Earl Derr Biggers: Complete 11 Novels in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers

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bank, eh? And then—"

      "The South Seas. Just—wandering about—I was restless—"

      "Beach-combing, eh?"

      Egan flushed. "I may have been on my uppers at times, but damn it—"

      "Wait a minute," Hallet cut in. "What I want to know is—those years you were drifting about—did you by any chance run into Dan Winterslip?"

      "I—I might have."

      "What sort of an answer is that! Yes or no?"

      "Well, as a matter of fact, I did," Egan admitted. "Just once—in Melbourne. But it was a quite unimportant meeting. So unimportant Winterslip had completely forgotten it."

      "But you hadn't. And yesterday morning, after twenty-three years' silence between you, you called him on the telephone. On rather sudden business."

      "I did."

      Hallet came closer. "All right, Egan. We've reached the important part of your story. What was that business?"

      A tense silence fell in the little office as they awaited Egan's answer. The Englishman looked Hallet calmly in the eye. "I can't tell you that," he said.

      Hallet's face reddened. "Oh, yes, you can. And you're going to."

      "Never," answered Egan, without raising his voice.

      The captain glared at him. "You don't seem to realize your position."

      "I realize it perfectly."

      "If you and I were alone—"

      "I won't tell you under any circumstances, Hallet."

      "Maybe you'll tell the prosecutor—"

      "Look here," cried Egan wearily. "Why must I say it over and over? I'll tell nobody my business with Winterslip. Nobody, understand!" He crushed the half-smoked cigarette savagely down on to a tray at his side.

      John Quincy saw Hallet nod to Chan. He saw the Chinaman's pudgy little hand go out and seize the remnant of cigarette. A happy grin spread over the Oriental's fat face. He handed the stub to his chief.

      "Corsican brand!" he cried triumphantly.

      "Ah, yes," said Hallet. "This your usual smoke?"

      A startled look crossed Egan's tired face. "No, it's not," he said.

      "It's a make that's not on sale in the Islands, I believe?"

      "No, I fancy it isn't."

      Captain Hallet held out his hand. "Give me your cigarette case, Egan." The Englishman passed it over, and Hallet opened it. "Humph," he said. "You've managed to get hold of a few, haven't you?"

      "Yes. They were—given me."

      "Is that so? Who gave them to you?"

      Egan considered. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, either," he said.

      Hallet's eyes glittered angrily. "Let me give you a few facts," he began. "You called on Dan Winterslip last night, you entered and left by the front door, and you didn't go back. Yet just outside the door leading directly into the living-room, we have found a partly smoked cigarette of this unusual brand. Now will you tell me who gave you these Corsicans?"

      "No," said Egan, "I won't."

      Hallet slipped the silver cigarette case into his pocket, and stood up. "Very well," he remarked. "I've wasted all the time I intend to here. The district court prosecutor will want to talk to you—"

      "Of course," agreed Egan, "I'll come and see him—this afternoon—"

      Hallet glared at him. "Quit kidding yourself and get your hat!"

      Egan rose too. "Look here," he cried, "I don't like your manner. It's true there are certain matters in connection with Winterslip I can't discuss, and that's unfortunate. But surely you don't think I killed the man. What motive would I have—"

      Jennison rose quickly from his seat on the window-ledge and stepped forward. "Hallet," he said, "there's something I ought to tell you. Two or three years ago Dan Winterslip and I were walking along King Street, and we passed Mr. Egan here. Winterslip nodded toward him. 'I'm afraid of that man, Harry,' he said. I waited to hear more, but he didn't go on, and he wasn't the sort of client one would prompt. 'I'm afraid of that man, Harry.' Just that, and nothing further."

      "It's enough," remarked Hallet grimly. "Egan, you're going with me."

      Egan's eyes flashed. "Of course," he cried bitterly. "Of course I'm going with you. You're all against me, the whole town is against me, I've been sneered at and belittled for twenty years. Because I was poor. An out-cast, my daughter humiliated, not good enough to associate with these New England blue-bloods—these thin-lipped Puritans with a touch of sun—"

      At sound of that familiar phrase, John Quincy sat up. Where, where—oh, yes, on the Oakland ferry—

      "Never mind that," Hallet was saying. "I'll give you one last chance. Will you tell me what I want to know?"

      "I will not," cried Egan.

      "All right. Then come along."

      "Am I under arrest?" asked Egan.

      "I didn't say that," replied Hallet, suddenly cautious. "The investigation is young yet. You are withholding much needed information, and I believe that after you've spent a few hours at the station, you'll change your mind and talk. In fact, I'm sure of it. I haven't any warrant, but your position will be a lot more dignified if you come willingly without one."

      Egan considered a moment. "I fancy you're right," he said. "I have certain orders to give the servants, if you don't mind—"

      Hallet nodded. "Make it snappy. Charlie will go with you."

      Egan and the Chinaman disappeared. The captain, John Quincy and Jennison went out and sat down in the public room. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen—

      Jennison glanced at his watch. "See here, Hallet," he said. "The man's making a monkey of you—"

      Hallet reddened, and stood up. At that instant Egan and Chan came down the big open stairway at one side of the room. Hallet went up to the Englishman.

      "Say, Egan—what are you doing? Playing for time?"

      Egan smiled. "That's precisely what I'm doing," he replied. "My daughter's coming in this morning on the Matsonia—the boat ought to be at the dock now. She's been at school on the mainland, and I haven't seen her for nine months. You've done me out of the pleasure of meeting her, but in a few minutes—"

      "Nothing doing," cried Hallet. "Now you get your hat. I'm pau."

      Egan hesitated a moment, then slowly took his battered old straw hat from the desk. The five men walked through the blooming garden toward Hallet's car. As they emerged into the street, a taxi drew up to the curb. Egan ran forward, and the girl John Quincy had last seen at the gateway to San Francisco

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