THE LIGHT STREAMS THROUGH
They moved on through the pier-shed to the street, where Hepworth,
Jennison and the three policemen got into Hallet's car. The captain
turned to John Quincy.
"You coming, Mr. Winterslip?" he inquired.
"I've got my own car," the boy explained. "I'll follow you in that."
The roadster was not performing at its best, and he reached the station
house a good five minutes after the policemen. He noted Dan Winterslip's
big limousine parked in the street outside.
In Hallet's room he found the captain and Chan closeted with a third
man. It took a second glance at the latter to identify him as Mr.
Saladine, for the little man of the lost teeth now appeared a great deal
younger than John Quincy had thought him.
"Ah, Mr. Winterslip," remarked Hallet. He turned to Saladine. "Say,
Larry, you've got me into a heap of trouble with this boy. He accused me
of trying to shield you. I wish you'd loosen up for him."
Saladine smiled. "Why, I don't mind. My job out here is about finished.
Of course, Mr. Winterslip will keep what I tell him under his hat?"
"Naturally," replied John Quincy. He noticed that the man spoke with no
trace of a lisp. "I perceive you've found your teeth," he added.
"Oh, yes--I found them in my trunk, where I put them the day I arrived
at Waikiki," answered Saladine. "When my teeth were knocked out twenty
years ago in a football game, I was broken-hearted, but the loss has
been a great help to me in my work. A man hunting his bridge work in the
water is a figure of ridicule and mirth. No one ever thinks of
connecting him with serious affairs. He can prowl about a beach to his
heart's content. Mr. Winterslip, I am a special agent of the Treasury
Department sent out here to break up the opium ring. My name, of course,
is not Saladine."
"Oh," said John Quincy, "I understand at last."
"I'm glad you do," remarked Hallet. "I don't know whether you're
familiar with the way our opium smugglers work. The dope is brought in
from the Orient on tramp steamers--the _Mary S. Allison_, for example.
When they arrive off Waikiki they knock together a few small rafts and
load 'em with tins of the stuff. A fleet of little boats, supposedly out
there for the fishing, pick up these rafts and bring the dope ashore.
It's taken down-town and hidden on ships bound for 'Frisco--usually
those that ply only between here and the mainland, because they're not
so closely watched at the other end. But it just happened that the
quartermaster of the _President Tyler_ is one of their go-betweens. We
searched his cabin this evening and found it packed with the stuff."
"The quartermaster of the _President Tyler_," repeated John Quincy.
"That's Dick Kaohla's friend."
"Yeah--I'm coming to Dick. He's been in charge of the pick-up fleet
here. He was out on that business the night of the murder. Saladine saw
him and told me all about it in that note, which was my reason for
letting the boy go."
"I owe you an apology," John Quincy said.
"Oh, that's all right." Hallet was in great good humor. "Larry here has
got some of the higher-ups, too. For instance, he's discovered that
Jennison is the lawyer for the ring, defending any of them who are
caught and brought before the commissioner. The fact has no bearing on
Dan Winterslip's murder--unless Winterslip knew about it, and that was
one of the reasons he didn't want Jennison to marry his girl."
Saladine stood up. "I'll turn the quartermaster over to you," he said.
"In view of this other charge, you can of course have Jennison too.
That's all for me. I'll go along."
"See you to-morrow, Larry," Hallet answered. Saladine went out, and the
captain turned to John Quincy. "Well, my boy, this is our big night. I
don't know what you were doing in Jennison's cabin, but if you'd picked
him for the murderer, I'll say you're good."
"That's just what I'd done," John Quincy told him. "By the way, have you
seen my aunt? She's got hold of a rather interesting bit of
information--"
"I've seen her," Hallet said. "She's with the prosecutor now, telling it
to him. By the way, Greene's waiting for us. Come along."
They went into the prosecutor's office. Greene was alert and eager, a
stenographer was at his elbow, and Miss Minerva sat near his desk.
"Hello, Mr. Winterslip," he said. "What do you think of our police force
now? Pretty good, eh, pretty good. Sit down, won't you?" He glanced
through some papers on his desk while John Quincy, Hallet and Chan
found chairs. "I don't mind telling you, this thing has knocked me all
in a heap. Harry Jennison and I are old friends; I had lunch with him at
the club only yesterday. I'm going to proceed a little differently than
I would with an ordinary criminal."
John Quincy half rose from his chair. "Don't get excited," Greene
smiled. "Jennison will get all that's coming to him, friendship or no
friendship. What I mean is that if I can save the territory the expense
of a long trial by dragging a confession out of him at once, I intend to
do it. He's coming in here in a moment, and I propose to reveal my whole
hand to him, from start to finish. That may seem foolish, but it isn't.
For I hold aces, all aces, and he'll know it as quickly as any one."
The door opened. Spencer ushered Jennison into the room, and then
withdrew. The accused man stood there, proud, haughty, defiant, a viking
of the tropics, a blond giant at bay but unafraid.
"Hello, Jennison," Greene said. "I'm mighty sorry about this--"
"You ought to be," Jennison replied. "You're making an awful fool of
yourself. What is this damned nonsense, anyhow--"
"Sit down," said the prosecutor sharply. He indicated a chair on the
opposite side of the desk. He had already turned the shade on his desk
lamp so the light would shine full in the face of any one sitting there.
"That lamp bother you, Harry?" he asked.
"Why should it?" Jennison demanded.
"Good," smiled Greene. "I believe Captain Hallet served you with a
warrant on the boat. Have you looked at it, by any chance?"
"I have."
The prosecutor leaned across the desk. "Murder, Jennison!"
Jennison's expression did not change. "Damned nonsense, as I told you.
Why should I murder any one?"
"Ah, the motive," Greene replied. "You're quite right, we should begin
with that. Do you wish to be represented here by counsel?"
Jennison shook his head. "I guess I'm lawyer enough to puncture this
silly business," he replied.
"Very well." Greene turned to his stenographer. "Get this." The man
nodded, and the prosecutor addressed Miss Minerva. "Miss Winterslip,
we'll start with you."
Miss Minerva leaned forward. "Mr. Dan Winterslip's house on the beach
has, as I told you, been offered for sale by his daughter. After dinner
this evening a gentleman came to look at it--a prominent lawyer named
Hailey. As we went over the house, Mr. Hailey mentioned that he had met
Dan Winterslip on the street a week before his death, and that my cousin
had spoken to him about coming in shortly to draw up a new will. He did
not say what the provisions of the will were to be, nor did he ever
carry out his intention."
"Ah yes," said Greene. "But Mr. Jennison here was your cousin's lawyer?"
"He was."
"If he wanted to draw a new will, he wouldn't ordinarily have gone to a
stranger for that purpose."
"Not ordinarily. Unless he had some good reason."
"Precisely. Unless, for instance, the will had some connection with
Harry Jennison."
"I object," Jennison cried. "This is mere conjecture."
"So it is," Greene answered. "But we're not in court. We can conjecture
if we like. Suppose, Miss Winterslip, the will was concerned with
Jennison in some way. What do you imagine the connection to have been?"
"I don't have to imagine," replied Miss Minerva. "I know."
"Ah, that's good. You know. Go on."
"Before I came down here to-night, I had a talk with my niece. She
admitted that her father knew she and Jennison were in love, and that he
had bitterly opposed the match. He had even gone so far as to say he
would disinherit her if she went through with it."
"Then the new will Dan Winterslip intended to make would probably have
been to the effect that in the event his daughter married Jennison, she
was not to inherit a penny of his money?"
"There isn't any doubt of it," said Miss Minerva firmly.
"You asked for a motive, Jennison," Greene said. "That's motive enough
for me. Everybody knows you're money mad. You wanted to marry
Winterslip's daughter, the richest girl in the Islands. He said you
couldn't have her--not with the money too. But you're not the sort to
make a penniless marriage. You were determined to get both Barbara
Winterslip and her father's property. Only one person stood in your
way--Dan Winterslip. And that's how you happened to be on his lanai that
Monday night--"
"Wait a minute," Jennison protested. "I wasn't on his lanai. I was on
board the _President Tyler_, and everybody knows that ship didn't land
its passengers until nine the following morning--"
"I'm coming to that," Greene told him. "Just now--by the way, what time
is it?"
Jennison took from his pocket a watch on the end of a slender chain.
"It's a quarter past nine."
"Ah, yes. Is that the watch you usually carry?"
"It is."
"Ever wear a wrist watch?"
Jennison hesitated. "Occasionally."
"Only occasionally." The prosecutor rose and came round his desk. "Let
me see your left wrist, please."
Jennison held out his arm. It was tanned a deep brown, but on the wrist
was etched in white the outline of a watch and its encircling strap.
Greene smiled. "Yes, you have worn a wrist watch--and you've worn it
pretty constantly, from the look of things." He took a small object from
his pocket and held it in front of Jennison. "This watch, perhaps?"
Jennison regarded it stonily. "Ever see it before?" Greene asked. "No?
Well, suppose we try it on, anyhow." He put the watch in position and
fastened it. "I can't help noting, Harry," he continued, "that it fits
rather neatly over that white outline on your wrist. And the prong of
the buckle falls naturally into the most worn of the holes on the
strap."
"What of that?" asked Jennison.
"Oh, coincidence, probably. You have abnormally large wrists, however.
Surf-boarding, swimming, eh? But that's something else I'll speak of
later." He turned to Miss Minerva. "Will you please come over here, Miss
Winterslip."
She came, and as she reached his side, the prosecutor suddenly bent
over and switched off the light on his desk. Save for a faint glimmer
through a transom, the room was in darkness. Miss Minerva was conscious
of dim huddled figures, a circle of white faces, a tense silence. The
prosecutor was lifting something slowly toward her startled eyes. A
watch, worn on a human wrist--a watch with an illuminated dial on which
the figure two was almost obliterated.
"Look at that and tell me," came the prosecutor's voice. "You have seen
it before?"
"I have," she answered firmly.
"Where?"
"In the dark in Dan Winterslip's living-room just after midnight the
thirtieth of June."
Greene flashed on the light. "Thank you, Miss Winterslip." He retired
behind his desk and pressed a button. "You identify it by some
distinguishing mark, I presume?"
"I do. The numeral two, which is pretty well obscured."
Spencer appeared at the door. "Send the Spaniard in," Greene ordered.
"That is all for the present, Miss Winterslip."
Cabrera entered, and his eyes were frightened as they looked at
Jennison. At a nod from the prosecutor, Chan removed the wrist watch and
handed it to the Spaniard.
"You know that watch, José?" Greene asked.
"I--I--yes," answered the boy.
"Don't be afraid," Greene urged. "Nobody's going to hurt you. I want you
to repeat the story you told me this afternoon. You have no regular job.
You're a sort of confidential errand boy for Mr. Jennison here."
"I was."
"Yes--that's all over now. You can speak out. On the morning of
Wednesday, July second, you were in Mr. Jennison's office. He gave you
this wrist watch and told you to take it out and get it repaired.
Something was the matter with it. It wasn't running. You took it to a
big jewelry store. What happened?"
"The man said it is very badly hurt. To fix it would cost more than a
new watch. I go back and tell Mr. Jennison. He laugh and say it is mine
as a gift."
"Precisely." Greene referred to a paper on his desk. "Late in the
afternoon of Thursday, July third, you sold the watch. To whom?"
"To Lau Ho, Chinese jeweler in Maunakea Street. On Saturday evening
maybe six o'clock Mr. Jennison telephone my home, much excited. Must
have watch again, and will pay any price. I speed to Lau Ho's store.
Watch is sold once more, now to unknown Japanese. Late at night I see
Mr. Jennison and he curse me with anger. Get the watch, he says. I have
been hunting, but I could not find it."
Greene turned to Jennison. "You were a little careless with that watch,
Harry. But no doubt you figured you were pretty safe--you had your
alibi. Then, too, when Hallet detailed the clues to you on Winterslip's
lanai the morning after the crime, he forgot to mention that some one
had seen the watch. It was one of those happy accidents that are all we
have to count on in this work. By Saturday night you realized your
danger--just how you discovered it I don't know--"
"I do," John Quincy interrupted.
"What! What's that?" said Greene.
"On Saturday afternoon," John Quincy told him, "I played golf with Mr.
Jennison. On our way back to town, we talked over the clues in this
case, and I happened to mention the wrist watch. I can see now it was
the first he had heard of it. He was to dine with us at the beach, but
he asked to be put down at his office to sign a few letters. I waited
below. It must have been then that he called up this young man in an
effort to locate the watch."
"Great stuff," said Greene enthusiastically. "That finishes the watch,
Jennison. I'm surprised you wore it, but you probably knew that it would
be vital to you to keep track of the time, and you figured, rightly,
that it would not be immediately affected by the salt water--"
"What the devil are you talking about?" demanded Jennison.
Again Greene pressed a button on his desk. Spencer appeared at once.
"Take this Spaniard," the prosecutor directed, "and bring in Hepworth
and the quartermaster." He turned again to Jennison. "I'll show you what
I'm talking about in just a minute. On the night of June thirtieth you
were a passenger on the _President Tyler_, which was lying by until dawn
out near the channel entrance?"
"I was."
"No passengers were landed from that ship until the following morning?"
"That's a matter of record."
"Very well." The second officer of the _President Tyler_ came in,
followed by a big hulking sailorman John Quincy recognized as the
quartermaster of that vessel. He was interested to note a ring on the
man's right hand, and his mind went back to that encounter in the San
Francisco attic.
"Mr. Hepworth," the prosecutor began, "on the night of June thirtieth
your ship reached this port too late to dock. You anchored off Waikiki.
On such an occasion, who is on deck--say, from midnight on?"
"The second officer," Hepworth told him. "In this case, myself. Also the
quartermaster."
"The accommodation ladder is let down the night before?"
"Usually, yes. It was let down that night."
"Who is stationed near it?"
"The quartermaster."
"Ah, yes. You were in charge then on the night of June thirtieth. Did
you notice anything unusual on that occasion?"
Hepworth nodded. "I did. The quartermaster appeared to be under the
influence of liquor. At three o'clock I found him dozing near the
accommodation ladder. I roused him. When I came back from checking up
the anchor bearings before turning in at dawn--about four-thirty--he was
dead to the world. I put him in his cabin, and the following morning I
of course reported him."
"You noticed nothing else out of the ordinary?"
"Nothing, sir," Hepworth replied.
"Thank you very much. Now, you--" Greene turned to the quartermaster.
"You were drunk on duty the night of June thirtieth. Where did you get
the booze?" The man hesitated. "Before you say anything, let me give you
a bit of advice. The truth, my man. You're in pretty bad already. I'm
not making any promises, but if you talk straight here it may help you
in that other matter. If you lie, it will go that much harder with
you."
"I ain't going to lie," promised the quartermaster.
"All right. Where did you get your liquor?"
The man nodded toward Jennison. "He gave it to me."
"He did, eh? Tell me all about it."
"I met him on deck just after midnight--we was still moving. I knew him
before--him and me--"
"In the opium game, both of you. I understand that. You met him on
deck--"
"I did, and he says, you're on watch to-night, eh, and I says I am. So
he slips me a little bottle an' says, this will help you pass the time.
I ain't a drinking man, so help me I ain't, an' I took just a nip, but
there was something in that whisky, I'll swear to it. My head was all
funny like, an' the next I knew I was waked up in my cabin with the bad
news I was wanted above."
"What became of that bottle?"
"I dropped it overboard on my way to see the captain. I didn't want
nobody to find it."
"Did you see anything the night of June thirtieth? Anything peculiar?"
"I seen plenty, sir--but it was that drink. Nothing you would want to
hear about."
"All right." The prosecutor turned to Jennison. "Well, Harry--you
drugged him, didn't you? Why? Because you were going ashore, eh? Because
you knew he'd be on duty at that ladder when you returned, and you
didn't want him to see you. So you dropped something into that
whiskey--"
"Guess work," cut in Jennison, still unruffled. "I used to have some
respect for you as a lawyer, but it's all gone now. If this is the best
you can offer--"
"But it isn't," said Greene pleasantly. Again he pushed the button.
"I've something much better, Harry, if you'll only wait." He turned to
Hepworth. "There's a steward on your ship named Bowker," he began, and
John Quincy thought that Jennison stiffened. "How has he been behaving
lately?"
"Well, he got pretty drunk in Hong-kong," Hepworth answered. "But that,
of course, was the money."
"What money?"
"It's this way. The last time we sailed out of Honolulu harbor for the
Orient, over two weeks ago, I was in the purser's office. It was just as
we were passing Diamond Head. Bowker came in, and he had a big fat
envelope that he wanted to deposit in the purser's safe. He said it
contained a lot of money. The purser wouldn't be responsible for it
without seeing it, so Bowker slit the envelope--and there were ten one
hundred dollar bills. The purser made another package of it and put it
in the safe. He told me Bowker took out a couple of the bills when we
reached Hong-kong."
"Where would a man like Bowker get all that money?"
"I can't imagine. He said he'd put over a business deal in Honolulu
but--well, we knew Bowker."
The door opened. Evidently Spencer guessed who was wanted this time, for
he pushed Bowker into the room. The steward of the _President Tyler_ was
bedraggled and bleary.
"Hello, Bowker," said the prosecutor. "Sober now, aren't you?"
"I'll tell the world I am," replied Bowker. "They've walked me to San
Francisco and back. Can--can I sit down?"
"Of course," Greene smiled. "This afternoon, while you were still
drunk, you told a story to Willie Chan, out at Okamoto's auto stand on
Kalakaua Avenue. Later on, early this evening, you repeated it to
Captain Hallet and me. I'll have to ask you to go over it again."
Bowker glanced toward Jennison, then quickly looked away. "Always ready
to oblige," he answered.
"You're a steward on the _President Tyler_," Greene continued. "On your
last trip over here from the mainland Mr. Jennison occupied one of your
rooms--number 97. He was alone in it, I believe?"
"All alone. He paid extra for the privilege, I hear. Always traveled
that way."
"Room 97 was on the main deck, not far from the accommodation ladder?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Tell us what happened after you anchored off Waikiki the night of June
thirtieth."
Bowker adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses with the gesture of a man about
to make an after-dinner speech. "Well, I was up pretty late that night.
Mr. Winterslip here had loaned me some books--there was one I was
particularly interested in. I wanted to finish it so I could give it to
him to take ashore in the morning. It was nearly two o'clock when I
finally got through it, and I was feeling stuffy, so I went on deck for
a breath of air."
"You stopped not far from the accommodation ladder?"
"Yes sir, I did."
"Did you notice the quartermaster?"
"Yes--he was sound asleep in a deck chair. I went over and leaned on the
rail, the ladder was just beneath me. I'd been standing there a few
minutes when suddenly somebody came up out of the water and put his
hands on the lowest rung. I drew back quickly and stood in a shadow.
"Well, pretty soon this man comes creeping up the ladder to the deck. He
was barefooted, and all in black--black pants and shirt. I watched him.
He went over and bent above the quartermaster, then started toward me
down the deck. He was walking on tiptoe, but even then I didn't get wise
to the fact anything was wrong.
"I stepped out of the shadow. 'Fine night for a swim, Mr. Jennison,' I
said. And I saw at once that I'd made a social error. He gave one jump
in my direction and his hands closed on my throat. I thought my time had
come."
"He was wet, wasn't he?" Greene asked.
"Dripping. He left a trail of water on the deck."
"Did you notice a watch on his wrist?"
"Yes, but you can bet I didn't make any study of it. I had other things
to think about just then. I managed to sort of ooze out of his grip, and
I told him to cut it out or I'd yell. 'Look here,' he says, 'you and I
can talk business, I guess. Come into my cabin.'
"But I wasn't wanting any tête-à-tête with him in any cabin. I said I'd
see him in the morning, and after I'd promised to say nothing to
anybody, he let me go. I went to bed, pretty much puzzled.
"The next morning, when I went into his cabin, there he was all fresh
and rosy and smiling. If I'd had so much as a whiff of booze the night
before, I'd have thought I never saw what I did. I went in there
thinking I might get a hundred dollars out of the affair, but the minute
he spoke I began to smell important money. He said no one must know
about his swim the night before. How much did I want? Well, I held my
breath and said ten thousand dollars. And I nearly dropped dead when he
answered I could have it."
Bowker turned to John Quincy. "I don't know what you'll think of me. I
don't know what Tim would think. I'm not a crook by nature. But I was
fed up and choking over that steward job. I wanted a little newspaper of
my own, and up to that minute I couldn't see myself getting it. And you
must remember that I didn't know then what was in the air--murder.
Later, when I did find out, I was scared to breathe. I didn't know what
they could do to me." He turned to Greene. "That's all fixed," he said.
"I've promised you immunity," the prosecutor answered. "I'll keep my
word. Go on--you agreed to accept the ten thousand?"
"I did. I went to his office at twelve. One of the conditions was that I
could stay on the _President Tyler_ until she got back to San Francisco,
and after that I was never to show my face out this way again. It suited
me. Mr. Jennison introduced me to this Cabrera, who was to chaperon me
the rest of that day. I'll say he did. When I went aboard the ship, he
handed me a thousand dollars in an envelope.
"When I came back this time, I was to spend the day with Cabrera and get
the other nine grand when I sailed. This morning when we tied up I saw
the Spaniard on the dock, but by the time I'd landed he had disappeared.
I met this Willie Chan and we had a large day. This fusel oil they sell
out here loosened my tongue, but I'm not sorry. Of course, the rosy
dream has faded, and it's my flat feet on the deck from now to the end
of time. But the shore isn't so much any more, with all the bar-rooms
under cover, and this sea life keeps a man out in the open air. As I
say, I'm not sorry I talked. I can look any man in the eye again and
tell him to go to--" He glanced at Miss Minerva. "Madam, I will not name
the precise locality."
Greene stood. "Well, Jennison, there's my case. I've tipped it all off
to you, but I wanted you to see for yourself how air-tight it is. There
are two courses open to you--you can let this go to trial with a plea of
not guilty. A long humiliating ordeal for you. Or you can confess here
and now and throw yourself on the mercy of the court. If you're the
sensible man I think you are, that's what you'll do."
Jennison did not answer, did not even look at the prosecutor. "It was a
very neat idea," Greene went on. "I'll grant you that. Only one thing
puzzles me--did it come as the inspiration of the moment, or did you
plan it all out in advance? You've been over to the mainland rather
often of late--were you waiting your chance? Anyhow, it came, didn't
it--it came at last. And for a swimmer like you, child's play. You
didn't need that ladder when you left the vessel--perhaps you went
overboard while the _President Tyler_ was still moving. A quick silent
dive, a little way under water in case any one was watching from the
deck, and then a long but easy swim ashore. And there you were, on the
beach at Waikiki. Not far away Dan Winterslip was asleep on his lanai,
with not so much as a locked door between you. Dan Winterslip, who stood
between you and what you wanted. A little struggle--a quick thrust of
your knife. Come on, Jennison, don't be a fool. It's the best way out
for you now. A full confession."
Jennison leaped to his feet, his eyes flashing. "I'll see you in hell
first!" he cried.
"Very well--if you feel that way about it--" Greene turned his back upon
him and began a low-toned conversation with Hallet. Jennison and Charlie
Chan were together on one side of the desk. Chan took out a pencil and
accidentally dropped it on the floor. He stooped to pick it up.
John Quincy saw that the butt of a pistol carried in Chan's hip pocket
protruded from under his coat. He saw Jennison spring forward and snatch
the gun. With a cry John Quincy moved nearer, but Greene seized his arm
and held him. Charlie Chan seemed unaccountably oblivious to what was
going on.
Jennison put the muzzle of the pistol to his forehead and pulled the
trigger. A sharp click--and that was all. The pistol fell from his hand.
"That's it!" cried Greene triumphantly. "That's my confession, and not a
word spoken. I've witnesses, Jennison--they all saw you--you couldn't
stand the disgrace--a man in your position--you tried to kill yourself.
With an empty gun." He went over and patted Chan on the shoulder. "A
great idea, Charlie," he said. "Chan thought of it," he added to
Jennison. "The Oriental mind, Harry. Rather subtle, isn't it?"
But Jennison had dropped back into his chair and buried his face in his
hands.
"I'm sorry," said Greene gently. "But we've got you. Maybe you'll talk
now."
Jennison looked up slowly. The defiance was gone from his face; it was
lined and old.
"Maybe I will," he said hoarsely.