LITMIR.BIZ

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distance down the avenue from the Reef and Palm, and strolled slowly toward the hotel. The sidewalk was lined at their right by dense foliage, almost impenetrable. The night was calm; the street lamps shone brightly; the paved street gleamed white in the moonlight. John Quincy was talking of Boston.

      "I think you'd like it there. It's old and settled, but—"

      From the foliage beside them came the flash of a pistol, and John Quincy heard a bullet sing close to his head. Another flash, another bullet. The girl gave a startled little cry.

      John Quincy circled round her and plunged into the bushes. Angry branches stung his cheek. He stopped; he couldn't leave the girl alone. He returned to her side.

      "What did that mean?" he asked, amazed. He stared in wonder at the peaceful scene before him.

      "I—I don't know." She took his arm. "Come—hurry!"

      "Don't be afraid," he said reassuringly.

      "Not for myself," she answered.

      They went on to the hotel, greatly puzzled. But when they entered the lobby, they had something else to think about. Captain Arthur Temple Cope was standing by the desk, and he came at once to meet them.

      "This is Miss Egan, I believe. Ah, Winterslip, how are you?" He turned again to the girl. "I've taken a room here, if you don't mind."

      "Why, not at all," she gasped.

      "I talked with your father this morning. I didn't know about his trouble until I had boarded a ship for the Fanning Islands. I came back as quickly as I could."

      "You came back—" She stared at him.

      "Yes. I came back to help him."

      "That's very kind of you," the girl said. "But I'm afraid I don't understand—"

      "Oh, no, you don't understand. Naturally." The captain smiled down at her. "You see, Jim's my young brother. You're my niece, and your name is Carlota Maria Cope. I fancy I've persuaded old Jim to own up to us at last."

      The girl's dark eyes were wide. "I—I think you're a very nice uncle," she said at last.

      "Do you really?" The captain bowed. "I aim to be," he added.

      John Quincy stepped forward. "Pardon me," he said. "I'm afraid I'm intruding. Good night, Captain."

      "Good night, my boy," Cope answered.

      The girl went with John Quincy to the balcony. "I—don't know what to make of it," she said.

      "Things are coming rather fast," John Quincy admitted. He remembered the Corsican cigarette. "I wouldn't trust him too far," he admonished.

      "But he's so wonderful—"

      "Oh, he's all right, probably. But looks are often deceptive. I'll go along now and let you talk with him."

      She laid one slim tanned hand on his white-clad arm "Do be careful!"

      "Oh, I'm all right," he told her.

      "But some one shot at you."

      "Yes, and a very poor aim he had, too. Don't worry about me." She was very close, her eyes glowing in the dark. "You said you weren't afraid for yourself," he added. "Did you mean—"

      "I meant—I was afraid—for you."

      The moon, of course, was shining. The cocoa-palms turned their heads away at the suggestion of the trades. The warm waters of Waikiki murmured near by. John Quincy Winterslip, from Boston and immune, drew the girl to him and kissed her. Not a cousinly kiss, either—but why should it have been? She wasn't his cousin.

      "Thank you, my dear," he said. He seemed to be floating dizzily in space. It came to him that he might reach out and pluck her a handful of stars.

      It came to him a second later that, despite his firm resolve, he had done it again. Kissed another girl. Three—that made three with whom he was sort of entangled.

      "Good night," he said huskily, and leaping over the rail, fled hastily through the garden.

      Three girls now—but he hadn't a single regret. He was living at last. As he hurried through the dark along the beach, his heart was light. Once he fancied he was being followed, but he gave it little thought. What of it?

      On the bureau in his room he found an envelope with his name typewritten on the outside. The note within was typewritten too. He read:

      "You are too busy out here. Hawaii can manage her affairs without the interference of a malihini. Boats sail almost daily. If you are still here forty-eight hours after you get this—look out! To-night's shots were fired into the air. The aim will quickly improve!"

      Delighted, John Quincy tossed the note aside. Threatening him, eh? His activities as a detective were bearing fruit. He recalled the glowering face of Kaohla when he said: "You did this. I don't forget." And a remark of Dan Winterslip's his aunt had quoted: "Civilized—yes. But far underneath there are deep dark waters flowing still."

      Boats were sailing almost daily, were they? Well, let them sail. He would be on one some day—but not until he had brought Dan Winterslip's murderer to justice.

      Life had a new glamour now. Look out? He'd be looking—and enjoying it, too. He smiled happily to himself as he took off his coat. This was better than selling bonds in Boston.

      Chapter XVIII. A Cable From the Mainland

       Table of Contents

      John Quincy awoke at nine the following morning, and slipped from under his mosquito netting eager to face the responsibilities of a new day. On the floor near his bureau lay the letter designed to speed the parting guest. He picked it up and read it again with manifest enjoyment.

      When he reached the dining-room Haku informed him that Miss Minerva and Barbara had breakfasted early and gone to the city on a shopping tour.

      "Look here, Haku," the boy said. "A letter came for me late last night?"

      "Yes-s," admitted Haku.

      "Who delivered it?"

      "Can not say. It were found on floor of hall close by big front door."

      "Who found it?"

      "Kamaikui."

      "Oh, yes—Kamaikui."

      "I tell her to put in your sleeping room."

      "Did Kamaikui see the person who brought it?"

      "Nobody see him. Nobody on place."

      "All right," John Quincy 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

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