The House Without a Key · Chapter 13 (2/2)

“But we’ll find him,” continued Hallet. “I’ll go over these islands with a dragnet. First of all, I want a talk with his wife.” He turned to Carlota Egan. “Get her in here,” he ordered. The girl looked at him. “Please,” he added.

She motioned to the clerk, who went out the door.

“By the way,” remarked John Quincy, “someone was just here asking for Brade.”

“What’s that!” Hallet was interested.

“A young Hawaiian, about twenty, I should say. Tall and slim. If you go to the door, you may catch a glimpse of him.”

Hallet hurried over and glanced out into the garden. In a second he returned. “Humph,” he said. “I know him. Did he say he’d come again?”

“He did.”

Hallet considered. “I’ve changed my mind,” he announced. “I won’t question Mrs. Brade, after all. For the present, I don’t want her to know we’re looking for her husband. I’ll trust you to fix that up with your clerk,” he added to the girl. She nodded. “Lucky we left things as we found them in nineteen,” he went on. “Unless she misses that letter and the cigarettes, which isn’t likely, we’re all right. Now, Miss Egan, we three will go into your father’s office there behind the desk, and leave the door open. When Mrs. Brade comes in, I want you to question her about her husband’s absence. Get all you can out of her. I’ll be listening.”

“I understand,” the girl said.

Hallet, Chan and John Quincy went into Jim Egan’s sanctum. “You found nothing else in the room?” the latter inquired of the Chinaman.

Chan shook his head. “Even so, fates are in smiling mood. What we have now are plentiful.”

“Sh!” warned Hallet.

“Mrs. Brade, a young man was just here inquiring, for your husband.” It was Carlota Egan’s voice.

“Really?” The accent was unmistakably British.

“He wanted to know where he could find him. We couldn’t say.”

“No⁠—of course not.”

“Your husband has left town, Mrs. Brade?”

“Yes. I fancy he has.”

“You know when he will return, perhaps?”

“I really couldn’t say. Is the mail in?”

“Not yet. We expect it about one.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Go to the door,” Hallet directed John Quincy.

“She’s gone to her room,” announced the boy.

The three of them emerged from Egan’s office.

“Oh, Captain,” said the girl, “I’m afraid I wasn’t very successful.”

“That’s all right,” replied Hallet. “I didn’t think you would be.” The clerk was again at his post behind the desk. Hallet turned to him. “Look here,” he said. “I understand someone was here a minute ago asking for Brade. It was Dick Kaohla, wasn’t it?”

“Yes-s,” answered the Jap.

“Had he been here before to see Brade?”

“Yes-s. Sunday night. Mr. Brade and him have long talk on the beach.”

Hallet nodded grimly. “Come on, Charlie,” he said. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. Wherever Brade is, we must find him.”

John Quincy stepped forward. “Pardon me, Captain,” he remarked. “But if you don’t mind⁠—just who is Dick Kaohla?”

Hallet hesitated. “Kaohla’s father⁠—he’s dead now⁠—was a sort of confidential servant to Dan Winterslip. The boy’s just plain no good. And oh, yes⁠—he’s the grandson of that woman who’s over at your place now. Kamaikui⁠—is that her name?”