Dan Winterslip strolled back to his living-room. He sat down in a rattan chair that had been made especially for him in Hong-Kong, and glanced complacently about at the many evidences of his prosperity. His butler entered, bearing a tray with cocktails.
"Two, Haku?" smiled Winterslip. "The lady is from Boston."
"Yes-s," hissed Haku, and retired soundlessly.
In a moment Miss Minerva came again into the room. She carried a letter in her hand, and she was laughing.
"Dan, this is too absurd," she said.
"What is?"
"I may have told you that they were getting worried about me at home. Because I haven't been able to tear myself away from Honolulu, I mean. Well, they're sending a policeman for me."
"A policeman?" He lifted his bushy eyebrows.
"Yes, it amounts to that. It's not being done openly, of course. Grace writes that John Quincy has six weeks' vacation from the banking house, and has decided to make the trip out here. 'It will give you some one to come home with, my dear,' says Grace. Isn't she subtle?"
"John Quincy Winterslip? That would be Grace's son."