STEAMER DAY
Out in the harbor, by the channel entrance, the _President Tyler_ stood
motionless as Diamond Head, and from his post near the rail outside his
stateroom, John Quincy Winterslip took his first look at Honolulu. He
had no feeling of having been here before; this was an alien land.
Several miles away he saw the line of piers and unlovely warehouses that
marked the water-front; beyond that lay a vast expanse of brilliant
green pierced here and there by the top of a modest skyscraper. Back of
the city a range of mountains stood on guard, peaks of crystal blue
against the azure sky.
A trim little launch from Quarantine chugged importantly up to the big
liner's side, and a doctor in a khaki uniform ran briskly up the
accommodation ladder to the deck not far from where the boy stood. John
Quincy wondered at the man's vitality. He felt like a spent force
himself. The air was moist and heavy, the breeze the ship had stirred in
moving gone for ever. The flood of energy that had swept over him in San
Francisco was but a happy memory now. He leaned wearily on the rail,
staring at the bright tropical landscape before him--and not seeing it
at all.
He saw instead a quiet, well-furnished Boston office where at this very
moment the typewriters were clicking amiably and the stock ticker was
busily writing the story of another day. In a few hours--there was a
considerable difference of time--the market would close and the men he
knew would be piling into automobiles and heading for the nearest
country club. A round of golf, then a calm, perfectly served dinner, and
after that a quiet evening with a book. Life running along as it was
meant to go, without rude interruption or disturbing incident; life
devoid of ohia wood boxes, attic encounters, unwillingly witnessed love
scenes, cousins with blackbirding pasts. Suddenly John Quincy
remembered, this was the morning when he must look Dan Winterslip in the
eye and tell him he had been a bit dilatory with his fists. Oh, well--he
straightened resolutely--the sooner that was done, the better.
Harry Jennison came along the deck, smiling and vigorous, clad in
spotless white from head to foot. "Here we are," he cried. "On the
threshold of paradise!"
"Think so?" said John Quincy.
"Know it," Jennison answered. "Only place in the world, these islands.
You remember what Mark Twain said--"
"Ever visited Boston?" John Quincy cut in.
"Once," replied Jennison briefly. "That's Punch Bowl Hill back of the
town--and Tantalus beyond. Take you up to the summit some day--wonderful
view. See that tallest building? The Van Patten Trust Company--my office
is on the top floor. Only drawback about getting home--I'll have to go
to work again."
"I don't see how any one can work in this climate," John Quincy said.
"Oh, well, we take it easy. Can't manage the pace of you mainland
people. Every now and then some go-getter from the States comes out here
and tries to hustle us." He laughed. "He dies of disgust and we bury
him in a leisurely way. Been down to breakfast?"
John Quincy accompanied him to the dining saloon. Madame Maynard and
Barbara were at the table. The old lady's cheeks were flushed and her
eyes sparkled; Barbara, too, was in her gayest mood. The excitement of
coming home had made her very happy--or was her happiness all due to
that? John Quincy noted her smile of greeting for Jennison, and rather
wished he knew less than he did.
"Prepare for a thrill, John Quincy," the girl said. "Landing in Hawaii
is like landing nowhere else on the globe. Of course, this is a through
boat, and it isn't welcomed as the Matson liners are. But there'll be a
crowd waiting for the _Matsonia_ this morning, and we'll steal a little
of her aloha."
"A little of her what?" inquired John Quincy.
"Aloha--meaning loving welcome. You shall have all my leis, John Quincy.
Just to show you how glad Honolulu is you've come at last."
The boy turned to Madame Maynard. "I suppose this is an old story to
you?"
"Bless you, my boy," she said. "It's always new. A hundred and
twenty-eight times--yet I'm as thrilled as though I were coming home
from college." She sighed. "A hundred and twenty-eight times. So many of
those who once hung leis about my neck are gone for ever now. They'll
not be waiting for me--not on this dock."
"None of that," Barbara chided. "Only happy thoughts this morning. It's
steamer day."
Nobody seemed hungry, and breakfast was a sketchy affair. John Quincy
returned to his cabin to find Bowker strapping up his luggage.
"I guess you're all ready, sir," said the steward. "I finished that book
last night, and you'll find it in your suit-case. We'll be moving on to
the dock shortly. All good luck to you--and don't forget about the
okolehau."
"It's graven on my memory," smiled John Quincy. "Here--this is for you."
Bowker glanced at the bank-note and pocketed it. "You're mighty kind,
sir," he remarked feelingly. "That will sort of balance up the dollar
each I'll get from those two missionaries when we reach China--if I'm
lucky. Of course, it's rather distasteful to me to accept anything. From
a friend of Tim's, you know."
"Oh, that's for value received," said John Quincy, and followed Bowker
on deck.
"There she is," announced Bowker, pausing by the rail. "Honolulu. The
South Seas with a collar on, driving a Ford car. Polynesia with a
private still and all the other benefits of the white man's
civilization. We'll go out at eight to-night, thank heaven."
"Paradise doesn't appeal to you," suggested John Quincy.
"No. Nor any other of these bright-colored lands my poor old feet must
tread. I'm getting fed up, sir." He came closer. "I want to hang my hat
somewhere and leave it there. I want to buy a little newspaper in some
country town and starve to death on the proceeds of running it. What a
happy finish! Well, maybe I can manage it, before long."
"I hope so," said John Quincy.
"I hope so, too," said Bowker. "Here's wishing you a happy time in
Honolulu. And one other word of warning--don't linger there."
"I don't intend to," John Quincy assured him.
"That's the talk. It's one of those places--you know--dangerous. Lotus
on the menu every day. The first thing you know, you've forgot where you
put your trunk. So long, sir."
With a wave of the hand, Tim's friend disappeared down the deck. Amid
much confusion, John Quincy took his place in line for the doctor's
inspection, passed the careful scrutiny of an immigration official who
finally admitted that maybe Boston was in the Union, and was then left
to his own devices and his long, long thoughts.
The _President Tyler_ was moving slowly toward the shore. Excited
figures scurried about her decks, pausing now and then to stare through
lifted glasses at the land. John Quincy perceived that early though the
hour was, the pier toward which they were heading was alive with people.
Barbara came and stood by his side.
"Poor old dad," she said, "he's been struggling along without me for
nine months. This will be a big morning in his life. You'll like dad,
John Quincy."
"I'm sure I shall," he answered heartily.
"Dad's one of the finest--" Jennison joined them. "Harry, I meant to
tell the steward to take my luggage ashore when we land."
"I told him," Jennison said. "I tipped him, too."
"Thanks," the girl replied. "I was so excited, I forgot."
She leaned eagerly over the rail, peering at the dock. Her eyes were
shining. "I don't see him yet," she said. They were near enough now to
hear the voices of those ashore, gay voices calling flippant greetings.
The big ship edged gingerly closer.
"There's Aunt Minerva," cried John Quincy suddenly. That little touch
of home in the throng was very pleasant. "Is that your father with her?"
He indicated a tall anemic man at Minerva's side.
"I don't see--where--" Barbara began. "Oh--that--why, that's Uncle
Amos!"
"Oh, is that Amos?" remarked John Quincy, without interest. But Barbara
had gripped his arm, and as he turned he saw a wild alarm in her eyes.
"What do you suppose that means?" she cried. "I don't see dad. I don't
see him anywhere."
"Oh, he's in that crowd somewhere--"
"No, no--you don't understand! Uncle Amos! I'm--I'm frightened."
John Quincy didn't gather what it was all about, and there was no time
to find out. Jennison was pushing ahead through the crowd, making a path
for Barbara, and the boy meekly brought up the rear. They were among the
first down the plank. Miss Minerva and Amos were waiting at the foot.
"My dear." Miss Minerva put her arms about the girl and kissed her
gently. She turned to John Quincy. "Well, here you are--"
There was something lacking in this welcome. John Quincy sensed it at
once.
"Where's dad?" Barbara cried.
"I'll explain in the car--" Miss Minerva began.
"No, now! Now! I must know now!"
The crowd was surging about them, calling happy greetings, the Royal
Hawaiian Band was playing a gay tune, carnival was in the air.
"Your father is dead, my dear," said Miss Minerva.
John Quincy saw the girl's slim figure sway gently, but it was Harry
Jennison's strong arm that caught her.
For a moment she stood, with Jennison's arm about her. "All right," she
said. "I'm ready to go home." And walked like a true Winterslip toward
the street.
Amos melted away into the crowd, but Jennison accompanied them to the
car. "I'll go out with you," he said to Barbara. She did not seem to
hear. The four of them entered the limousine, and in another moment the
happy clamor of steamer day was left behind.
No one spoke. The curtains of the car were drawn but a warm streak of
sunlight fell across John Quincy's knees. He was a little dazed.
Shocking, this news about Cousin Dan. Must have died suddenly--but no
doubt that was how things always happened out this way. He glanced at
the white stricken face of the girl beside him, and because of her his
heart was heavy.
She laid her cold hand on his. "It's not the welcome I promised you,
John Quincy," she said softly.
"Why, my dear girl, I don't matter now."
No other word was spoken on the journey, and when they reached Dan's
house, Barbara and Miss Minerva went immediately up-stairs. Jennison
disappeared through a doorway at the left; evidently he knew his way
about. Haku volunteered to show John Quincy his quarters, so he followed
the Jap to the second floor.
When his bags were unpacked, John Quincy went down-stairs again. Miss
Minerva was waiting for him in the living-room. From beyond the bamboo
curtain leading to the lanai came the sound of men's voices, mumbling
and indistinct.
"Well," said John Quincy, "how have you been?"
"Never better," his aunt assured him.
"Mother's been rather worried about you. She'd begun to think you were
never coming home."
"I've begun to think it myself," Miss Minerva replied.
He stared at her. "Some of those bonds you left with me have matured. I
haven't known just what you wanted me to do about them."
"What," inquired Miss Minerva, "is a bond?"
That sort of wild reckless talk never did make a hit with John Quincy.
"It's about time somebody came out here and brought you to your senses,"
he remarked.
"Think so?" said his aunt.
A sound up-stairs recalled John Quincy to the situation. "This was
rather sudden--Cousin Dan's death?" he inquired.
"Amazingly so."
"Well, it seems to me that it would be rather an intrusion--our staying
on here now. We ought to go home in a few days. I'd better see about
reservations--"
"You needn't trouble," snapped Miss Minerva. "I'll not stir from here
until I see the person who did this brought to justice."
"The person who did what?" asked John Quincy.
"The person who murdered Cousin Dan," said Miss Minerva.
John Quincy's jaw dropped. His face registered a wide variety of
emotions. "Good lord!" he gasped.
"Oh, you needn't be so shocked," said his aunt. "The Winterslip family
will still go on."
"Well, I'm not surprised," remarked John Quincy, "when I stop to think.
The things I've learned about Cousin Dan. It's a wonder to me--"
"That will do," said Miss Minerva. "You're talking like Amos, and that's
no compliment. You didn't know Dan. I did--and I liked him. I'm going to
stay here and do all I can to help run down the murderer. And so are
you."
"Pardon me. I am not."
"Don't contradict. I intend you shall take an active part in the
investigation. The police are rather informal in a small place like
this. They'll welcome your help."
"My help! I'm no detective. What's happened to you, anyhow? Why should
you want me to go round hobnobbing with policemen--"
"For the simple reason that if we're not careful some rather unpleasant
scandal may come out of this. If you're on the ground you may be able to
avert needless publicity. For Barbara's sake."
"No, thank you," said John Quincy. "I'm leaving for Boston in three
days, and so are you. Pack your trunks."
Miss Minerva laughed. "I've heard your father talk like that," she told
him. "But I never knew him to gain anything by it in the end. Come out
on the lanai and I'll introduce you to a few policemen."
John Quincy received this invitation with the contemptuous silence he
thought it deserved. But while he was lavishing on it his best contempt,
the bamboo curtain parted and the policemen came to him. Jennison was
with them.
"Good morning, Captain Hallet," said Miss Minerva brightly. "May I
present my nephew, Mr. John Quincy Winterslip, of Boston."
"I'm very anxious to meet Mr. John Quincy Winterslip," the captain
replied.
"How do you do," said John Quincy. His heart sank. They'd drag him into
this affair if they could.
"And this, John Quincy," went on Miss Minerva, "is Mr. Charles Chan, of
the Honolulu detective force."
John Quincy had thought himself prepared for anything, but--"Mr.--Mr.
Chan," he gasped.
"Mere words," said Chan, "can not express my unlimitable delight in
meeting a representative of the ancient civilization of Boston."
Harry Jennison spoke. "This is an appalling business, Miss Winterslip,"
he said. "As perhaps you know, I was your cousin's lawyer. I was also
his friend. Therefore I hope you won't think I am intruding if I show a
keen interest in what is going forward here."
"Not at all," Miss Minerva assured him. "We shall need all the help we
can get."
Captain Hallet had taken a paper from his pocket. He faced John Quincy.
"Young man," he began, "I said I wanted to meet you. Last night Miss
Winterslip told me of a cablegram received by the dead man about a week
ago, which she said angered him greatly. I happen to have a copy of that
message, turned over to me by the cable people. I'll read it to you:
"John Quincy sailing on _President Tyler_ stop owing to unfortunate
accident he leaves here with empty hands. Signed, Roger
Winterslip."
"Yes?" said John Quincy haughtily.
"Explain that, if you will."
John Quincy stiffened. "The matter was strictly private," he said. "A
family affair."
Captain Hallet glared at him. "You're mistaken," he replied. "Nothing
that concerns Mr. Dan Winterslip is private now. Tell me what that cable
meant, and be quick about it. I'm busy this morning."
John Quincy glared back. The man didn't seem to realize to whom he was
talking. "I've already said--" he began.
"John Quincy," snapped Miss Minerva. "Do as you're told!"
Oh, well, if she wanted family secrets aired in public! Reluctantly John
Quincy explained about Dan Winterslip's letter, and the misadventure in
the attic of Dan's San Francisco house.
"An ohia wood box bound with copper," repeated the captain. "Initials on
it, T. M. B. Got that, Charlie?"
"It is written in the book," said Chan.
"Any idea what was in that box?" asked Hallet.
"Not the slightest," John Quincy told him.
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
air-tight 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, heart-breaking 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 any one strike down a Winterslip! How dare any one 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.