The Chinese Orange Mystery

“Nothing,” drawled Ellery, “except that he was hungry; and we knew that anyway. I couldn’t even squeeze any light out of the fact that he had selected a Chinese orange to appease his hunger rather than the pears or apples or other fruits in the bowl. I like ‘em myself, and I’ve never been nearer China than Chicago . . . . But there’s one thing about the Chinese orange that’s¯well, interesting.”

“What’s that?” demanded Kirk. He was holding the packet very tightly.

“It illustrates,” chuckled Ellery, “the capaciousness and whimsicality of fate. Because, you see, while the Chinese orange he ate had nothing to do with the crime, the Chinese Orange he brought had everything to do with it, since it inspired the motive!”

“The Chinese orange he brought?” murmured Miss Temple, puzzled.

“With a capital O,” said Ellery. “I mean the stamp. In fact, it makes such a fascinating coincidence that if ever I Actionize the remarkable case of poor Osborne and the smiling little Chinese missionary, I shan’t be able to resist the temptation to entitle it The Chinese Orange Mystery!”

The End