time with you. By the way,” murmured Ellery, and his eyes belied the smile on his lips, “how well did you know that man?”

“What man?”

“The Parisian.”

“Oh!” Her mask slipped on. “Not very well.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“Once. But he was unshaven¯wore a beard, in fact. And he was foully drunk when he sold me the letters. I met him only when the letters and money changed hands. For an instant. All previous negotiations had been conducted by letter.”

“Hmm. You saw the face of the corpse, Miss Llewes, upstairs the other day.” Ellery paused. Then he continued slowly: “Could the man from Paris have been the man murdered upstairs?”

She stepped back, dazed. “You mean¯that little . . . Good heavens!”

“Well?”

“I don’t know,” she said hurriedly, biting her lips. “I don’t know. It’s so hard to say. Without the beard . . . It was a bushy beard that concealed most of his features. And he was horribly seedy and dirty, a wreck. But it’s possible . . . .”

“Ah,” frowned Ellery. “I’d hoped for a surer identification. You can’t be certain?”

. “No,” she murmured in a thoughtful tone, “I can’t be certain, Mr. Queen.”

‘Then I’ll bid you good night and pleasant dreams.” Ellery snatched up his coat and wriggled into it. The woman was still thoughtful, standing in the middle of the room lilce a draped tree. “Oh, yes! I knew I’d forgotten something.”

“Forgotten something?”

Ellery walked over to the chaise-longue and picked up the brown-paper package. “Donald Kirk’s precious antiques. Dear, dear! It would have been a beastly oversight to leave without them.”

The color ebbed out of her face. “Do you mean to say,” she demanded in a furious voice, “that you’re taking those, too? You¯you brigand!”

“Lovely, my dear. Anger becomes you. But surely you didn’t think I’d leave them in your care?”