John Quincy turned. "Oh, pardon me, Captain," he said. "I forgot to mention it, but I'm leaving you here. Good-by."
Hallet grunted and started his car. While the girl paid for her taxi out of a tiny purse, John Quincy picked up her suit-case.
"This time," he said, "I insist on carrying it." They stepped through the gateway into the garden that might have been Eden on one of its better days. "You didn't tell me we might meet in Honolulu," the boy remarked.
"I wasn't sure we would." She glanced at the shabby old hotel. "You see, I'm not exactly a social favorite out here." John Quincy could think of no reply, and they mounted the crumbling steps. The public room was quite deserted. "And why have we met?" the girl continued. "I'm fearfully puzzled. What was dad's business with those men? One of them was Captain Hallet—a policeman—"
John Quincy frowned. "I'm not so sure your father wants you to know."
"But I've got to know, that's obvious. Please tell me."
John Quincy relinquished the suit-case, and brought forward a chair. The girl sat down.
"It's this way," he began. "My Cousin Dan was murdered in the night."
Her eyes were tragic. "Oh—poor Barbara!" she cried. That's right, he mustn't forget Barbara. "But dad—oh, go on please—"
"Your father visited Cousin Dan last night at eleven, and he refuses to say why. There are other things he refuses to tell."