Boats were sailing almost daily, were they? Well, let them sail. He would be on one some day—but not until he had brought Dan Winterslip's murderer to justice.
Life had a new glamour now. Look out? He'd be looking—and enjoying it, too. He smiled happily to himself as he took off his coat. This was better than selling bonds in Boston.
Chapter XVIII. A Cable From the Mainland
John Quincy awoke at nine the following morning, and slipped from under his mosquito netting eager to face the responsibilities of a new day. On the floor near his bureau lay the letter designed to speed the parting guest. He picked it up and read it again with manifest enjoyment.
When he reached the dining-room Haku informed him that Miss Minerva and Barbara had breakfasted early and gone to the city on a shopping tour.
"Look here, Haku," the boy said. "A letter came for me late last night?"
"Yes-s," admitted Haku.
"Who delivered it?"
"Can not say. It were found on floor of hall close by big front door."
"Who found it?"
"Kamaikui."
"Oh, yes—Kamaikui."
"I tell her to put in your sleeping room."
"Did Kamaikui see the person who brought it?"
"Nobody see him. Nobody on place."
"All right," John Quincy said.
He spent a leisurely hour on the lanai with his pipe and the morning paper. At about half past ten he got out the roadster and drove to the police station.
Hallet and Chan, he was told, were in a conference with the prosecutor. He sat down to wait, and in a few moments word came for him to join them. Entering Greene's office, he saw the three men seated gloomily about the prosecutor's desk.
"Well, I guess I'm some detective," he announced.
Greene looked up quickly. "Found anything new?"
"Not precisely," John Quincy admitted. "But last night when I was walking along Kalakaua Avenue with a young woman, somebody took a couple of wild shots at me from the bushes. And when I got home I found this letter waiting."
He handed the epistle to Hallet, who read it with evident disgust, then passed it on to the prosecutor "That doesn't get us anywhere," the captain said.
"It may get me somewhere, if I'm not careful," John Quincy replied. "However, I'm rather proud of it. Sort of goes to show that my detective work is hitting home."
"Maybe," answered Hallet, carelessly.
Greene laid the letter on his desk. "My advice to you," he said, "is to carry a gun. That's unofficial, of course."
"Nonsense, I'm not afraid," John Quincy told him. "I've got a pretty good idea who sent this thing."
"You have?" Greene said.
"Yes. He's a friend of Captain Hallet's. Dick Kaohla."
"What do you mean he's a friend of mine?" flared Hallet.
"Well, you certainly treated him pretty tenderly the other night."
"I knew what I was doing," said Hallet grouchily.
"I hope you did. But if he puts a bullet in me some lovely evening, I'm going to be pretty annoyed with you."
"Oh, you're in no danger," Hallet answered. "Only a coward writes anonymous letters."
"Yes, and only a coward shoots from ambush. But that isn't saying he can't take a good aim."
Hallet picked up the letter. "I'll keep this. It may prove to be evidence."
"Surely," agreed John Quincy. "And you haven't got any too much evidence, as I see it."
"Is that so?" growled Hallet. "We've made a rather important discovery about that Corsican cigarette."
"Oh, I'm not saying Charlie isn't good," smiled John Quincy. "I was with him when he worked that out."
A uniformed man appeared at the door. "Egan and his daughter and Captain Cope," he announced to Greene. "Want to see them now, sir?"
"Send them in," ordered the prosecutor.
"I'd like to stay, if you don't mind," John Quincy suggested.
"Oh, by all means," Greene answered. "We couldn't get along without you."
The policeman brought Egan to the door, and the proprietor of the Reef and Palm came into the room. His face was haggard and pale; his long siege with the authorities had begun to tell. But a stubborn light still flamed in his eyes. After him came Carlota Egan, fresh and beautiful, and with a new air of confidence about her. Captain Cope followed, tall, haughty, a man of evident power and determination.
"This is the prosecutor, I believe?" he said. "Ah, Mr. Winterslip; I find you everywhere I go."
"You don't mind my staying?" inquired John Quincy.
"Not in the least, my boy. Our business here will take but a moment." He turned to Greene. "Just as a preliminary," he continued, "I am Captain Arthur Temple Cope of the British Admiralty, and this gentleman"—he nodded toward the proprietor of the Reef and Palm—"is my brother."
"Really?" said Greene. "His name is Egan, as I understand it."
"His name is James Egan Cope," the captain replied. "He dropped the Cope many years ago for reasons that do not concern us now. I am here simply to say, sir, that you are holding my brother on the flimsiest pretext I have ever encountered in the course of my rather extensive travels. If necessary, I propose to engage the best lawyer in Honolulu and have him free by night. But I'm giving you this last chance to release him and avoid a somewhat painful expose of the sort of nonsense you go in for."
John Quincy glanced at Carlota Egan. Her eyes were shining but not on him. They were on her uncle.
Greene flushed slightly. "A good bluff, Captain, is always worth trying," he said.
"Oh, then you admit you've been bluffing," said Cope quickly.
"I was referring to your attitude, sir," Greene replied.
"Oh, I see," Cope said. "I'll sit down, if you don't mind. As I understand it, you have two things against old Jim here. One is that he visited Dan Winterslip on the night of the murder, and now refuses to divulge the nature of that call. The other is the stub of a Corsican cigarette which was found by the walk outside the door of Winterslip's living-room."
Greene shook his head. "Only the first," he responded. "The Corsican cigarette is no longer evidence against
