The House Without a Key · Chapter 8 (2/2)

Hallet turned to Miss Minerva. “You knew nothing about this?” She assured him she did not. “Well,” he continued, “one thing more and we’ll go along. We’ve been making a thorough search of the premises by daylight⁠—without much success, I’m sorry to say. However, by the cement walk just outside that door”⁠—he pointed to the screen door leading from the living-room into the garden⁠—“Charlie made a discovery.”

Chan stepped forward, holding a small white object in the palm of his hand.

“One-half cigarette, incompletely consumed,” he announced. “Very recent, not weather stained. It are of the brand denominated Corsican, assembled in London and smoked habitually by Englishmen.”

Hallet again addressed Miss Minerva. “Did Dan Winterslip smoke cigarettes?”

“He did not,” she replied. “Cigars and a pipe, but never cigarettes.”

“You were the only other person living here.”

“I haven’t acquired the cigarette habit,” snapped Miss Minerva. “Though undoubtedly it’s not too late yet.”

“The servants, perhaps?” went on Hallet.

“Some of the servants may smoke cigarettes, but hardly of this quality. I take it these are not on sale in Honolulu?”

“They’re not,” said the captain. “But Charlie tells me they’re put up in airtight tins and shipped to Englishmen the world over. Well, stow that away, Charlie.” The Chinaman tenderly placed the half cigarette, incompletely consumed, in his pocketbook. “I’m going on down the beach now to have a little talk with Mr. Jim Egan,” the captain added.

“I’ll go with you,” Jennison offered. “I may be able to supply a link or two there.”

“Sure, come along,” Hallet replied cordially.

“Captain Hallet,” put in Miss Minerva, “it is my wish that some member of the family keep in touch with what you are doing, in order that we may give you all the aid we can. My nephew would like to accompany you⁠—”

“Pardon me,” said John Quincy coldly, “you’re quite wrong. I have no intention of joining the police force.”

“Well, just as you say,” remarked Hallet. He turned to Miss Minerva. “I’m relying on you, at any rate. You’ve got a good mind. Anybody can see that.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“As good as a man’s,” he added.

“Oh, now you’ve spoiled it. Good morning.”

The three men went through the screen door into the bright sunshine of the garden. John Quincy was aware that he was not in high favor with his aunt.

“I’ll go up and change,” he said uncomfortably “We’ll talk things over later⁠—”

He went into the hall. At the foot of the stairs he paused.

From above came a low, heartbreaking moan of anguish. Barbara. Poor Barbara, who had been so happy less than an hour ago.

John Quincy felt his head go hot, the blood pound in his temples. How dare anyone strike down a Winterslip! How dare anyone inflict this grief on his Cousin Barbara! He clenched his fists and stood for a moment, feeling that he, too, could kill.

Action⁠—he must have action! He rushed through the living-room, past the astonished Miss Minerva. In the drive stood a car, the three men were already in it.

“Wait a minute,” called John Quincy. “I’m going with you.”

“Hop in,” said Captain Hallet.

The car rolled down the drive and out on to the hot asphalt of Kalia Road. John Quincy sat erect, his eyes flashing, by the side of a huge grinning Chinaman.