The Chinese Orange Mystery

a smothered voice from the depths of the pillow.

“ ‘Cause some one’s waiting here to see you.”

Ellery bolted upright, the glasses dangling from his ear. “Well, of all the exasperating?! Why didn’t you say so before, homunculus? Who is it? How long has he been waiting?” He scrambled out of bed and reached for his dressing-gown.

“It’s a Mr. Macgowan, an’ how’d you know it was a ‘he’?” demanded Djuna with restrained admiration, lounging against the door.

“Macgowan? That’s strange,” muttered Ellery. “Oh, that! Very simple, number one boy. You see, there are only two sexes?not taking into account certain accidents of nature. So it was at the very least a fifty-fifty guess.”

“G’on,” said Djuna with a disbelieving grin, and vanished. Then he materialized again, sticking his gamin head back into the room, and said: “Got the coffee on the table,” and vanished once more.

When Ellery emerged into the Queens’ living-room he found tall Glenn Macgowan pacing restlessly up and down before the fire that crackled in the grate. He ceased his patrol abruptly. “Ah, Queen. I’m sorry. Had no idea I’d be routing you out of bed.”

Ellery shook his big hand lazily. “Not at all. You did me a service; there’s no telling when I’d have got up. Join me in some breakfast, Macgowan?”

“Had mine, thank you. But don’t let me stop you. I can wait.”

“I hope,” chuckled Ellery, “you’re cultivating what Bishop Heber was pleased to term ‘Swift’s Eighth Beatitude,’ although it’s really Popish in origin.”

“I beg your pardon?” gasped Macgowan.

“Popish advisedly. I meant Pope. In a letter to John Gay he wrote: ‘Blessed is he who expects nothing for he shall never be disappointed.’ I don’t feel in the donative mood this morning . . . . Well, well! I find I’m ravenous, now that I put my mind to it. We can talk while I’m refueling.” Ellery sat down and reached for his orange-juice, leaving Macgowan with a partly open mouth. He observed that one bright young eye was fixed to the crack of the kitchen door?fixed very curiously upon his visitor. “Sure you won’t join me?”

“Quite.” Macgowan hesitated. “Er?do you always talk this way before breakfast, Queen?”

Ellery grinned as he gulped. “I’m sorry. It’s a nasty habit.”

Macgowan resumed his pacing. Then he stopped short jerkily and said: “Ah, Queen. Sorry about the other night. Dr. Kirk’s unpredictable. I assure you Marcella and I?all of us?felt very badly about the whole dismal business. Of course, the old gentleman’s exercising the prerogative of senility. He’s a tyrant.. And besides, he doesn’t understand the necessities of official investigation?”

“Quite all right,” said Ellery cheerfully, munching toast. And he said nothing more, seeming content to leave the conversation to his visitor.

“Well.” Macgowan shook his head suddenly and sat down in an armchair by the fire. “I imagine you’re wondering why I’ve come here this morning.”

Ellery raised his cup. “Well, I’m human, I suppose. I can’t say I was precisely prepared for it.”

Macgowan laughed a little gloomily. “Of course, I did want to express my apologies personally. I feel like one of the Kirk family, now that Marcella and I . . . Look here, Queen.”

Ellery sank back with a sigh, dabbing his lips with his napkin. He offered Macgowan a cigaret, which the big man refused, and took one himself. “Therel” he said. “That’s worlds better. Well, Macgowan? I’m looking.”

They studied each other in silence for some time, quite without expression. Then Macgowan began to fumble in his inner breast-pocket. “Y’know, I can’t quite make you out, Queen. I get the feeling that you know a good deal more than you pretend?”

“I’m like the grasshopper,” murmured Ellery. “Protective coloration. Really, that’s an air cultivated for purposes of my avocation, Macgowan.” He squinted at his cigaret. “I assume you have the murder in mind?”

“Yes.”

“I know nothing. I know,” said Ellery sadly, “rather less than nothing, when it comes to that. I might, however, ask you what you know.” Macgowan started. “I hadn’t got round to you, you see. But you do know something, and I think it would be wise for you to let me share your knowledge. I’m the repository for more secrets than you could throw at a dead cat, if that’s the polite custom. I’m unofficial?blessed state, you understand. I tell what I think should be told and keep all the rest to myself.”

Macgowan stroked his long jaw nervously. “I don’t know what you mean. I holding something back? Really?”

Ellery eyed him calmly. Then he put the cigaret back into his mouth and smoked with a thoughtful air. “Dear, dear. I must be losing my grip. Well, Macgowan, what’s on your mind?or rather in your hand?”

Macgowan unfolded his big fist and Ellery saw in the broad palm a small leather object, like a card-case. “This,” he said.

“One case, leather or leatherette. Unfortunately I haven’t X-ray eyes. Let’s have it, please.”

But without taking his eyes off the case in his hand and without raising his hand Macgowan said: “I’ve just purchased?what’s in this case. Something valuable. It’s pure coincidence, of course, but I believe in anticipating trouble?trouble that might lead me into some embarrassment, though I assure you I’m perfectly innocent of any . . . “ Ellery watched the man unblinkingly. He was extraordinarily nervous. “There’s nothing in it for me to conceal, but if I neglected to mention it, some one of the police, I fancy, might find out. That would be awkward, perhaps unpleasant. So?”

“Obviously inspection is called for,” murmured Ellery. “What are you talking about, Macgowan?”

Macgowan handed him the leather case.

Ellery turned it over in his fingers curiously, with that deliberate detachment which years of examination of strange objects had bred in him. It was made of a plain morocco, black, and apparently operated on a simple spring-catch arrangement. He pressed the small button and the lid flew back. Inside the case, imbedded in a hollow of satin, lay a rectangular envelope of stiff milky glassine. And in the envelope, incased in a pochette, lay a postage stamp.

Silently Macgowan produced a stamp-tongs of nickel and offered it to Ellery. Ellery opened the envelope and with the tongs, rather clumsily, extracted the pochette. The stamp showed clearly through the cellophane. It was an oversize stamp, wider than deep, and perforated evenly along its four edges. The border was an ochre-yellow in color, and the bottom was designed as a sort of Chinese flower-garland. In the two lower corners appeared the denomination of the stamp: $1. In squat ochre letters running across the top of the border was the word: Foochow, capitalized.

But inside the border, where even to Ellery’s untrained eye it was evident that there should have been a pictorial design of some kind in another color, there was?nothing. Merely the blank white paper of the stamp.

“That’s funny, isn’t it?” murmured Ellery. “I’m not a philatelist, but I can’t remember ever having seen or heard of a stamp that was blank in the center of the design. What’s the idea, anyway, Macgowan?”

“Hold it up to the light,” said Macgowan quietly.

Ellery flung him a sharp glance and obeyed. And instantly he saw, through the thin paper, a very charming little scene in black. In the foreground there was what appeared to be a long ceremonial canoe of some kind, filled with natives; and in the background a harbor scene; obviously, from the legend at the top, a view of the harbor of Foochow.

“Amazing,” he said. “Perfectly amazing.” And something glittered in his eye as he flung Macgowan another sharp glance.

Macgowan said in the same quiet voice: “Turn the stamp over.”