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

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 Egan." He leaned suddenly across his desk. "It is, my dear Captain Cope, evidence against you."

      Cope met his look unflinchingly. "Really?" he remarked.

      John Quincy noted a flash of startled bewilderment in Carlota Egan's eyes.

      "That's what I said," Greene continued. "I'm very glad you dropped in this morning, sir. I've been wanting to talk to you. I've been told that you were heard to express a strong dislike for Dan Winterslip."

      "I may have. I certainly felt it."

      "Why?"

      "As a midshipman on a British war-ship, I was familiar with Australian gossip in the 'eighties. Mr. Dan Winterslip had an unsavory reputation. It was rumored on good authority that he rifled the sea chest of his dead captain on the Maid of Shiloh. Perhaps we're a bit squeamish, but that is the sort of thing we sailors can not forgive. There were other quaint deeds in connection with his blackbirding activities. Yes, my dear sir, I heartily disliked Dan Winterslip, and if I haven't said so before, I say it now."

      "You arrived in Honolulu a week ago yesterday," Greene continued. "At noon—Monday noon. You left the following day. Did you, by any chance, call on Dan Winterslip during that period?"

      "I did not."

      "Ah, yes. I may tell you, sir, that the Corsican cigarettes found in Egan's case were of Turkish tobacco. The stub found near the scene of Dan Winterslip's murder was of Virginia tobacco. So also, my dear Captain Cope, was the Corsican cigarette you gave our man Charlie Chan in the lobby of the Alexander Young Hotel last Sunday night."

      Cope looked at Chan, and smiled. "Always the detective, eh?" he said.

      "Never mind that!" Greene cried. "I'm asking for an explanation."

      "The explanation is very simple," Cope replied. "I was about to give it to you when you launched into this silly cross-examination. The Corsican cigarette found by Dan Winterslip's door was, naturally, of Virginia tobacco. I never smoke any other kind."

      "What!"

      "There can be no question about it, sir. I dropped that cigarette there myself."

      "But you just told me you didn't call on Dan Winterslip."

      "That was true. I didn't. I called on Miss Minerva Winterslip, of Boston, who is a guest in the house. As a matter of fact, I had tea with her last Monday at five o'clock. You may verify that by telephoning the lady."

      Greene glanced at Hallet, who glanced at the telephone, then turned angrily to John Quincy. "Why the devil didn't she tell me that?" he demanded.

      John Quincy smiled. "I don't know, sir. Possibly because she never thought of Captain Cope in connection with the murder."

      "She'd hardly be likely to," Cope said. "Miss Winterslip and