THE COMING OF DAWN
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."