Free Chinese Orange Mystery by Ellery Queen

you—”
    “I was out walking all afternoon,” said Kirk from stiff lips.
    “With anybody?” murmured the Inspector.
    “No.”
    “Where’d you go?”
    “Oh—Broadway. Fifth Avenue, the Park.”
    “As a matter of fact,” said Ellery softly in the silence that followed, “I bumped into Kirk in the lobby downstairs. Quite evidently came in from out of doors; eh, Kirk?”
    “Of course: Surely.”
    “I see,” said the Inspector, and fumbled for his snuffbox again. Miss Temple turned her head far aside. “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” continued the old gentleman in the quietest voice imaginable. “That’s all for tonight. Please don’t leave town until you hear from me, any of you.”
    The Inspector nodded to Sergeant Velie, and the Sergeant silently opened the door. They filed out like prisoners, to be swallowed instantly by the reporters.
    Ellery was the last to leave. As he passed his father their eyes met. The old man’s were inscrutable. Ellery shook his head and went on. In the corridor, smoking indolently, stood two white-uniformed men. They were flicking their ashes into a huge crate-like basket on the floor, regarding the shouting newspapermen with amusement.
    “We really,” said Marcella Kirk in a small voice when they had escaped the clutches of the press and were assembled in safety in the salon of the Kirk suite, “we really should be having dinner, I suppose.”
    Old Dr. Kirk roused himself. “Yes, yes, by all means,” he said heavily. “A splendid idea, my dear. I’m ravenous. We mustn’t—” He stopped short in the middle of the sentence, quite unconsciously. His saturnine face was etched in lines of troubled thought.
    “I, too,” said Glenn Macgowan quickly with a forced laugh. He gripped Marcella’s hand. “I think we’ve had enough of horrors for one night; eh, darling?”
    She smiled up at him, murmured an apology, and hurried out.
    Ellery stood in a corner by himself, feeling almost guilty. It was quite as if they considered him a prying interloper, a spy. Dr. Kirk in particular shot venomous glares his way. He felt distinctly uncomfortable. And yet something warned him to stay. There was that one puzzling matter. …
    Donald Kirk had sunk into a chair, his head on his breast; occasionally he passed his hand with a sort of dazed desperation through his hair. Dr. Kirk, wheeling his chair furiously about the room talking to his guests, shifted his glance from time to time to his son with something pained and uneasy in his icy old eyes. Miss Temple sat very quietly, even smiling a little. Only Irene Llewes made no effort to dissemble. It was as if she, too, felt herself an intruder; and as if, like Ellery, she had her own reasons for remaining where she was not wanted.
    Ellery sucked a tortured fingernail and awaited his opportunity. Then, when he thought the moment had come, he crossed the room and sat down in a Queen Anne chair beside Donald Kirk.
    The young man looked up with a start. “Uh—Queen. Sorry I’m such rotten company. I don’t—”
    “Nonsense, Kirk.” Ellery lit a cigaret. “I’m going to be honest with you, old fellow. There’s something in the wind—the wind blowing your way. Don’t have to be an Einstein to arrive at that conclusion. Something’s bothering you, dreadfully. You weren’t out walking all afternoon, despite the fact that I met you in the lobby; I have a notion your appearance in the lobby was for the benefit of the public.” Kirk drew in his breath sharply. “You lied, Kirk, and you know you lied. Why don’t you tell the truth and clear yourself? I think you know me well enough to feel assured of my discretion.”
    Kirk bit his lip and stared sullenly down at his hands.
    Ellery studied him for a moment and then sank back, smoking. “Very well,” he murmured. “It’s apparently something personal. … By the way, Kirk, to get back to more mundane things. You were fearfully mysterious with me late this afternoon. Called me