now to hear the voices of those ashore, gay voices calling flippant greetings. The big ship edged gingerly closer.
"There's Aunt Minerva," cried John Quincy suddenly. That little touch of home in the throng was very pleasant. "Is that your father with her?" He indicated a tall anemic man at Minerva's side.
"I don't see—where—" Barbara began. "Oh—that—why, that's Uncle Amos!"
"Oh, is that Amos?" remarked John Quincy, without interest. But Barbara had gripped his arm, and as he turned he saw a wild alarm in her eyes.
"What do you suppose that means?" she cried. "I don't see dad. I don't see him anywhere."
"Oh, he's in that crowd somewhere—"
"No, no—you don't understand! Uncle Amos! I'm—I'm frightened."
John Quincy didn't gather what it was all about, and there was no time to find out. Jennison was pushing ahead through the crowd, making a path for Barbara, and the boy meekly brought up the rear. They were among the first down the plank. Miss Minerva and Amos were waiting at the foot.
"My dear." Miss Minerva put her arms about the girl and kissed her gently. She turned to John Quincy. "Well, here you are—"
There was something lacking in this welcome. John Quincy sensed it at once.
"Where's dad?" Barbara cried.
"I'll explain in the car—" Miss Minerva began.
"No, now! Now! I must know now!"
The crowd was surging about them, calling happy greetings, the Royal Hawaiian Band was playing a gay tune, carnival was in the air.
"Your father is dead, my dear," said Miss Minerva.
John Quincy saw the girl's slim figure sway gently, but it was Harry Jennison's strong arm that caught her.
For a moment she stood, with Jennison's arm about her. "All right," she said. "I'm ready to go home." And walked like a true Winterslip toward the street.
Amos melted away into the crowd, but Jennison accompanied them to the car. "I'll go out with you," he said to Barbara. She did not seem to hear. The four of them entered the limousine, and in another moment the happy clamor of steamer day was left behind.
No one spoke. The curtains of the car were drawn but a warm streak of sunlight fell across John Quincy's knees. He was a little dazed. Shocking, this news about Cousin Dan. Must have died suddenly—but no doubt that was how things always happened out this way. He glanced at the white stricken face of the girl beside him, and because of her his heart was heavy.
She laid her cold hand on his. "It's not the welcome I promised you, John Quincy," she said softly.
"Why, my dear girl, I don't matter now."
No other word was spoken on the journey, and when they reached Dan's house, Barbara and Miss Minerva went immediately up-stairs. Jennison disappeared through a doorway at the left; evidently he knew his way about. Haku volunteered to show John Quincy his quarters, so he followed the Jap to the second floor.
When his bags were unpacked, John Ouincy went down-stairs again. Miss Minerva was waiting for him in the living-room. From beyond the bamboo curtain leading to the lanai came the sound of men's voices, mumbling and indistinct.
"Well," said John Quincy, "how have you been?"
"Never better," his aunt assured him.
"Mother's been rather worried about you. She'd begun to think you were never coming home."
"I've begun to think it myself," Miss Minerva replied.
He stared at her. "Some of those bonds you left with me have matured. I haven't known just what you wanted me to do about them."
"What," inquired Miss Minerva, "is a bond?"
That sort of wild reckless talk never did make a hit with John Quincy. "It's about time somebody came out here and brought you to your senses," he remarked.
"Think so?" said his aunt.
A sound up-stairs recalled John Quincy to the situation. "This was rather sudden—Cousin Dan's death?" he inquired.
"Amazingly so."
"Well, it seems to me that it would be rather an intrusion—our staying on here now. We ought to go home in a few days. I'd better see about reservations—"
"You needn't trouble," snapped Miss Minerva. "I'll not stir from here until I see the person who did this brought to justice."
"The person who did what?" asked John Quincy.
"The person who murdered Cousin Dan," said Miss Minerva.
John Quincy's jaw dropped. His face registered a wide variety of emotions. "Good lord!" he gasped.
"Oh, you needn't be so shocked," said his aunt. "The Winterslip family will still go on."
"Well, I'm not surprised," remarked John Quincy, "when I stop to think. The things I've learned about Cousin Dan. It's a wonder to me—"
"That will do," said Miss Minerva. "You're talking like Amos, and that's no compliment. You didn't know Dan. I did—and I liked him. I'm going to stay here and do all I can to help run down the murderer. And so are you."
"Pardon me. I am not."
"Don't contradict. I intend you shall take an active part in the investigation. The police are rather informal in a small place like this. They'll welcome your help."
"My help! I'm no detective. What's happened to you, anyhow? Why should you want me to go round hobnobbing with policemen—"
"For the simple reason that if we're not careful some rather unpleasant scandal may come out of this. If you're on the ground you may be able to avert needless publicity. For Barbara's sake."
"No, thank you," said John Quincy. "I'm leaving for Boston in three days, and so are you. Pack your trunks."
Miss Minerva laughed. "I've heard your father talk like that," she told him. "But I never knew him to gain anything by it in the end. Come out on the lanai and I'll introduce you to a few policemen."
John Quincy received this invitation with the contemptuous silence he thought it deserved. But while he was lavishing on it his best contempt, the bamboo curtain parted and the policemen came to him. Jennison was with them.
"Good morning, Captain Hallet," said Miss Minerva brightly. "May I present my nephew, Mr. John Quincy Winterslip, of Boston."
"I'm very anxious to meet Mr. John Quincy Winterslip," the captain replied.
"How do you do," said John Quincy. His heart sank. They'd drag him into this affair if they could.
"And this, John Quincy," went on Miss Minerva, "is Mr. Charles Chan, of the Honolulu detective force."
John Quincy had thought himself prepared for anything, but—"Mr.—Mr. Chan," he gasped.
"Mere words," said Chan, "can not express my unlimitable delight in meeting a representative of the ancient civilization of Boston."
Harry Jennison spoke. "This is an appalling business, Miss Winterslip," he said. "As perhaps you know, I was your cousin's lawyer. I was also his friend. Therefore I hope you won't think I am intruding if I show a keen interest in what is going forward here."
"Not 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."