Free Chinese Orange Mystery by Ellery Queen Page A

up and asked me to climb into my dinner-clothes, amble up here, keep my eyes open—particularly to keep my eyes open. …”
    The young man shifted in the chair. “Oh, yes,” he said tonelessly. “I did, didn’t I?”
    Ellery flicked ashes into a receiver without taking his eyes off Kirk. “Would you mind elucidating, old man? We’d met casually—scarcely were friendly enough to warrant a sudden dinner invitation with strangers out of the blue—”
    “Why?” Kirk wet dry lips. “Why, no special reason, Queen. Just—just a little joke of mine.”
    “Joke? I’m afraid I don’t see the point. Joke to ask me to keep my eyes open?”
    “That was just my subtle way of insuring your coming. Matter of fact,” continued Kirk in a rapid low voice, laughing hollowly, “I had a deep and dirty reason for getting you up here. Wanted you to meet Felix Berne, my partner. I was afraid you’d refuse if I asked you point-blank—”
    Ellery laughed. “So that’s it. A professional approach?”
    Kirk grinned eagerly. “Yes, yes, that’s it. We don’t as a rule publish your sort of thing—”
    “You’re thinking of a different word, I’ll wager,” chuckled Ellery. “Kirk, I’m astonished. Piracy, by George! I thought publishers had some conception of ethics. Don’t tell me you’re really thinking of publishing a detective story?”
    “Something like that. Times aren’t very good in the business, you know. Detective stories enjoy consistently good sales—”
    “Don’t believe all you hear,” said Ellery sadly. “Well, well. I must say I’m bowled over. The great Mandarin Press. What will Harry Hansen and Lewis Gannett say? And Alec? Even though he does love a good juicy homicide filled with Greeks and one-syllable Anglo-Saxon words? Dear, dear. … I don’t think my present publisher will care for the idea.”
    “It was just a thought,” muttered Kirk.
    “Oh, no doubt,” murmured Ellery.
    Glenn Macgowan was glancing over at Kirk with a curious uneasiness. Kirk seemed aware of Macgowan’s interest and shut his eyes. “I wonder,” he mumbled after a time, “where Felix is.”
    “Berne? Good Lord! I’d forgotten all about him.” And then, without warning, Ellery leaned forward and jabbed Kirk’s knees. There was a spasmodic jerk and the young man’s eyes flew open, bloodshot and frightened. “Kirk,” said Ellery softly, “ let me see that note Macgowan left with Osborne for you .”
    “No,” said Kirk.
    “Kirk, give me that note!”
    “No. You’ve no right asking me. It’s—it’s personal. Macgowan’s my intended brother-in-law. He’s virtually one of the family. I can’t divulge—”
    “Are you being deliberately incoherent,” said Ellery, still softly, “or do you mean to imply that his note referred not to you but to some one connected with both of you? To be specific—your sister Marcella?”
    Kirk groaned. “For God’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 glasses 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 cocktails 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 cocktail, caught a curious expression of distaste on Marcella’s face; even Macgowan seemed disgusted. Kirk alone was