Chinese Orange Mystery Part 6

Kirk groaned. "For G.o.d's sake, no! I didn't mean that. I didn't mean to lie about it. I won't lie. But I won't tell you, Queen. I can't. I'm in-"

The door from the dining-room opened and tall Marcella appeared, followed by pale Hubbell wheeling a portable bar. A tray covered with frosty gla.s.ses was on the bar. ... Kirk muttered an apology and scrambled to his feet. "I need a couple of those," he choked. Hubbell served the ladies.

"That's the first sensible thing you've said this evening, my son," exclaimed Dr. Kirk, wheeling his chair rapidly to the bar. "Hubbell, let me have one of those detestable concoctions!"

"Father," said Marcella, gliding forward. "Dr. Angini said-"

"Hang Dr. Angini!"

The c.o.c.ktails inspired a slight gaiety. The old man, his thin cheeks flushed, was cynically delightful. He attached himself openly to Miss Llewes, and she was laughing in her low throaty voice. Ellery, looking up from his c.o.c.ktail, caught a curious expression of distaste on Marcella's face; even Macgowan seemed disgusted. Kirk alone was oblivious; he saw, knew nothing, downing his fourth c.o.c.ktail without pausing for breath. He had quite forgotten that he was still wearing street clothes-the dowdy tweeds that hung their folds in shame before the black-and-white neatness of the three other men.

Hubbell had disappeared.

And then the door opened and Inspector Queen's slender figure appeared behind a dark stocky man in evening clothes of foreign cut. The newcomer had wicked black eyes and a thin mouth that lay still below a mouse-colored mustache.

"Excuse me," said the Inspector, looking curiously about at the drinking company. "This is Mr. Felix Berne, isn't it?"

The dark man said angrily: "I've been telling you! Kirk! Tell this idiot who I am!"

The Inspector's shrewd eyes swept from Kirk to Ellery, caught something in Ellery's disapproving stare, blinked; and the next moment he vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving Berne standing there with his bitter mouth open.

"Welcome home, Felix," said Kirk wearily. "Miss Temple, may I present-"

"Dinner is served," said a colorless British voice, and they turned to find Hubbell standing stiffly in the doorway to the dining-room.

Dinner for Eight.

ELLERY FOUND HIMSELF SEATED at the long oval table between Kirk, at his right, and Miss Temple. Diagonally across from him sat Berne, a scowl on his intelligent face. Marcella and Macgowan were neighbors; and Miss Llewes and Dr. Kirk, who sat at the head of the table. Of the eight only Miss Llewes and Dr. Kirk were gay. The old gentleman's angular torso, a.s.sisted into the chair by Miss Diversey who had then vanished, genuflected toward his companion with all the rusty vigor of an ancient cavalier. His frosty eyes were no longer frosty; they sparkled with a youthful warmth, bathed in curious lights.

The woman, decided Ellery, was an enigma. She laughed throatily, showing brilliant white teeth; she murmured behind her hand to the old man; she accepted his chuckling sallies with a nonchalant grace that spoke long practice ... and yet there was something essentially mirthless in her expression and her eyes never lost their wary gleam. Why was she there? That she was a semi-permanent resident of the Chancellor Ellery had learned; she had checked in from nowhere two months before. From the conversation he was able, too, to deduce that before her arrival at the Chancellor she had been unknown to the Kirks; and Berne apparently was meeting her for the first time. She was not native New York, of that he felt certain; there was a Continental air about her, and she spoke glibly of Cannes and Vienna and Cap d'Antibes and the Blue Grotto and Fiesole.

He contented himself with watching her enamelled face and Kirk's. The young man was horribly uneasy. He could scarcely keep his eyes off his father.

And at Ellery's left tiny Miss Temple ate quietly, her long black lashes concealing her eyes.

For a long time no one mentioned the murder. For the most part the dinner was uncompanionable.

Before dinner Felix Berne had made a superficial excuse-an unembroidered apology. He had "been detained"; he was "sorry." He had landed that very morning, it appeared, and "personal affairs" had occupied him "all day." Toward Miss Temple he was neither cold nor cordial: she had been a discovery of Donald Kirk's. Never having met her before and not having read her ma.n.u.script, he seemed cynically content to place the burden of critical proof upon his partner's shoulders.

But over the soup Berne suddenly burst into bitter speech. "I don't know why every one's so silent about that ghastly business across the corridor. Why the mystery, Donald? I was stopped at the elevators on this floor by some stupid flatfoot and subjected to the most humiliating cross-examination."

All conversation abruptly ceased. The warm light fled Dr. Kirk's eyes; Miss Llewes became rigid; Jo Temple's lashes curled up; Macgowan frowned; Marcella bit her lip; Donald Kirk became very pale; and Ellery felt his muscles tense.

"Why talk about it?" muttered Kirk. "It's spoiled the evening already, Felix. I'm sorry if-"

Berne's black eyes flicked around the table. "There's something more to this than meets the eye. Why did that irritating little Inspector insist on dragging me into that anteroom of yours and uncovering a basket and showing me the beatific face of a dead man?"

"He did-that?" faltered Marcella.

Ellery said lightly: "That irritating little Inspector, Mr. Berne, happens to be my father. I shouldn't condemn him, you know, for doing his duty. He's trying to identify the body."

The black eyes gleamed with interest. "Ah! I beg your pardon, Mr. Queen. I hadn't caught your father's name. Identify the body? Then the man's unknown as yet?"

"n.o.body knows who he is," growled Dr. Kirk with a grumpy look, squirming in his chair, "and what's more n.o.body cares. At least I do not. Come, come, Felix! This is scarcely post-hors d'oeuvres conversation."

"I really can't agree with you, Doctor," murmured Miss Llewes. "I find it thrilling."

"You," Ellery heard the tiny woman at his left breathe, "would." But no one else heard.

"I daresay Miss Llewes and I," said Berne with a grim smile, "have the Continental att.i.tude toward such things-a lack of squeamishness. Eh, Miss Llewes? Under the circ.u.mstances, Mr. Queen, I'm really sorry I wasn't able to render more a.s.sistance. The man was a stranger to me."

"Well," grinned Ellery, "you have company."

There was an interval of silence. Hotel waiters removed the soup plates.

Then Berne said quietly: "I take it you've a-professional interest in this case, Mr. Queen?"

"More or less. I generally dawdle about the fringes, Mr. Berne. I find homicides quite stimulating."

"A curious taste," snapped Dr. Kirk.

"Nor can I say, Mr. Queen," murmured Miss Temple, "that I share your tastes in stimulation, either." She s.h.i.+vered a little. "I still retain an Occidental aversion to death. My friends the Chinese would appreciate your att.i.tude."

Ellery regarded her with a slow dawning of interest. "Your friends the Chinese? Ah, yes. Stupid of me. I'd quite forgotten. You've lived in China most of your life, haven't you?"

"Yes. My father was in the American diplomatic service."

"It's quite true about the Chinese. There's a strain of fatalism in the Oriental make-up that breeds first resignation to human death and then, as a natural development, contempt for human life."

"Nonsense," said Dr. Kirk in a shrill temper, "supreme nonsense! If you were a philologist, Mr. Queen, you would realize that the ideographic origin of-"

"Here, here," murmured Felix Berne, "no lectures, Doctor. We're digressing. I understand the man asked for you, Donald." Kirk started. "Odd."

"Isn't it?" said Kirk nervously. "But, Felix, I a.s.sure you-"

"Look here," said Glenn Macgowan from the other end of the table in a harsh voice, "we're making a mountain out of a molehill. Mr. Queen, I understand that you're something of a logician in your attack on crime problems."

"Something," smiled Ellery, "is the mot juste."

"Then surely it's obvious," snapped Macgowan, "that since this man is unknown to any of us, his murder really can't concern any of us? The fact that he was killed on the premises was sheer coincidence, even accident."

Hubbell, bending over Marcella's gla.s.s with a swathed bottle of sauterne, spilled a few drops of wine on the cloth.

"Oh, dear," sighed Marcella. "Even poor Hubbell's been afflicted."

The man turned scarlet and effaced himself.

"You mean, of course, Mr. Macgowan," said Miss Temple softly, "that, as you said before, some one followed him here and took advantage of his isolation in a perfectly strange room to-murder him?"

"Why not?" cried Macgowan. "Why look for complications when there's a simple explanation?"

"But, my dear Macgowan," murmured Ellery sadly, "we haven't a simple crime."

Macgowan muttered: "But I don't see-"

"I mean that the killer went in for embroidery." They were very silent now. "He removed the dead man's outer garments and reclothed him so that his garments clothed the body in the reverse of the normal position. Backwards, you see. He turned every piece of furniture in the room which normally faced into the room so that it faced the wall. Backwards again. All movable objects suffered the same inexplicable fate-the lamps, the bowl of fruit-" he paused-"the bowl of fruit," he repeated, "the rug, the pictures, the Impi s.h.i.+eld on the wall, the humidor. ... You see, it wasn't merely a question of killing a man. It was a question of killing a man in specific surroundings under specific circ.u.mstances. That's why I challenge your theory, Mr. Macgowan."

There was another silence while the fish plates were removed.

Then Berne, who was staring at him with fixed attention, said: "Backwards?" in a surprised voice. "I did notice that things were upset, and his clothes-"

"Twaddle," growled Dr. Kirk. "Young man, you're being intrigued by an obvious attempt at pure mystification. I can perceive no sensible motive for the criminal's having turned everything backwards except that of creating confusion for the sake of confusion. He was making it harder for the police. He was attempting to foster the illusion of a subtle crime to obscure its very navete. Or else he was a maniac."

"I'm not so sure of that, Doctor," said Miss Temple in her soft voice. "There's something about this-Mr. Queen, what do you think about it? I'm convinced you have some theory to account for this extraordinary crime."

"Generally, yes." Ellery mused, unsmiling, his eyes on the cloth. "Specifically, no. I should say, Doctor, that you'd hit the essential truth about this affair if not for one fact. But that fact, unfortunately, invalidates your argument."

"What's that, Mr. Queen?" asked Marcella breathlessly.

Ellery waved his hand. "Oh, it's nothing sensational, Miss Kirk. It's merely that there is in this crime, far from confusion-as your father maintains-actual pattern."

"Pattern?" frowned Macgowan.

"Unquestionably. Had one thing, or two, or three, or even four been turned backwards, I should agree to a certain feeling of confusion. But when everything movable has been turned backwards, when everything is confused-so to speak-then the confusion takes on meaning per se. It becomes a pattern of confusion; no longer, then, confusion at all. Here everything has been confused in the identical way. Everything movable has been turned backwards. Don't you see what that suggests?"

Berne said slowly: "Rot, Queen, rot. I don't believe it."

"I have the feeling," Ellery smiled, "that Miss Temple also sees what I mean, Mr. Berne-and perhaps even agrees with me. Eh, Miss Temple?"

"It may be the Chinese part of me again," the tiny woman said with a charming shrug. "You mean, Mr. Queen, that there's something about the crime, or some one connected with the crime, that possesses a backward significance? That some one turned everything backwards to point to something backwards about some one, if I make myself clear?"

"Jo-Miss Temple," cried Donald Kirk, "you can't believe that. It's-why, it's as far-fetched as anything I've ever heard!"

She glanced briefly at him and he fell back, silent. "It is esoteric," she murmured, "but then in China you come to accept queer, queer things."

"In China," grinned Ellery, "you apparently improve even a fine natural intelligence. That's precisely what I do mean, Miss Temple."

Berne chuckled. "This has been worth that foul crossing from Havre. My dear Miss Temple, if your book on China is half so esoteric, I'm afraid we're in for a merry time with the reviewers."

"Felix," said Kirk. "That's not kind."

"Miss Temple," said Miss Llewes in a velvety murmur, "evidently knows what she's talking about. Really brilliant! I don't see how in the world you ever grasped that, Miss Temple."

The tiny woman was pale; one of her small hands on the stem of her wine-gla.s.s was trembling.

And Berne said again, in the same cool casual voice: "I thought, Donald, you'd found a new Pearl Buck, but it begins to look as if you've unearthed merely a feminine Sherlock Holmes."

"d.a.m.n it!" growled Kirk, stumbling to his feet. "That's the rottenest thing I've ever heard you say, Felix. Take that back-"

"Heroics, Donald?" said Berne, raising his eyebrows.

"Donald!" roared Dr. Kirk. The tall dishevelled young man sank back in his chair, quivering. "Enough of that, Felix! I'm sure you will want to apologize to Miss Temple." There was an iron note in his rumbling voice.

Berne, who had not stirred, murmured: "No offense intended, Miss Temple." But his black eyes glittered strangely.

Ellery coughed. "Uh-my fault entirely. Really my fault." He fingered his wine-gla.s.s, studying its clear ruby contents.

"But for heaven's sake," said Marcella in a shrill voice, "I can't bear this much longer myself. I must know. Jo, you said ... Mr. Queen, who could have done such a thing? Left all those backward signs? The murderer? That poor little dead man?"

"Now, Marcella," began Macgowan.

"Not the victim," cooed Miss Llewes. "He died instantly, my dear, or so I've heard."

"Nor the murderer," said Kirk harshly. "No man would be fool enough to leave a clue pointing to himself. Unless he left the clue to point to some one else, some one he-he wanted to frame for the crime. That's a possibility, by G.o.d! I'll wager that's it!"

Dr. Kirk was scowling ferociously.

"Or," murmured Miss Temple in a hurried breathless voice, "all that may have been done by some one who came in after the crime, had seen or divined who did it, and took that very complicated way of leaving a trail to the criminal for the police."

"Score again, Miss Temple," said Ellery quickly. "You've the a.n.a.lytical mind par excellence."

"Or," drawled Felix Berne, "the murderer was the Mad Hatter, and he did the whole thing to incriminate the Walrus and the Carpenter. Or might it have been the Ches.h.i.+re Cat?"

"You will please," thundered Dr. Kirk, his eyes blazing, "stop this nonsensical speculation at once. At once, do you hear? Mr. Queen, I hold you accountable. Strictly accountable! If it is your intention, sir, to hold an inquiry-obviously you're suspicious of all of us-I should appreciate your doing it under official circ.u.mstances, and not when you are a guest at my table. Otherwise, I shall be obliged to ask you to leave!"

"Father!" whispered Marcella in a sick voice.

"Father, for heaven's sake-"

Ellery said quietly: "I a.s.sure you, Dr. Kirk, I had no such intention. However, since my presence seems undesirable, I'm sure you will excuse me. I'm sorry, Kirk."

"Queen," muttered Kirk miserably, "I-"

Ellery pushed back his chair and rose. In the act of rising he tipped over his wine-gla.s.s, and the red liquid splashed over Donald Kirk's tweeds.

"Clumsy of me," murmured Ellery, seizing a napkin with his left hand and dabbing at the stains. "And such excellent port, too. ..."

"It's nothing, nothing. Don't-"

"Well, good evening," said Ellery pleasantly, and strode from the room leaving a thick and heavy silence behind him.