CHAPTER XX
WHAT THE TELEPHONE TOLD
All West's indifference vanished instantly. He had to pry the paper out,so closely had it been wedged in beneath the closed knife blade, and itrequired a moment in which to straighten it out so that the writing wasdiscernable. Even then the marks were so faint, and minute, he could notreally decipher them until he made use of a magnifying glass lying on thedesk. A woman's hand, using a pencil, had hastily inscribed the words ona scrap of common paper, apparently torn from some book--the inspirationof an instant, perhaps, a sudden hope born of desperation. He fairly hadto dig the words out, letter by letter, copying them on an old envelopeuntil he had the message complete: "_Please notify police to searchSeminole quick_."
West read this over, word by word, again and again. What did it mean? Didit mean anything? Had it any possible connection with the case in whichhe was interested? There was no signature, nothing to guide him; yet insome way the plea sounded real, was a cry of distress, an appeal forhelp. It could be given no other meaning, yet how long had it been lyingthere in the alley? Not any great length of time surely, for the polishedsilver was far too conspicuous to escape notice. It must have beendropped during the night, within a very short time of its discovery. Butwhat did the words signify? "_Notify police_" was clear enough, but"_search Seminole_" meant absolutely nothing. What was "Seminole"--anapartment house? A hotel? A saloon? Perhaps the police would know;evidently the writer so believed, or she would never have used the namewith such confidence. A familiar name to her, she assumed that the policewould have no difficulty in instantly locating the place meant. The hastewith which the message had apparently been written, its short, sharpwords, bespoke urgent need, the consciousness of imminent peril. Plainlythe writer had used the only means at hand in a hurried desperate effortto gain assistance.
"The police." The request had been for the police; then why not appeal tothe police? Why not take the note now directly to headquarters, and letthem help solve its mystery? At first West hesitated, yet a moment'sthought convinced him this would be the logical course to pursue. Hecould accomplish nothing alone, unguided. His appealing to the policeneed not necessarily involve any disclosure relative to the Coolidgematter. He had found this note accidentally in an alley in the northwestsection of the city; his being there need require no special explanation;he did not understand its meaning, but it was quite evidently a policematter, and consequently he placed it in their hands. That all soundednatural enough. Besides at this hour of the night there was no otherplace to which he could go for information.
He looked at Sexton, who was sleeping soundly, and decided not to awakenthe man. He had no use for his services just now; the City Hall was onlya few blocks away, and he might not be out more than an hour himself. Hewould leave a note so that if by any chance he should be delayed, Sextonwould understand what had occurred. He scratched this off hastily, placedit in a conspicuous place, and swiftly departed, after extinguishing thelight. He was no longer conscious of fatigue, or the pain of bruises, hismind eager to learn the meaning of this new discovery.
It had been a quiet night at the City Hall Station, and West encounteredno difficulty in reaching the presence of the lieutenant in charge. Thelatter gazed at his caller curiously over an early edition of the morningpaper, as the officer who had opened the door to the inner office, saidrather doubtfully.
"This guy wants to see you personally, sir; he wouldn't talk to noone else."
"All right, Slavin; shut the door, and I'll hear what he has to say. Whatis it, my man?"
West explained swiftly and clearly, his manner of speech, as well as hisstatement as to who he was, evidently making a favourable impression onhis listener, who interrupted the brief narrative with severalrespectfully asked questions. He look the note, spread it out on thedesk, and studied it carefully.
"Looks genuine enough," he commented at last, "but not very clear. Idon't know any place in this town called Seminole. Wait a minute though;perhaps one of the boys may have an idea."
He pressed a button on top of the desk, and in response to the summons, aside door opened, and a main in plain clothes entered.
"You rang, sir?"
"Yes, McAdams; this gentleman here--"
"Captain West, as I am a sinner!" he exclaimed. "Gee! but I am glad tosee you again, old man! Say. By Gad! you don't remember me."
"Oh, but I certainly do, Mac," and West grasped the extended handheartily. "It's a devil of a surprise, that's all. Saw you last at Brest,the day you sailed for home. So this was your job, Sergeant?"
"Been with the department ever since I was a kid. Put me in plain clothessince I came back. Lieutenant, this is Captain West, over across the pondwith the Engineers; we were buddies for about two months. What waswanted, sir?"
"Well, Captain West has just been telling me a rather peculiar story, andwanted some information I thought perhaps you could give; you know theold town right now better than I do. First of all, do you recall anycrook by the name of Hobart--Jim Hobart?"
"Hobart? Hobart? no, not off hand, I don't. How old a man is he,Captain?"
"Middle-aged, anyway; an active fellow enough, but his hair isquite grey."
"Do you know where he hangs out?"
"The last I saw of him was in a saloon known as Mike's Place over onWray Street."
"Off Milwaukee; yes, I know. Mike is a big Pole, but has never had anyserious trouble so far as I know. However, being there is no specialrecommendation to a guy, but I don't believe this man Hobart has beenpulled since I've been on the force. And you don't recall the name,Lieutenant?"
"No; but he might be an old timer come back. Look him up in the index,Mac. That will soon tell you whether we have got any such mug, or not."
McAdams drew out a thick volume from a near-by cabinet, and ran hisfingers swiftly down a long column of names, indexed under the letter"H." Suddenly he stopped, with an exclamation.
"The lad is here all right--Government offence, fifteen years ago, thirdarrest; mugged number 28113. Let's look him up, and see if he is the sameman. Come over here, Captain."
"Is that the fellow?" he asked.
West studied the face seriously.
"Yes, I believe it is, Mac," he said at length. "He looks much older now,but those are his features all right. What was his game?"
"'Con' mostly, according to the record; only one conviction though, twoyears in Detroit for using the mails to defraud. Oh, yes, here issomething different, 'assault with intent to kill'--indeterminatesentence to Joliet for that. Nothing heard of him since. So he is back,and at the old game again. Do you want him brought in, Captain?"
"No, not yet. I haven't anything against the man now but a suspicion. Iwanted to learn his record, that's all. This inquiry was only incidental.What I'm really interested in just at present is something I picked up inthe alley back of Mike's Place three or four hours ago. It's a note in awoman's hand-writing, and when I found it, it was hidden in a smallsilver pen-knife, such as a lady might carry. I thought it might havesome connection with the case I'm trying to catch this fellow Hobart in."
"There is a woman in it, then?"
"Yes; but I haven't got things hitched up sufficiently to talk about it.The note itself is blind."
"In what respect?"
"Well, here it is. Can you make it out? I'll read it for you--'_Pleasenotify police to search Seminole quick_.'"
"No signature?"
"None."
"But that is plain enough, isn't it?"
"Yes, if you know what she means by Seminole; what is it? a street? anapartment house? a saloon? Do you know of anything under that name?"
McAdams stood motionless thinking.
"No, by thunder, I don't," he admitted reluctantly. "There is no streetof that name in the city. There used to be a shady hotel over on OntarioStreet called 'The Seminole,' but that was torn down ten years ago. Inever heard of any other--did you, Dave?"
"No," answered the lieutenant slowly, sucking away a
t a cigar. "I justbeen looking over the directory, and I don't find nothing. Maybe it's thename of a boat--seems to me I've heard some such name before, but I don'tjust recollect where."
"A boat! Well, that's a straw anyway, and worth looking up." Mac pickedup the telephone. "Who is on at the Harbour Master's office this timeof night?"
"Winchell, usually, and he'll have a record there."
The detective jiggled the receiver impatiently.
"Yes, this is police headquarters calling. Give me the Harbour Master'soffice, please--I said the Harbour office. Oh, is this you, Dan? BobMcAdams speaking. Do you know of any boat on the lakes called the_Seminole_? What's that? A lumber schooner at Escanaba? Never makes thisport, you say? And you don't know of any other by that name? Sure, I'llhold the wire; look it up."
"Not a very promising lead," he said over his shoulder, "but Dan willhave the dope for us in a minute."
He suddenly straightened up, the receiver at his ear.
"I didn't quite get that, Dan. A medium sized yacht, you say? Where isit? Oh, at the Jackson Park lagoon. I see; and who did you say owned it?What's that? I didn't quite catch the name--Coolidge? What Coolidge?Exactly; the fellow who killed himself out south. Hold the wire."
He swung about to face West, the receiver still at his ear.
"This mean anything to you?"
"It surely does," eagerly. "The girl I spoke of was Natalie Coolidge. Byall the gods, we are on the right track."
"All right, Dan," resuming his conversation. "What's that? Coolidge hadthe boat up the river a few weeks ago trying to sell it. That's how youhappened to remember the name--I see. Say, is there any one out atJackson Park I could talk to at this hour? Who? Oh, yes, the LifeSaving Station. Sure: somebody will be on duty there. Thanks, oldman--good night."
He hung the receiver up on the hook, and reached for the telephonedirectory.
"Some luck, I say. Jackson Park--oh, yes, here it is. All right, Central;sure, that is the proper number. This is the City Hall PoliceHeadquarters again; hustle it up, please. Hullo, Jackson Park Life SavingStation? Good; this is McAdams speaking from the City Detective Bureau.Is there a yacht out there in the lagoon called the Seminole? belongs toa man named Coolidge; medium sized boat, with gas engine. Yes; what'sthat? Not there now; went out into the lake about two hours ago. The hellit did! Who was aboard? do you know? Say that again; oh, you wasn't onwatch when she sailed; your partner said what? Three men and a woman. Allright, yes, I got it. Say now, listen; this is a police matter, so keepyour eyes open. It will be daylight pretty soon, and if you get sight ofthat boat, call up the City Hall Station at once. Do you get me?"
He wheeled about, smiling whimsically.
"It's on again, off again, Flannigan. We had it, and we have it not.Dave I am getting interested; I feel the lure of the chase. What sayyou? Can you spare me for a day or two? You can? good enough; we'll combthe lakes until we find out who is sailing aboard the _Seminole_. You'rewith me, old man?"
West extended his hand silently, and the fingers of the two clasped in amutual pledge.