never seen him before, but one of the men told me he was Captain Cope, of the British Admiralty."
"Why should Captain Cope want to see your father?"
"I haven't a notion. Do you know him?"
"Yes—I've met him," John Quincy told her.
"Don't you think he's wonderful-looking?" Her dark eyes glowed.
"Oh, he's all right," replied John Quincy without enthusiasm. "You know, I can't help feeling that things are looking up for you."
"I feel that too," she said.
"What do you say we celebrate?" he suggested. "Go out among 'em and get a little taste of night life. I'm a bit fed up on the police station. What do people do here in the evening? The movies?"
"Just at present," the girl told him, "everybody visits Punahou to see the night-blooming cereus. It's the season now, you know."
"Sounds like a big evening," John Quincy laughed. "Go and look at the flowers. Well, I'm for it. Will you come?"
"Of course." She gave a few directions to the clerk, then joined him by the door. "I can run down and get the roadster," he offered.
"Oh, no," she smiled. "I'm sure I'll never own a motor-car, and it might make me discontented to ride in one. The trolley's my carriage—and it's lots of fun. One meets so many interesting people."
On the stone walls surrounding the campus of Oahu College, the strange flower that blooms only on a summer night was heaped in snowy splendor. John Quincy had been a bit lukewarm regarding the expedition when they set out, but he saw his error now. For here was beauty, breath-taking and rare. Before the walls paraded a throng of sight-seers; they joined the procession. The girl was a charming companion, her spirits had revived and she chatted vivaciously. Not about Shaw and the art galleries, true enough, but bright human talk that John Quincy liked to hear.
He persuaded her to go to the city for a maidenly ice-cream soda, and it was ten o'clock when they returned to the beach. They left the trolley at a stop some distance down the avenue from the Reef and Palm, and strolled slowly toward the hotel. The sidewalk was lined at their right by dense foliage, almost impenetrable. The night was calm; the street lamps shone brightly; the paved street gleamed white in the moonlight. John Quincy was talking of Boston.
"I think you'd like it there. It's old and settled, but—"
From the foliage beside them came the flash of a pistol, and John Quincy heard a bullet sing close to his head. Another flash, another bullet. The girl gave a startled little cry.
John Quincy circled round her and plunged into the bushes. Angry branches stung his cheek. He stopped; he couldn't leave the girl alone. He returned to her side.
"What did that mean?" he asked, amazed. He stared in wonder at the peaceful scene before him.
"I—I don't know." She took his arm. "Come—hurry!"
"Don't be afraid," he said reassuringly.
"Not for myself," she answered.
They went on to the hotel, greatly puzzled. But when they entered the lobby, they had something else to think about. Captain Arthur Temple Cope was standing by the desk, and he came at once to meet them.
"This is Miss Egan, I believe. Ah, Winterslip, how are you?" He turned again to the girl. "I've taken a room here, if you don't mind."
"Why, not at all," she gasped.
"I talked with your father this morning. I didn't know about his trouble until I had boarded a ship for the Fanning Islands. I came back as quickly as I could."
"You came back—" She stared at him.
"Yes. I came back to help him."
"That's very kind of you," the girl said. "But I'm afraid I don't understand—"
"Oh, no, you don't understand. Naturally." The captain smiled down at her. "You see, Jim's my young brother. You're my niece, and your name is Carlota Maria Cope. I fancy I've persuaded old Jim to own up to us at last."
The girl's dark eyes were wide. "I—I think you're a very nice uncle," she said at last.
"Do you really?" The captain bowed. "I aim to be," he added.
John Quincy stepped forward. "Pardon me," he said. "I'm afraid I'm intruding. Good night, Captain."
"Good night, my boy," Cope answered.
The girl went with John Quincy to the balcony. "I—don't know what to make of it," she said.
"Things are coming rather fast," John Quincy admitted. He remembered the Corsican cigarette. "I wouldn't trust him too far," he admonished.
"But he's so wonderful—"
"Oh, he's all right, probably. But looks are often deceptive. I'll go along now and let you talk with him."
She laid one slim tanned hand on his white-clad arm "Do be careful!"
"Oh, I'm all right," he told her.
"But some one shot at you."
"Yes, and a very poor aim he had, too. Don't worry about me." She was very close, her eyes glowing in the dark. "You said you weren't afraid for yourself," he added. "Did you mean—"
"I meant—I was afraid—for you."
The moon, of course, was shining. The cocoa-palms turned their heads away at the suggestion of the trades. The warm waters of Waikiki murmured near by. John Quincy Winterslip, from Boston and immune, drew the girl to him and kissed her. Not a cousinly kiss, either—but why should it have been? She wasn't his cousin.
"Thank you, my dear," he said. He seemed to be floating dizzily in space. It came to him that he might reach out and pluck her a handful of stars.
It came to him a second later that, despite his firm resolve, he had done it again. Kissed another girl. Three—that made three with whom he was sort of entangled.
"Good night," he said huskily, and leaping over the rail, fled hastily through the garden.
Three girls now—but he hadn't a single regret. He was living at last. As he hurried through the dark along the beach, his heart was light. Once he fancied he was being followed, but he gave it little thought. What of it?
On the bureau in his room he found an envelope with his name typewritten on the outside. The note within was typewritten too. He read:
"You are too busy out here. Hawaii can manage her affairs without the interference of a malihini. Boats sail almost daily. If you are still here forty-eight hours after you get this—look out! To-night's shots were fired into the air. The aim will quickly improve!"
Delighted, John Quincy tossed the note aside. Threatening him, eh? His activities as a detective were bearing fruit. He recalled the glowering face of Kaohla when he said: "You did this. I don't forget." And a remark of Dan Winterslip's his aunt had quoted: "Civilized—yes. But far underneath there are deep dark waters flowing
