23. MOONLIGHT AT THE CROSSROADS
They filed out, leaving Jennison with Greene and the stenographer. In the anteroom Chan approached John Quincy.
“You go home decked in the shining garments of success,” he said. “One thought is tantalizing me. At simultaneous moment you arrive at same conclusion we do. To reach there you must have leaped across considerable cavity.”
John Quincy laughed. “I’ll say I did. It came to me to-night. First, some one mentioned a golf professional with big wrists who drove a long ball. I had a quick flash of Jennison on the links here, and his terrific drives. Big wrists, they told me, meant that a man was proficient in the water. Then some one else—a young woman—spoke of a champion swimmer who left a ship off Waikiki. That was the first time the idea of such a th
