The Chinese Orange Mystery

“But then I have nothing left¯nothing!” She was almost sobbing in her rage. “All these weeks, months. The expense . . . I’ll tell the whole story! I’ll call in the press! I’ll splatter that story all over the worldl”

“And spend the best part of the remainder of your life behind cold gray walls, in a narrow cell, and with coarse¯I assure you it’s unreasonably coarse¯cotton underwear next to your skin?” Ellery shook his head sadly. “I think not. You’re about thirty-five now, I should say¯”

“Thirty-one, you beast!”

“I beg your pardon. Thirty-one. When you’re out you’ll be¯let’s see¯Well, in your case, considering the plenitude of your dossier, you should get¯”

She flung herself on the chaise-longue, panting. “Oh, get out of here!” she screamed. “Get out! Or I’ll tear your eyes out!”

“Heavens, you’ll wake the neighbors,” said Ellery with horror; and then he smiled and bowed and went away with the package under his arm.

* * *

He startled the night-clerk at the desk in the lobby of the Chancellor by reaching for one of the house-telephones.

“Here, man!” cried the night-clerk. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know it’s almost half-past two?”

“Police,” said Ellery portentously, and the man fell back, gaping. Ellery murmured to the hotel operator: “Ring Mr. Donald Kirk on the twenty-second, please. Yes, important.” He waited, whistling a merry tune. “Who’s this? Oh, Hubbell. This is Ellery Queen . . . . Yes, yes, man; Queen! Is Donald Kirk in? . . . Well, get him out of bed, then! . . . Ah, Kirk . . . . No, no, nothing’s the matter. Actually, I’ve rousing good news for you. You’ll be glad I woke you up at this obscene hour. I’ve something for you¯call it a little engagement gift . . . . No, no. I’ll leave it for you at the desk. And let me tell you, Kirk, that your troubles are over. About M., I mean . . . . Yes! Well, don’t shout my ears off, old chap. And, as far as I. L. is concerned, her claws are permanently trimmed. She won’t bother you again. Stay away from her like a good little boy and devote yourself¯you lucky devil!¯to the lady known as Jo. Night!”

And, chuckling, Ellery deposited the package with the clerk and marched out of the Chancellor, reeling a little from sheer fatigue but glowing with the consciousness of a good deed exceedingly well done.

Ellery astounded his father and Djuna by appearing at the Inspector’s breakfast table at the Inspector’s usual breakfast hour, which was an early hour indeed.

“Well, look who’s here,” said the old gentleman a little brokenly, because his mouth was full of eggy toast. “Sick, El? Must be something wrong to get you up this early.”

“Something right,” yawned Ellery, rubbing red-rimmed eyes. He sank into a chair with a groan.

“What time did you get in?”

“About three . . . . Djuna, the royal oofs, if you please.”

“Oofs?” said Djuna suspiciously. “What’s them?”

“What are those, my lad; this association with the youth of 87th Street is contaminating you. Oofs, Djuna, is a sort of bastardized French for eggs. I could stomach a right good egg at the moment. Turn ‘em over and slap ‘em in the behind; you know¯the usual style.”

Djuna grinned and vanished into the kitchen. The Inspector grunted: “Well?”

“You may well say well,” murmured Ellery, reaching for the cigarets. “I am happy to report unmitigated success.”

“Hmm. If you’ll tell me what you’re talking about, maybe I’ll understand you.”

“The situation is briefly this,” said Ellery, leaning back and blowing smoke. “I asked you to get the Llewes woman¯fascinating wench!¯out of the way so that I could pursue a little hunch of mine. It was obvious that she had a hold on Kirk¯something she was waving over his head which was keeping that harassed young idiot quiet and which he would have given the remnants of his fortune to get back. Well, what was she waving over his head? Obviously, again, something of a tangible nature. Such being the case, I said to myself in the typical rococo style of a vanished literary era, it was in her possession and very close to her charming person. Where? Her apartment, of course. She’s too foxy and experienced a creature to get mixed up with safety-deposit vaults and the consequent records. So¯you obliged me and engaged her in Centre Street chit-chat while I burgled her rooms.”

“And without a warrant, too!” gasped the Inspector. “That’s the second time, you fool. Some day you’re going to step into a nasty mess of trouble. Suppose it hadn’t been there? By the way, did you find it?”

“Certainly I found it. A Queen, as the saying goes in Centre Street, never fails.”

“Never mind how the saying goes in Centre Street,” growled the old gentleman. “You ought to hear how the saying goes in City Hall. Well, give!”

“Of course, I neglected to mention that I bumped into young Kirk on my prowl. It seems we both had something of the same brilliant idea¯”

“What!”