nity to communicate
with some one on the pier. Perhaps by this time Mac would have arrived,
and be watching their departure, unable to intervene, as he had no
warrant for arrest, or any definite knowledge that the yacht was being
used for a criminal purpose. He had not long to wait. Hurrying steps
echoed along the deck; a voice shouted out some order, and the end of a
loosened rope dropped splashing into the water astern; the boat trembled
to the pulsations of the engine, and West realized that it was at first
slowly, then more swiftly, slipping away into the broad water. Already he
could perceive the white wake astern, and, an instant later, as the turn
to the right widened, he had a glimpse of the pier, already separated
from him by a broad expanse of trembling water. Above the noise his voice
would scarcely reach that distance. A crowd of people stood there
watching, clinging along the edge of the promenade--McAdams was not among
them. It would be useless to strive to attract their attention; not one
among them would comprehend; even if they did, not one of them could
help. He still stood there, gazing back at the fast receding pier,
gradually becoming blurred in the distance, but hopelessly. He knew now
he must face his fate alone.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE FATE OF A PRISONER

The _Seminole_ headed straight out into the lake, its course evidently a
little to the north of east. The steady throb of the engine exhibited no
lack of power, the snowy wake behind telling of rapid progress. There was
a distinct swell to the water, increasing as they advanced, but not
enough to seriously retard speed, the sharp bow of the yacht cutting
through the waves like the blade of a knife, the broken water churning
along the sides. West clung to his perch, peering out through the open
port, watching the fast disappearing shore line in the giant curve from
the Municipal Pier northward to Lincoln Park. In spite of the brightness
overhead, there must have been fog in the air, for that distant view
quickly became obscure and then as suddenly vanished altogether. There
remained no sign of land in sight; only the seemingly limitless expanse
of blue water, not so much as a trail of smoke breaking the encircling
rim of the sky.

Except for the occasional tread of feet on the deck above, and the faint
call of a voice giving orders, the yacht seemed deserted, moving unguided
across the waste of waters. No sound of movement or speech reach