at all," Miss Minerva assured him. "We shall need all the help we can get."
Captain Hallet had taken a paper from his pocket. He faced John Quincy.
"Young man," he began, "I said I wanted to meet you. Last night Miss Winterslip told me of a cablegram received by the dead man about a week ago, which she said angered him greatly. I happen to have a copy of that message, turned over to me by the cable people. I'll read it to you:
"John Quincy sailing on President Tyler stop owing to unfortunate accident he leaves here with empty hands. Signed, Roger Winterslip."
"Yes?" said John Quincy haughtily.
"Explain that, if you will."
John Quincy stiffened. "The matter was strictly private," he said. "A family affair."
Captain Hallet glared at him. "You're mistaken," he replied. "Nothing that concerns Mr. Dan Winterslip is private now. Tell me what that cable meant, and be quick about it. I'm busy this morning."
John Quincy glared back. The man didn't seem to realize to whom he was talking. "I've already said—" he began.
"John Quincy," snapped Miss Minerva. "Do as you're told!"
Oh, well, if she wanted family secrets aired in public! Reluctantly John Quincy explained about Dan Winterslip's letter, and the misadventure in the attic of Dan's San Francisco house.
"An ohia wood box bound with copper," repeated the captain. "Initials on it, T. M. B. Got that, Charlie?"
"It is written in the book," said Chan.
"Any idea what was in that box?" asked Hallet.
"Not the slightest," John Quincy told him.
Hallet turned to Miss Minerva. "You knew nothing about this?" She assured him she did not. "Well," he continued, "one thing more and we'll go along. We've been making a thorough search of the premises by daylight—without much success, I'm sorry to say. However, by the cement walk just outside that door"—he pointed to the screen door leading from the living-room into the garden—"Charlie made a discovery."
Chan stepped forward, holding a small white object in the palm of his hand.
"One-half cigarette, incompletely consumed," he announced. "Very recent, not weather stained. It are of the brand denominated Corsican, assembled in London and smoked habitually by Englishmen."
Hallet again addressed Miss Minerva. "Did Dan Winterslip smoke cigarettes?"
"He did not," she replied. "Cigars and a pipe, but never cigarettes."
"You were the only other person living here."
"I haven't acquired the cigarette habit," snapped Miss Minerva. "Though undoubtedly it's not too late yet."
"The servants, perhaps?" went on Hallet.
"Some of the servants may smoke cigarettes, but hardly of this quality. I take it these are not on sale in Honolulu?"
"They're not," said the captain. "But Charlie tells me they're put up in air-tight tins and shipped to Englishmen the world over. Well, stow that away, Charlie." The Chinaman tenderly placed the half cigarette, incompletely consumed, in his pocketbook. "I'm going on down the beach now to have a little talk with Mr. Jim Egan," the captain added.
"I'll go with you," Jennison offered. "I may be able to supply a link or two there."
"Sure, come along," Hallet replied cordially.
"Captain Hallet," put in Miss Minerva, "it is my wish that some member of the family keep in touch with what you are doing, in order that we may give you all the aid we can. My nephew would like to accompany you—"
"Pardon me," said John Quincy coldly, "you're quite wrong. I have no intention of joining the police force."
"Well, just as you say," remarked Hallet. He turned to Miss Minerva. "I'm relying on you, at any rate. You've got a good mind. Anybody can see that."
"Thank you," she said.
"As good as a man's," he added.
"Oh, now you've spoiled it. Good morning."
The three men went through the screen door into the bright sunshine of the garden. John Quincy was aware that he was not in high favor with his aunt.
"I'll go up and change," he said uncomfortably "We'll talk things over later—"
He went into the hall. At the foot of the stairs he paused.
From above came a low, heart-breaking moan of anguish. Barbara. Poor Barbara, who had been so happy less than an hour ago.
John Quincy felt his head go hot, the blood pound in his temples. How dare any one strike down a Winterslip! How dare any one inflict this grief on his Cousin Barbara! He clenched his fists and stood for a moment, feeling that he, too, could kill.
Action—he must have action! He rushed through the living-room, past the astonished Miss Minerva. In the drive stood a car, the three men were already in it.
"Wait a minute," called John Quincy. "I'm going with you."
"Hop in," said Captain Hallet.
The car rolled down the drive and out on to the hot asphalt of Kalia Road. John Quincy sat erect, his eyes flashing, by the side of a huge grinning Chinaman.
Chapter IX. At the Reef and Palm
They reached Kalakaua Avenue and swerving sharply to the right, Captain Hallet stepped on the gas. Since the car was without a top, John Quincy was getting an unrestricted view of this land that lay at his journey's end. As a small boy squirming about on the hard pew in the First Unitarian Church, he had heard much of Heaven, and his youthful imagination had pictured it as something like this. A warm, rather languid country, freshly painted in the gaudiest colors available.
Creamy white clouds wrapped the tops of the distant mountains, and their slopes were bright with tropical foliage. John Quincy heard near at hand the low monotone of breakers lapping the shore. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of apple-green water and a dazzling white stretch of sand. "Oh, Waikiki! Oh, scene of peace—" What was the rest of that poem his Aunt Minerva had quoted in her last letter—the one in which she had announced that she was staying on indefinitely. "And looking down from tum-tum skies, the angels smile on Waikiki." Sentimental, but sentiment was one of Hawaii's chief exports. One had only to look at the place to understand and forgive.
John Quincy had not delayed for a hat, and the sun was beating down fiercely on his brown head. Charlie Chan glanced at him.
"Humbly begging pardon," remarked the Chinaman, "would say it is unadvisable to venture forth without headgear. Especially since you are a malihini."
"A what?"
"The term carries no offense. Malihini—stranger,
