West leaned far out, and stared off at the faint blotch made by the raft against the water surface. He could perceive little except a bare, shapeless outline.
"Did you make it? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm safe enough; but wet just the same; the thing bobbed under."
"It will hold us up though, don't you think?"
"Why, of course, it will float; it is supposed to support four people. It rides dry enough now. But--but, Captain West, I want you to come."
"I'm coming; I'll throw my shoes and coat over there to you first. To be rid of them will make swimming easier. Watch out now--good! Now draw in the line; we may need it. Got it all right? Very well; here goes."
He made the plunge, coming up to the surface close beside the raft, the edge of which he quickly grasped with his hands. The girl remained motionless, barely perceptible through the gloom, but with anxious eyes marking his every movement. The frail support beneath her rose and fell on the swell of the waters, occasionally dipping beneath the surface. Beyond, a grim, black, threatening shadow, wallowed the wreck. West swam steadily, urging the unwieldy raft away from the menacing side of the vessel, driven by the necessity of escaping the inevitable suction when she went down. It was a hard, slow push, the square sides of the raft offering every obstacle to progress. Yet the waves and wind helped somewhat, the raft being lighter than the water-sogged
Seminole, so that gradually the distance widened, until there extended a considerable waste of water between the two. Exhausted by his exertion, and breathing hard, West glanced back over his shoulder at the dimmer shadow of the yacht, now barely revealed against the clouded sky. The bulk of it seemed scarcely visible in any defined form above the level of the sea--the end must be almost at hand.
Satisfied that they were far enough away for safety, he clambered cautiously upon the platform, the girl as carefully making room for him on the few dry planks. The raft tossed dizzily under the strain, but he made it at last, the water draining from his soaked clothing, his flesh shivering at the touch of the cool night air. He sat up, his limbs braced to hold him erect, glancing aside at her, wondering at her continued silence. Even in the darkness she must have known his eyes were searching her face.
"You are cold," she said, doubtfully. "Here is your coat, and I have kept it dry--no, really, I do not need it; I am quite warmly dressed."
He threw the garment over his wet shoulders, gratefully, and the two sat there very close together, staring back at the labouring
Seminole. There was nothing to say, nothing to do; for the moment at least they were safe, and perhaps morning would bring rescue. Suddenly West straightened up, aroused by a new interest--surely that last wave went entirely over the yacht's rail; he could see the white gleam of spray as it broke; and, yes, there was another! Unconsciously his hand reached out and clasped that of his companion. She made no effort to draw away, and they sat there in awed silence, watching this weird tragedy of the sea, with bodies braced to meet the bobbing of the unwieldy support beneath them.
At first the labouring vessel seemed to hold its own, fighting desperately to remain afloat, a mere shadow above the surface. Then, almost without warning, the end came. She went down bow first, the stern lifting until West could discern the dark outlines of the screw, and then dropped like a stone, vanishing almost instantly. One moment she was there; the next had disappeared, the black waters closing over. There was but little evidence of what occurred; only a deeper swell, tossing the raft giddily about for a moment, and causing West to tighten his grip on the girl's hand. She gave utterance to a half-smothered cry, and her body dropped forward as though she would hide the scene from her eyes.
"That is the last of the
Seminole" West said, feeling the necessity of strengthening her. "But it is nothing to frighten you. We are safe enough here."
"Oh, it is not that," she explained hastily, lifting her head, and facing him. "I--I do not think I am frightened. I have not broken down before, but--but I thought then of that dead man lying there all alone in the dark cabin. It seemed so terrible when the yacht sank. Please do not find fault with me."
"That was not why I spoke. But you must keep your nerve; we may be afloat for hours yet before we are picked up."
"You are sure we will be?"
"The probability is altogether in our favour," he insisted, as much to encourage himself as her. "This is Lake Michigan in summer time, and boats are plying everywhere. We shall surely be sighted by something when daylight returns. There is no sign of a storm brewing, and all we need do now is hold on."
She was silent a moment, with head again bent forward.
"What do you suppose became of the men who deserted the yacht?" she asked, her voice natural and quiet.
"Ashore, perhaps, by this time."
"Then we cannot be far away from land?"
"I have no means of knowing. Probably not, if they relied upon oars."
"Why should they? There was a mast and sails stowed in the boat; they were always kept there for an emergency." She lifted her eyes, and stared about into the gloom. "Do you suppose, Captain West, they could have remained nearby to make sure the yacht sank?"
"No, I do not," he said firmly. "I thought of that once myself; but it is not at all probable. They were too certain they had done a good job, and too eager to get away safely. Hogan never deemed it possible for us to get away alive. As it was, the escape was almost a miracle."
"A miracle!" softly. "Perhaps so, yet I know who accomplished it. I owe my life to you, Captain West," she paused doubtfully, and then went on impulsively. "Won't you explain to me now what it all means? How you came to be here? and--and why those men sought in this way to kill me?"
"You do not know?"
"Only in the vaguest way; is it my fortune? I have been held prisoner; lied to, and yet nothing has been made clear. This man who went down in the cabin--you said he died trying to save me?"
"Yes; he endeavoured to release you from the stateroom, and was caught by Hogan. In the struggle he received a death wound."
"I heard them fight. This Hogan then was the leader?"
"Of those on board--yes. But he is only the tool of others. This devilish conspiracy has been plotted for a long while. There must be a dozen involved in it, one way or another, but, as near as I can learn, the chief devil, the brains of the gang, is the fellow named Hobart. Have you known him--long?"
She hesitated, and West glanced aside wonderingly. Would she venture to deny her knowledge of the man?
"No," she said at last doubtfully, "not unless his other name was Jim. There was a fellow they called Jim. He was my jailer after that woman locked me into a room."
"A woman? The same one who was with you on the yacht?"
"Yes."
"Where was this?"
"Why surely you must know. In that cottage where we stopped with Percival Coolidge."
He drew a deep breath, more thoroughly puzzled than ever. What could be her purpose to make so bold an effort to deceive? Did she imagine for a moment that he could be made to believe she had been continuously held prisoner since that Sunday morning? It was preposterous. Why, he had seen her again and again with his own eyes; had talked with her, and so had Sexton. His heart sank, but he determined to go on, and learn how far she would carry this strange tale. Perhaps out of the welter he could discern some truth.
"The fellow's name is Jim, all right, Jim Hobart. I've looked him up in the police records. He is a confidence man, with one charge of assault with attempt to kill against him. Nothing lately, however; it seems he disappeared about ten years ago, and has just drifted back. The woman passes as his wife. You knew nothing of all this?"
"No; I only saw the man twice; he was very rough then, and swore when I questioned him."
"And the woman?"
"She would not talk either; only once she told me that Percival Coolidge had committed suicide. That made me wonder, for I believed he had something to do with my being held there. What did he say when he returned to the auto without me? What explanation did he make for my absence?"
"Explanation! He needed none; you came out of the cottage with him."
"I? What do you mean?"
"But I saw you with my own eyes, talked with you, and all three of us drove back to 'Fairlawn' together. My God, Miss Natalie, have you lost your mind? Do you even deny dismissing me from your service?"
She gazed at him through the gloom, utterly unable to comprehend.
"I must have, if what you say is true," she admitted, "For I certainly have no such recollection."
"You remember nothing of going back with us to 'Fairlawn'?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Or of a conversation had with me later in the library?"
"No, Captain West."
He stared off into the black night, his lips pressed closely together. Could this be false? Could she sit there calmly, in the midst of such peril as surrounded them, and still deliberately endeavour to deceive?
"And you knew nothing of the death of Percival Coolidge, except what was told you by that woman?"
"She brought me a newspaper which I read; that was all I knew."
"And in that house on Wray Street where I met you again last night. I suppose you were not there either?"
"Wray Street? I do not know; I was at some place with a saloon on the ground floor. I could not tell you where it was."
"That is where it was--Wray Street, on the northwest side, a thieves' rendezvous. And you talked with me there; tried to get me to quit following you. You surely haven't forgotten that already?"
She dropped her face wearily into her hands, and her voice sounded listless.
"I--I almost believe you are the crazy one, Captain West. I swear I have never knowingly met, or spoken to you since we drove to that cottage on Sunday. I cannot believe what you say."
"Yet it is true, every word true"; he asserted stoutly. "Why else should I be here? You returned with us to 'Fairlawn,' and we chatted together pleasantly all the way. Later you seemed to change, and discharged me rather rudely. Then Percival Coolidge was killed--shot down by an assassin, not a suicide. I know because I found the body. You were at the inquest, and testified. I saw you with my own eyes. The next day you discharged Sexton, and later he learned, and reported to me, that some one called you on the phone from Wray Street, and wanted you to come over there at once."
"Was that why you went there?"
"Yes; I felt something was wrong; the killing of Percival Coolidge had aroused my suspicions; and I sought to learn who those people were you had visited in the cottage. They were gone, and only for this telephone call, I should have lost the trail entirely. I found you there, and this fellow Hobart with you."
"But, Captain West, I never saw you; I never left the room in the third story where I was locked in, except when they took me away in a machine to the yacht."
"You dropped a note in the alley, enclosed in a silver knife?"
"Yes, I did. I dared not hope it would be found, but I took the chance. Did you find it?"
"Sexton did, and that was what brought me here."
"But it is all so strange," she exclaimed despairingly. "How could I have done all these things, been in all these places, and yet know nothing about it? Could I have been drugged? or influenced in some way by those people? I have read there is such a power--where one person can make another obey absolutely, with no knowledge of what he is doing; what do they call that?"
"Hypnotism. I have seen it cut some odd capers; but I do not believe you were either hypnotized or drugged. Good God; why did I not think of this solution before? I must have been blind; that was not you; I can recall a hundred little things now to convince me."
"What is it you mean?"
"Another woman played your part; a woman most wonderfully like you, even to the voice. There is no other solution of the problem. And that reveals the plan of robbery--to get you out of the way, and then have her take the fortune. Who would ever suspect such a fraud?"
She sat silent, motionless, apparently unable at once to grasp all the meaning in his words. It seemed unbelievable, and her gaze was straight out across the black waters, one hand clinging firmly to offset the rocking of the frail raft. Then she pointed away into the distance.
"See, there is light over there," she exclaimed eagerly. "That must be the east, and it is morning."