Chinese Orange Mystery Part 21

"With a slug in her belly," sniffed the Inspector. "It's all right, though. We got the guy who plugged her. Dippy MacGuire, the c.o.ke. That ends one spectacular career."

And again a silence. "Aren't you going to ask me," said Ellery at last in a plaintive tone, "what success means in terms of Queenian syllables?"

"I kind of figured," drawled the Inspector, dipping into his snuff-box, "that if you were over your fit of hush-mouth, you'd tell without my asking."

"It's solved, you know," said Ellery bashfully.

"Congrats."

"I know the whole story now, you see. All the essential things. Except the little chap's name, and that's not important. But who murdered him, why, and how it was done-especially how it was done-they're quite settled in my mind."

The Inspector said nothing; he placed his small hands behind his head and gazed gloomily into the fire.

Ellery grinned suddenly and seized a chair and dragged it over to the fire and sat down. He leaned over and smacked his father's knee resoundingly. "Come on, old growler," he chuckled. "Come out of it. You know you're putting on an act. I do want to tell you, now that I'm convinced. ... Or perhaps you'd rather not-?"

"It's up to you," said the Inspector stiffly.

So Ellery put his hands between his knees and squatted and talked.

He talked for an hour. All the while Inspector Queen remained motionless, gazing steadily into the flames, his bird-like little face screwed up and his brows flanking a frown.

And then, all at once, he grinned all over his face and cried: "Well, I'll be double-d.a.m.ned!"

Looking Backward.

MR. ELLERY QUEEN HAD never set a stage more carefully in the whole of his variegated experience than he did the morning after the great experiment in his living-room. And, for once, he had Inspector Queen with him.

Why they deemed it necessary to be so thoroughly cautious and painstaking about their preparations neither took the trouble to explain to any one. And the only other person who might have been able to account for it was missing. Sergeant Velie, normally the soul of punctuality, had vanished. And again, for once, Inspector Queen accepted his vanishment with equanimity.

When it began it proceeded very smoothly indeed. Early in the morning a grim-faced detective from Headquarters called on each of the persons a.s.sociated with the case and const.i.tuted himself a gratuitous bodyguard thenceforward. There were no explanations or excuses. Beyond a curt: "Orders of Inspector Queen," each detective remained silent.

Consequently, when 10:00 o'clock rolled round, the anteroom to Donald Kirk's office-the scene of the crime-began to fill with curious, rather shaken, people. Dr. Hugh Kirk, faintly bl.u.s.tering, was wheeled into the anteroom by a subdued Miss Diversey under the watchful eye of Detective Hagstrom. Donald Kirk and his sister Marcella were marched in by Detective Ritter. Miss Temple, distinctly mauve-complectioned, entered with Detective Hesse. Glenn Macgowan stamped in, furious but unprotesting, under the wing of Detective Johnson. Felix Berne was a reluctantly early comer, prodded along by Detective Piggott, who seemed to have developed an abrasive dislike for his charge. Inspector Queen attended to Irene Sewell himself. Osborne found himself hustled into the anteroom by a brawny policeman. Even Nye, the Chancellor's manager, and Brummer, the black-browed house-detective, were there in firm if polite custody; as were Mrs. Shane, the floor-clerk, and Hubbell, Kirk's valet-butler.

When they were all a.s.sembled Mr. Ellery Queen briskly shut the door, smiled at the silent seated company, cast a professional eye over the detectives ranged against the wall, nodded to Inspector Queen, who had taken up a silent station before the corridor door, and strode to the center of the room.

Through the windows streamed a pale morning light, sluggishly emanating from an overcast, depressing sky. The coffin-like crate lay before them, its lid loosely on; the contents of this remote sarcophagus had not been revealed to them, and more than one puzzled disturbed glance was directed at it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," began Mr. Ellery Queen, resting one neat shoe on the crate, "I suppose all of you are wondering at the peculiar character of this morning's little convention. I shan't keep you in doubt. We've gathered this morning to unmask the murderer of the man who met his death in this room not so long ago."

They were sitting rigidly, staring at him with a sort of fascinated horror. Then Miss Diversey whispered: "Then you know-" and bit her lip and blushed in confusion.

"Shut up," snarled Dr. Kirk. "Are we to understand, Queen, that this is to be one of those fantastic exhibitions of crime-nosing you're reputed to be so addicted to? I must say that-"

"One at a time, please," smiled Ellery. "Yes, Dr. Kirk, that's precisely what this is intended to be. Let's say: a practical demonstration of the invincibility of logic. Mind over matter. The self-taught brain victorious. And as for your question, Miss Diversey: we shall argue certain points of interest and see where they lead us." He raised his hand. "No, no, no questions, please. ... Oh, before I begin. I suppose it's futile to request the murderer of our little corpse to step forward and save us both time and cerebral wear-and-tear?"

He looked at them gravely. But no one replied; every one kept his eyes fixed guiltily before him.

"Very well," he said in crisp tones. "To work. ..." He lighted a cigaret and half-closed his eyes. "The crux of this case was the astounding fact that everything on the scene of the crime, including the very clothes of the victim, had been inverted, turned backwards. I say 'astounding.' Even in my mind, trained in the observation and diagnosis of just such phenomena, there was a distinct reaction of amazement. I daresay not even the murderer, conceiving the backwards business and carrying it into effect, realized just how amazing it was going to appear.

"After the shock had pa.s.sed I proceeded to a.n.a.lyze the facts, or rather the fact. Experience has taught me that rarely does a criminal do something positive-as opposed to an unconscious act-without purpose. This was a positive, a conscious act. It required hard work and the expenditure of precious time in the accomplishment. I was justified in saying at once, therefore, that there was reason behind it; that while its manifestations seemed insane its purpose, at the least, must have been rational."

They were listening with painful attention.

"I will confess," continued Ellery, "that until yesterday that purpose eluded me. I pursued it mentally with the tenacity of desperation, but for the life of me I couldn't see why everything had been turned backwards. I a.s.sumed, of course, that the backwardness of the crime pointed to something backwards about somebody in the case. It seemed the only possible tack. And yet it enmeshed me in strands of philology, philately, and nomenclature so confused that more than once I was tempted to throw the whole puzzle up. There were all sorts of bewildering questions to be answered. If everything was turned backwards to point to a backwards significance about somebody, then that somebody must have been criminally involved. What was the real backwards significance, then? Whom was it intended to involve criminally? And, more important, who had turned everything backwards in the first place? Who was pointing to whom?"

He chuckled. "I see confusion here, and I can't say I blame you. I found plenty of leads. They performed the function of leading, to be sure, but unfortunately in the direction of obfuscation, not toward a lucid solution of the problem. As for who had done the job, was it the criminal? Was it some one who had inadvertently witnessed the killing? But if it was the criminal pointing to some one else, then that some one was being framed. And yet it was the sorriest frame-up conceivable, since it was so inconclusive, so vague, so really, incomprehensible. If everything was turned backwards by some one who had witnessed the crime, why didn't that witness come forward with his knowledge instead of taking that hideously tangled, complex method of leaving a clue to the murderer's ident.i.ty? You see what I was up against. Wherever I turned I met darkness.

"And then," murmured Ellery, "I saw how simple it was, how easily I had led myself astray. I had made a mistake. I had misread the facts. My logic had been imperfect. I hadn't taken into consideration the startling fact that there were two general explanations for the backwardnesses, not one!"

"I can't say I understand this Ciceronian oration," said Felix Berne suddenly. "Is this something characteristically esoteric, or do you know what you're talking about?"

"The gentleman from The Mandarin," said Ellery, "will please to observe the amenities and preserve the peace. You'll find out soon enough, Mr. Berne. ... For you see, I found on reconsideration that there were two possible answers to the riddle. The first I've already related: that everything had been turned backwards to point to something backwards about somebody in the case. Its alternative, which had escaped me," continued Ellery, leaning forward, "was that everything was turned backwards to conceal something backwards about somebody in the case!"

He paused to light a fresh cigaret. Cupping his hands about a match, he scrutinized their faces. But he saw only bewilderment.

"I see expansion is required," he drawled, puffing away. "The first possibility led away from the crime; the second led to the crime. The first possibility involved revealment; the second concealment. Perhaps I can make it clearer by asking you: By everything about the body and the crime-scene being turned backwards, against whom could concealment have conceivably been directed? What about whom in the case could have been meant to be hidden, camouflaged, disguised?"

"Well, if everything was turned backwards on the body," ventured Miss Temple in a low voice, "then it must have been the victim about whom something was being concealed, I should think."

"Brava, Miss Temple. You've put your finger on the precise point. There was only one person in the case against whom concealment could have been effected by turning everything backwards. And that was the victim himself. In other words, instead of seeking a backwards significance involving the murderer, or a possible accomplice, or a possible witness to the crime, it was necessary to look for a backwards significance involving the victim."

"That sounds pat when you say it fast, and all that," said Berne, "but I fail to see-"

"As Homer said," murmured Ellery: "'Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more.' Cla.s.sics to the cla.s.sical, Mr. Berne. ... The obvious question was: What could this backwards significance be which centers about the victim? Was it something backwards about him literally? Yes, from our theorem something backwards about the victim which the murderer wanted to conceal, to disguise, to cover up. That is to say, if the victim had something, some one thing, backwards about him, then the murderer by turning everything else about him backwards would conceal the backwardness of that one thing!-would make it very difficult indeed to discern what that backwards element about the victim had been to begin with."

A startled expression sprang into the publisher's eye, and he sank back with compressed lips. Thereafter he studied Ellery in a new and faintly puzzled way.

"Once I had reached that stage of my cogitations," continued Ellery with a quizzical look, "I knew I was on solid ground at last. I had something to work on-the most tangible thing in the world: a positive clue. It at once confirmed everything that had gone before and dissipated the fog like magic. For I had merely to ask myself if there was any indication on the victim's body that pointed to the possible nature of the original backwards phenomenon, the one that was meant to be concealed by the murderer's turning everything else backwards. No sooner asked than answered. There was."

"Clue?" muttered Macgowan.

"I saw the body myself," began Donald Kirk in a wondering voice.

"Please, gentlemen. The hour ageth. What was this indication, this clue? The fact that there was no necktie on the man's body or on the scene of the crime!"

If Ellery had uttered in a loud voice the word: "Abracadabra!" he could not have evoked a more general expression of dazed inquiry than flickered from the faces of his audience.

"No necktie?" gasped Donald. "But what-"

"Our instinctive presumption," said Ellery patiently, "was that the victim had worn a necktie, but that the murderer had taken it away because somehow it permitted identification of the victim or traceability. But it was evident to me now that there never was a necktie; that the victim had not worn a tie at all! Remember, when he spoke to Mrs. Shane, and to Mr. Osborne in the presence of Miss Diversey, he wore a scarf bundled closely about his neck. In other words, there was no tie for the murderer to take away!"

"But at best," protested Dr. Kirk, fascinated despite himself, "that was a pragmatic conclusion, Queen. It was a theory, but not necessarily the truth."

"A theory, my dear Doctor, resulting inevitably from the argument that the backwards process had been employed to conceal something. But I agree that, as it stood, it was unsatisfactory. Fortunately, a fact existed which offered positive corroboration." Ellery related briefly the incident of the canvas valise, and listed its contents. "For there were the necessary garments of the victim-everything from a suit to shoes-and yet the only familiar article of apparel missing from the bag was-a necktie. I felt certain then that the reason it was missing was that the owner of the bag habitually did not wear neckties. You see?"

"Hmm," muttered Dr. Kirk. "Corroboration indeed. A man who didn't wear neckties ..."

"The thing was child's play after that," Ellery shrugged, waving his cigaret about. "I asked myself: What type of man never wears a necktie with ordinary street-clothes?"

"A priest!" burst out Marcella. She sank back, blus.h.i.+ng.

"Precisely, Miss Kirk. A Catholic priest-or, to be accurate, either a Catholic priest or an Episcopalian clergyman. And then I remembered something else. All three of the witnesses who had seen and spoken with the victim remarked about the peculiar quality of his voice. It had a soft queer timbre, almost unctuous in its sugary tones. And while this was by no means conclusive, or for that matter even a good clue, it did fit with the character of a priest after I'd deduced one. And then there was the very worn breviary in the bag, and the religious tracts ... I couldn't doubt it any longer.

"So here I had the kernel of the entire process of inversion. For to what backwards phenomenon-meant to be obscured, buried among the irrelevant backwardnesses-did the necktie-clue point? And then it struck me like a physical blow that a Catholic or Episcopalian man-of-G.o.d wears his collar turned around. Backwards!"

There was a stifling silence. Inspector Queen, at the corridor door, did not stir. He had his eyes fixed oddly upon the door opposite him, the door to the office which stood shut.

"So I had finally smelled out the backwards significance of the crime," sighed Ellery. "Everything had been turned backwards by the murderer to conceal the fact that his victim was a priest, to conceal the fact that his victim wore no necktie and wore a turned-around collar."

They erupted all at once, springing into life as if some one had given a signal. But it was Miss Temple's soft voice which somehow caught on. "There must be something wrong, Mr. Queen. It was an ordinary collar, wasn't it? Couldn't the murderer have merely turned the collar around on the dead man's neck into the usual lay position?"

"Excellent objection," smiled Ellery. "Naturally that occurred to me, as it certainly occurred to the murderer. I should point out, incidentally, that the cravatless victim must have been a great shock to the murderer. For it is true that no one in this case, including the murderer himself, had ever actually seen that stout little man before he emerged quietly from the elevator on this floor. m.u.f.fled up to the chin in the scarf, he was killed before the murderer realized that he was a priest. ... But to reply to your question. If the murderer had turned the collar around-that is, turned it into the lay position-it would have stood out like a sore thumb. And the missing tie would have only called further attention to the one thing about the victim the murderer wanted to conceal."

"But why the devil," objected Macgowan, "didn't this murderer solve the whole problem by getting a tie somewhere and putting it on the dead man's neck?"

"Why indeed?" said Ellery, his eyes gleaming. "And that question, too, occurred to me. In fact, it was one of the most important indications in the whole logical structure! I shan't answer it fully now, but you'll see later why the murderer couldn't get a necktie. Of course he couldn't use his own-" Ellery smiled maliciously, "if he were a man, since he had to meet other people; and if he, so to speak, were a woman he naturally, also so to speak, couldn't provide one from his own person. But most important, he couldn't get out of the anteroom, as I'll show you later. At any rate, take my word for it at this point that his best course was to leave the collar as it was-turned around-and then as a blind to turn everything else on the body and in the room around, thereby concealing the significance of the inverted collar and the lack of a necktie and thereby leading the police astray." Ellery paused, and continued thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, at this point in my deductions it was evident that we were dealing with a person of great imagination, even brilliance, and also with a large cranial capacity and a strictly methodical temperament. It took genius of a sort to conceive the idea of inverting all the clothes; and it took brain-power and logic to foresee that to turn only the clothes about was not sufficient, since the very strangeness of the appearance of the clothes would call dangerous attention to them. So he turned the furniture and everything else movable around as well, diverting attention from the clothes and therefore from the collar-the whole thing a perfectly inspired logical chain of reasoning. And it very nearly worked."

"But even so, even if you knew the victim was a priest-" began Donald.

"Where did it get me?" Ellery grimaced. "It's true that merely knowing the victim was a priest, while it narrowed the field of search, was hardly vital. But then there was the business of the valise."

"Valise?"

"Yes. I didn't visualize baggage myself; Inspector Queen did, to his eternal credit. But the murderer knew all along what he was up against. When he emptied the priest's pockets he found the baggage-check, bearing the inscription of the Hotel Chancellor itself. Since his main objective was to prevent identification of the victim, it was apparent that he had to get hold of the luggage held by the Chancellor checkroom to prevent its falling into the hands of the police. Yet he was afraid. The Chancellor was under close surveillance. He dillydallied, apprehensive, timid, worried, until it was too late. Then he conceived the scheme of gaining possession of the valise by way of the falsely signed note, the five-dollar bill, and the instructions to the Postal Telegraph office. As it happened, we caught the trail instantly; he was watching and saw the game was spoiled, made no effort to claim the bag in Grand Central, and the bag fell into our hands.

"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 cla.s.s of Christian men-of-G.o.d 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 shoulderblades 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 pa.s.sed 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 the casus 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 cla.s.ses of persons frequent Mr. Kirk's office here; stamp people, gem people, and people on publis.h.i.+ng business, chiefly authors. Yet the priest had refused to tell Mr. Osborne, Kirk's confidential a.s.sistant, anything about his business; not even his name. This did not sound like a publis.h.i.+ng 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 cla.s.sifications. 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 att.i.tude. 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 manila 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?"

The stamp on the envelope was a small rectangle of thin tough paper printed in a single color, bright orange. Within its rectangular border there was a conventionalized coiled dragon. Its denomination was five candarins. The printing of the stamp was crude, and the envelope itself was ragged and yellow with age. A message in Chinese-the letter-had been written on the inside of the envelope, which was of the old-fas.h.i.+oned type still used in Europe and elsewhere for both address and message, folding up neatly for postage.

"This," muttered Donald, "is the most remarkable thing I've ever seen. To a China specialist it's a find of monumental proportions. It's the earliest official postage stamp of China, antedating by many years the accepted first-issue design which is in the standard catalogue. It was an experimental issue of extremely small quant.i.ty and was used postally only for a few days. No copy on cover, as we call it, which is to say on the envelope-or off, for that matter-has ever been found. G.o.d, what a beauty!"

"It's not even listed in specialized Chinese catalogues," said Macgowan hoa.r.s.ely, eying the envelope with rapacity. "It's barely mentioned in one old stamp treatise, rather affectionately referred to by color, just as philatelists refer to the first national authorized issue of Great Britain as the One-Penny Black. Lord, it's beautiful."

"Would you say," drawled Ellery, "that this is a valuable piece of property?"

"Valuable!" cried Donald. "Why, man, this should be even more valuable philatelically than the British Guiana! That is, if it's authentic. It would have to be expertized."

"It looks genuine," frowned Macgowan. "The fact that it's on cover, and the cancellation is clear, and the message is written inside ..."

"How valuable would you say?"

"Oh, anything. Anything at all. These things are worth what a collector will pay at top. The Guiana's listed at fifty thousand." Donald's face darkened. "If I were stable financially, I'd probably pay as much as that for it myself. It would make top price for any stamp; but, Lord, there's nothing like this in the world!"

"Ah. Thank you, gentlemen." Ellery returned the envelope to its manila container and tucked it into his pocket. Kirk and Macgowan slowly went back to their seats. No one said anything for a long time. "This Chinese stamp, then," resumed Ellery at last, "may be characterized as deus ex machina. It brought our friend the missionary all the way from China; I daresay he had made the find in some obscure place, visualized suddenly a wealth which would keep him in luxurious comfort for the rest of his days, lost his grip on the spiritual consolations of his profession, and resigned from the mission. Inquiry in Shanghai would have informed him of the great collectors of Chinese stamps who might be in the market for such a rarity; I suppose it was there, or perhaps in Peiping-more probably Shanghai-that he learned of Mr. Donald Kirk. ... And it killed the priest, too, for the murder was committed in its name."

Ellery stopped to look thoughtfully down at the coffin-like crate at his feet. "Having identified the victim, then-except for name, which was unimportant-and come to a satisfactory conclusion about the motive (although this was also unimportant from the logical standpoint), I proceeded to consideration-the supreme consideration-of the murderer's ident.i.ty.

"For some time, comparatively speaking, this most essential point escaped me. I knew the answer was there, if only I could spot it. Then I remembered one or two apparently inexplicable phenomena of the crime which no one, including myself, had been able to interpret. An impetus was provided by a chance question of the Inspector's. And an experiment revealed the whole thing."

Without warning he stooped and removed the lid of the crate. Sergeant Velie silently stepped forward; and between them they raised the dummy to a sitting position in the crate.

Marcella Kirk uttered a faint shriek and shrank against Macgowan beside her. Miss Diversey gulped noisily. Miss Temple lowered her eyes. Mrs. Shane breathed a prayer and Miss Llewes looked sickish. Even the men had turned pale.

"Don't be alarmed," murmured Ellery, rising. "Just a pleasant fancy of mine, and a rather interesting sample of the dummy-maker's art. Please pay the very closest attention."

He went to the door leading to the adjoining office, opened it, vanished, and an instant later reappeared with the paper-thin Indian mat which had lain in front of the door on the office side. This he deposited carefully over the threshold, one-third in the anteroom and the other two-thirds in the office. Then he got to his feet, took from his right pocket a coil of thin tough-looking cord, and held it up for their inspection. He nodded, smiled at them, and proceeded to measure off one-third the length of the cord. He then wound the cord at that point about the protruding metal k.n.o.b of the bolt on the anteroom side of the door. The cord now dangled from the k.n.o.b-a short length and a long length, held to the metal protrusion by the single winding. There was no knot of any kind, as he demonstrated in pantomime. Ellery took up the short end and pa.s.sed it through the crack under the door, over the mat into the office beyond. He closed the door without touching the k.n.o.b. It was shut but unbolted.

They were watching him like children at a puppet-show, wide-eyed, eager, puzzled. No one spoke, and all that could be heard were the soft sounds of Ellery's movements and the heavy uneven breathing.

Ellery continued his demonstration in the same pregnant silence. He stepped back and surveyed the two sections of bookcase which flanked the doorway. He studied them for a moment, and then sprang forward and began to tug at the case to his right as he faced the door. He pulled the case back along the right-hand wall about four feet. He returned and began to move the bookcase on the left of the doorway, as they saw it. He tugged and shoved until he had it jutting out into the room-pulled toward the door until its left side at the rear touched the hinges of the door, its right side swung outward into the room a short way, the whole bookcase forming an acute angle with the door. Then he stepped back with a nod of satisfaction.

"You will observe," he said briskly in the silence, "that both bookcases are now exactly as we found them when the body was discovered."

As if this were a signal, Sergeant Velie stooped and lifted the dummy out of the crate. Despite its weight he carried it as he might have borne a child. They saw now that the dummy was dressed in the dead man's garments, and that they were on backwards. Ellery said something to the Sergeant in a low voice and Velie set the body upright on its feet. He balanced it erect, grotesquely, with one huge splayed finger.

"Let go, Sergeant," drawled Ellery.

They stared. Velie withdrew his finger and the body collapsed, sinking vertically until it lay in a heap on the floor where an instant before it had been standing.

"The muscleless inertia of the very dead," said Ellery cheerfully. "Good work, Sergeant. We a.s.sume that rigor mortis has not yet set in. Our demonstration has proved it. Now for the second stage."

Velie lifted the dummy and Ellery went to the crate and came up with the two Impi spears which had been found on the body. These he thrust up the dummy's trouser-legs and under the coat until they emerged from behind the head, their wicked blades far above the papier-mche skull. Then the Sergeant carried the dummy over and propped it up in the angle made by the door and the left-hand bookcase, facing toward the right. It stood erect very stiffly, the two spearheads jutting like horns from the coat. The feet barely rested on the edge of the Indian mat.