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

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 leaped out into the Englishman's arms.

      "Dad—where were you?" she cried.

      "Cary, darling," he said. "I was so frightfully sorry—I meant to be at the dock but I was detained. How are you, my dear?"

      "I'm fine, dad—but—where are you going?" She looked at Hallet; John Quincy remained discreetly in the background.

      "I've—I've a little business in the city, my dear," Egan said. "I'll be home presently, I fancy. If—if I shouldn't be, I leave you in charge."

      "Why, dad—"

      "Don't worry," he added pleadingly. "That's all I can say now, Cary. Don't worry, my dear." He turned to Hallet. "Shall we go. Captain?"

      The two policemen, Jennison and Egan entered the car. John Quincy stepped forward. The girl's big perplexed eyes met his.

      "You?" she cried.

      "Coming, Mr. Winterslip?" inquired Hallet.

      John Quincy smiled at the girl. "You were quite right," he said. "I haven't needed that hat."

      She looked up at him. "But you're not wearing any at all. That's hardly wise—"

      "Mr. Winterslip!" barked Hallet.

      John Quincy turned. "Oh, pardon me, Captain," he said. "I forgot to mention it, but I'm leaving you here. Good-by."

      Hallet grunted and started his car. While the girl paid for her taxi out of a tiny purse, John Quincy picked up her suit-case.

      "This time," he said, "I insist on carrying it." They stepped through the gateway into the garden that might have been Eden on one of its better days. "You didn't tell me we might meet in Honolulu," the boy remarked.

      "I wasn't sure we would." She glanced at the shabby old hotel. "You see, I'm not exactly a social favorite out here." John Quincy could think of no reply, and they mounted the crumbling steps. The public room was quite deserted. "And why have we met?" the girl continued. "I'm fearfully puzzled. What was dad's business with those men? One of them was Captain Hallet—a policeman—"

      John Quincy frowned. "I'm not so sure your father wants you to know."

      "But I've got to know, that's obvious. Please tell me."

      John Quincy relinquished the suit-case, and brought forward a chair. The girl sat down.

      "It's this way," he began. "My Cousin Dan was murdered in the night."

      Her eyes were tragic. "Oh—poor Barbara!" she cried. That's right, he mustn't forget Barbara. "But dad—oh, go on please—"

      "Your father visited Cousin Dan last night at eleven, and he refuses to say why. There are other things he refuses to tell."

      She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sudden tears. "I was so happy on the boat," she said. "I knew it couldn't last."

      He sat down. "Nonsense. Everything will come out all right. Your father is probably shielding some one—"

      She nodded. "Of course. But if he's made up his mind not to talk, he just simply won't talk. He's odd that way. They may keep him down there, and I shall be all alone—"

      "Not quite alone," John Quincy told her.

      "No, no," she said. "I've warned you. We're not the sort the best people care to know—"

      "The more fools they," cut in the boy. "I'm John Quincy Winterslip, of Boston. And you—"