"Willie do small investigating to help out crowded hours," went on Chan. "He have dug up strange event out of this Okamoto here. On early morning of Tuesday, July first, Okamoto is roused from slumber by fierce knocks on door of room. He go to door—"
"Let him tell it," suggested Hallet. "What time was this?"
"Two of the morning," said the Jap. "Knocks were as described. I rouse and look at watch, run to door. Mr. Dick Kaohla here is waiting. Demand I drive him to home over in Iwilei district. I done so."
"All right," said Hallet. "Anything else? No? Charlie—take them out and thank them—that's your specialty." He waited until the Orientals had left the room, then turned fiercely on Kaohla. "Well, here you are back in the limelight," he cried. "Now, come across. What were you doing out near Winterslip's house the night of the murder?"
"Nothing," said the Hawaiian.
"Nothing! A little late to be up doing nothing, wasn't it? Look here, my boy, I'm beginning to get you. For years Dan Winterslip gave you money, supported you, until he finally decided you were no good. So he stopped the funds and you and he had a big row. Now, didn't you?"
"Yes," admitted Dick Kaohla.
"On Sunday night Brade offered you five thousand for the box. You thought it wasn't enough. The idea struck you that maybe Dan Winterslip would pay more. You were a little afraid of him, but you screwed up your courage and went to his house—"
"No, no," the boy cried. "I did not go there."
"I say you did. You'd made up your mind to double-cross Brade. You and Dan Winterslip had another big scrap, you drew a knife—"
"Lies, all lies," the boy shouted, terrified.
"Don't tell me I lie! You killed Winterslip and I'll get it out of you! I got the other and I'll get this." Hallet rose threateningly from his chair.
Chan suddenly reentered the room, and handed Hallet a note. "Arrive this moment by special messenger," he explained.
Hallet ripped open the envelope and read. His expression altered. He turned disgustedly to Kaohla. "Beat it!" he scowled.
The boy fled gratefully. John Quincy and Chan looked wonderingly at the captain. Hallet sat down at his desk. "It all comes back to Egan," he said. "I've known it from the first."
"Wait a minute," cried John Quincy. "What about that boy?"
Hallet crumpled the letter in his hand. "Kaohla? Oh, he's out of it now."
"Why?"
"That's all I can tell you. He's out of it."
"That's not enough," John Quincy said. "I demand to know—"
Hallet glared at him. "You know all you're going to," he answered angrily. "I say Kaohla's out, and that settles it. Egan killed Winterslip, and before I get through with him—"
"Permit me to say," interrupted John Quincy, "that you have the most trusting nature I ever met. Everybody's story goes with you. The Compton woman and that rat Leatherbee come in here and spin a yarn, and you bow them out. And Brade! What about Brade! In bed at one-twenty last Tuesday morning, eh? Who says so? He does. Who can prove it? His wife can. What was to prevent his stepping out on the balcony of the Reef and Palm and walking along the beach to my cousin's house? Answer me that!"
Hallet shook his head. "It's Egan. That cigarette—"
"Yes—that cigarette. Has it occurred to you that Brade may have given him those cigarettes purposely—"
"Egan did it," cut in Hallet stubbornly. "All I need now is his story; I'll get it. I have ways and means—"
"I congratulate you on your magnificent stupidity," cried John Quincy. "Good night, sir."
He walked along Bethel Street, Chan at his side.
"You are partly consumed by anger," said the Chinaman. "Humbly suggest you cool. Calm heads needed."
"But what was in that note? Why wouldn't he tell us?"
"In good time, we know. Captain honest man. Be patient."
"But we're all at sea again," protested John Quincy. "Who killed Cousin Dan? We get nowhere."
"So very true," agreed Chan. "More clues lead us into presence of immovable stone wall. We sway about, seeking still other path."
"I'll say we do," answered John Quincy. "There comes my car. Good night!"
Not until the trolley was half-way to Waikiki did he remember Mr. Saladine. Saladine crouching outside that window at the Reef and Palm. What did that mean? But Saladine was a comic figure, a lisping searcher after bridge-work in the limpid waters of Waikiki. Even so, perhaps his humble activities should be investigated.
Chapter XVI. The Return of Captain Cope
After breakfast on Sunday morning, John Quincy followed Miss Minerva to the lanai. It was a neat world that lay outside the screen, for Dan Winterslip's yard boy had been busy until a late hour the night before, sweeping the lawn with the same loving thoroughness a housewife might display on a precious Oriental rug.
Barbara had not come down to breakfast, and John Quincy had seized the opportunity to tell his aunt of Brade's return, and repeat the man's story of Dan Winterslip's theft on board the Maid of Shiloh. Now he lighted a cigarette and sat staring seriously out at the distant water.
"Cheer up," said Miss Minerva. "You look like a judge. I presume you're thinking of poor Dan."
"I am."
"Forgive and forget. None of us ever suspected Dan of being a saint."
"A saint! Far from it! He was just a plain—"
"Never mind," put in his aunt sharply. "Remember, John Quincy, man is a creature of environment. And the temptation must have been great. Picture Dan on that ship in these easy-going latitudes, wealth at his feet and not a soul in sight to claim it. Ill-gotten wealth, at that. Even you—"
"Even I," said John Quincy sternly, "would have recalled I am a Winterslip. I never dreamed I'd live to hear you offering apologies for that sort of conduct."
She laughed. "You know what they say about white women who go to the tropics. They lose first their complexion, then their teeth, and finally their moral sense." She hesitated. "I've had to visit the dentist a good deal of late," she added.
John Quincy was shocked "My advice to you is to hurry home," he said.
"When are you going?"
"Oh, soon—soon."
"That's what we all say. Returning to Boston, I suppose?"
"Of course."
"How about San Francisco?"
"Oh, that's off. I did suggest it to Agatha, but I'm certain she won't hear of it. And I'm beginning to think she'd be quite right." His aunt rose. "You'd better go to church," said John Quincy severely.
"That's just where I am going," she smiled. "By the way, Amos is coming to dinner to-night, and he'd best hear the Brade story from us, rather than in some garbled form. Barbara must hear it too. If it proves to be true, the family ought to do something for Mr. Brade."
"Oh, the family will do something for him, all right," John Quincy remarked. "Whether it wants to or not."
"Well, I'll let you tell Barbara about him," Miss Minerva promised.
"Thank you so much," replied her nephew sarcastically.
"Not at all. Are you coming to church?"
"No," he said. "I don't need it the way you do."
She left him there to face a lazy uneventful day. By five