The Chinese Orange Mystery

“Now observe what that fatal procrastination of the murderer led to. When the bag was opened we found the dead man’s clothing with Shanghai labels in them. Since the clothes were all fairly new those garments must have been purchased recently in China. I put this together with the fact that despite the most thorough search no trace of the man had been found in this country. Had the priest lived in the United States but was merely returning from a visit to China, I reasoned that some one in this country would have come forward to identify him¯a friend, a relative. But no one did. So it was not at all improbable that he had been a permanent resident in the East. But if he was a Catholic priest from China, what did we have? There is only one great class of Christian men-of-God in the land of Buddhism and Taoism.”

“A missionary,” said Miss Temple slowly.

Ellery smiled. “Right again, Miss Temple. I felt convinced that our benevolent-appearing, soft-speaking little corpse with the breviary and religious tracts in his bag had been a Catholic missionary from China!”

* * *

Some one rapped thunderously on the door against which Inspector Queen’s slender shoulder-blades were resting, and the old man turned quickly and opened the door. The visitor was Sergeant Velie, hard-bitten and grim as usual.

Ellery murmured: “I beg your pardon,” and hurried to the door. They watched the three men conferring with open expressions of anxiety and apprehension. The Sergeant was rumbling something ominous-sounding, the Inspector was looking triumphant, and Ellery was nodding vigorously at every murmur. Then something passed from Velie’s beefy hand to Ellery’s, and Ellery turned his back and examined it, and turned and smiled and put what he was holding into his pocket. The Sergeant leaned back against the door, towering beside Inspector Queen.

“I’m sorry about the interruption,” said Ellery placidly, “but Sergeant Velie has made an epochal discovery. Where was I? Oh, yes. I knew then roughly who Donald Kirk’s visitor was. A little thought then convinced me that I had found the key to¯as it were thecausus belli¯to the direct motive which inspired the murderer. It was quite obvious that the priest himself, as a flesh-and-blood personality, was unknown to any one in this room. Yet he had come to visit Donald Kirk, asking for him by name. Only three classes of persons frequent Mr. Kirk’s office here: stamp people, gem people, and people on publishing business, chiefly authors. Yet the priest had refused to tell Mr. Osborne, Kirk’s confidential assistant, anything about his business; not even his name. This did not sound like a publishing contact, and it struck me that it was most probable the point of contact between Kirk and the priest was one of Kirk’s two hobbies: stamps or gems.

“Now I reasoned that, if this was true, the missionary had come either to sell stamps or jewels, or to buy them¯the two all-inclusive classifications. The cheapness of the man’s attire, his vocation, the long journey he had made, convinced me that he was not a buyer. Then he was a seller. This fitted well, too, with his general air of secrecy. He had something in a stamp or jewel to sell Donald Kirk, something valuable, to judge from his reticent attitude. It was therefore evident that he must have been murdered for possession of the stamp or jewel he had come all the way from China to sell. It was even possible to infer that, since Kirk is a specialist on stamps of China, the missionary was probably the owner of a Chinese stamp rather than a jewel. This wasn’t certain, but it seemed the better possibility. Ergo, having solved the case in my own way, I instructed Sergeant Velie to ransack the premises of the murderer with an eye to finding this Chinese stamp; although I did tell him to look out for a jewel.” Ellery paused to light another cigaret. “I was right, and the Sergeant reports success. He has found the stamp.”

Some one gasped. But when Ellery searched their faces he met only stubbornly furtive stares.

He smiled and took from his pocket a long manilla envelope. From this envelope he took another, smaller envelope of queer foreign appearance, with an address (presumably) in Chinese and a cancelled stamp in one corner. “Messrs. Kirk and Macgowan.” The two men rose uncertainly. “We may as well call upon our two philatelists. What do you make of this?”

They came forward, reluctant but curious. Kirk took the envelope slowly, Macgowan peering over his shoulder. And then, simultaneously, they cried out and began to talk to each other excitedly in undertones.

“Well, gentlemen?” murmured Ellery. “We’re panting for enlightenment. What is it?”