The Greatest Works of Earl Derr Biggers (Illustrated Edition). Earl Derr Biggers
Читать онлайн книгу.
boy's arm. For a moment the Hawaiian seemed about to protest, but evidently he thought better of it. Spencer placed the package on a table and stood over Kaohla.
"Want to see Brade, eh?" he began in a threatening tone.
"Yes."
"What for?"
"Business is private."
"Well, I'm telling you to come across. You're in bad. Better change your mind and talk."
"No."
"All right. We'll see about that. What have you got in that package?" The boy's eyes went to the table, but he made no answer.
Chan took out a pocket knife. "Simple matter to discover," he said. He cut the rough twine, unwound several layers of newspapers. John Quincy pressed close, he felt that something important was about to be divulged.
The last layer of paper came off. "Hot dog!" cried Chan. He turned quickly to John Quincy. "Oh, I am so sorry—I pick up atrocious phrase like that from my cousin Mr. Willie Chan, Captain of All Chinese baseball team—"
But John Quincy did not hear, his eyes were glued to the object that lay on the table. An ohia wood box, bound with copper—the initials T. M. B.
"We will unlatch it," said Chan. He made an examination. "No, locked most strongly. We will crash into it at police station, where you and I and this silent Hawaiian will now hasten. Mr. Spencer, you will remain on spot here. Should Brade appear, you know your duty."
"I do," said Spencer.
"Mr. Kaohla, do me the honor to accompany," continued Chan. "At police headquarters much talk will be extracted out of you."
They turned toward the door. As they did so, Carlota Egan came up. "May I speak to you a moment?" she said to John Quincy.
"Surely." He walked with her to the desk.
"I went to the lanai just now," she whispered breathlessly. "Some one was crouching outside the window near where you were talking. I went closer and it was—Mr. Saladine!"
"Aha," said John Quincy. "Mr. Saladine had better drop that sort of thing, or he'll get himself in trouble."
"Should we tell Chan?"
"Not yet. You and I will do a little investigating ourselves first. Chan has other things to think about. And we don't want any of our guests to leave unless it's absolutely necessary."
"We certainly don't," she smiled. "I'm glad you've got the interests of the house at heart."
"That's just where I've got them—" John Quincy began, but Chan cut in.
"Humbly begging pardon," he said, "we must speed. Captain Hallet will have high delight to encounter this Kaohla, to say nothing of ohia wood box."
In the doorway, Kaohla crowded close to John Quincy, and the latter was startled by the look of hate he saw in the boy's stormy eyes. "You did this," muttered the Hawaiian. "I don't forget."
Chapter XV. The Man From India
They clattered along Kalakaua Avenue in Chan's car.
John Quincy sat alone on the rear seat; at the detective's request he held the ohia wood box on his knees.
He rested his hands upon it. Once it had eluded him, but he had it now. His mind went back to that night in the attic two thousand miles away, the shadow against the moonlit window, the sting of a jewel cutting across his cheek. Roger's heartfelt cry of "Poor old Dan!" Did they hold at last, in this ohia wood box, the answer to the mystery of Dan's death?
Hallet was waiting in his room. With him was a keen-eyed, efficient looking man evidently in his late thirties.
"Hello, boys," said the captain. "Mr. Winterslip, meet Mr. Greene, our district court prosecutor."
Greene shook hands cordially. "I've been wanting to meet you, sir," he said. "I know your city rather well. Spent three years at your Harvard Law School."
"Really?" replied John Quincy with enthusiasm.
"Yes. I went there after I got through at New Haven. I'm a Yale man, you know."
"Oh," remarked John Quincy, without any enthusiasm at all. But Greene seemed a pleasant fellow, despite his choice of college.
Chan had set the box on the table before Hallet, and was explaining how they had come upon it. The captain's thin face had brightened perceptibly. He inspected the treasure. "Locked, eh?" he remarked. "You got the key, Kaohla?"
The Hawaiian shook his head sullenly. "No."
"Watch your step, boy," warned Hallet. "Go over him, Charlie."
Chan went over him, rapidly and thoroughly. He found a key ring, but none of the keys fitted the lock on the box. He also brought to light a fat roll of bills.
"Where'd you get all that money, Dick?" Hallet inquired.
"I got it," glowered the boy.
But Hallet was more interested in the box. He tapped it lovingly. "This is important, Mr. Greene. We may find the solution of our puzzle in here." He took a small chisel from his desk, and after a brief struggle, pried open the lid.
John Quincy, Chan and the prosecutor pressed close, their eyes staring eagerly as the captain lifted the lid. The box was empty.
"Filled with nothing," murmured Chan. "Another dream go smash against stone wall."
The disappointment angered Hallet. He turned on Kaohla. "Now, my lad," he said. "I want to hear from you. You've been in touch with Brade, you talked with him last Sunday night, you've heard he's returning to-night. You've got some deal on with him. Come across and be quick about it."
"Nothing to tell," said the Hawaiian stubbornly.
Hallet leaped to his feet. "Oh, yes you have. And by heaven, you're going to tell it. I'm not any too patient to-night and I warn you if you don't talk and talk quick I'm likely to get rough." He stopped suddenly and turned to Chan. "Charlie, that Inter-Island boat is due from Maui about now. Get down to the dock and watch for Brade. You've got his description?"
"Sure," answered Chan. "Thin pale face, one shoulder descended below other, gray mustaches that droop in saddened mood."
"That's right. Keep a sharp lookout. And leave this lad to us. He won't have any secrets when we get through with him, eh, Mr. Greene?"
The prosecutor, more discreet, merely smiled.
"Mr. Winterslip," said Chan. "The night is delicious. A little stroll to moonly dock—"
"I'm with you," John Quincy replied. He looked back over his shoulder as he went, and reflected that he wouldn't care to be in Kaohla's shoes.
The pier-shed was dimly lighted and a small but diversified group awaited the incoming boat. Chan and John Quincy walked to the far end and there, seated on a packing-case, they found the water-front reporter of the evening paper.
"Hello, Charlie," cried Mr. Mayberry. "What you doing here?"
"Maybe friend arrive on boat," grinned Chan.
"Is that so?" responded Mayberry. "You boys over at the station have certainly become pretty mysterious all of a sudden. What's doing, Charlie?"
"All pronouncements come from captain," advised Chan.
"Yeah, we've heard his pronouncements," sneered Mayberry. "The police have unearthed clues and are working on them. Nothing to report at present. It's sickening. Well, sit down, Charlie. Oh—Mr. Winterslip—good evening. I didn't recognize you at first."
"How are you," said John Quincy. He and Chan also found packing-cases. There was a penetrating odor of sugar in the air. Through a wide opening in the pier-shed they gazed along the