riding in. Say, you've
questioned me about enough, so let up. Listen now--you will stay in
this stateroom until we get ready to let you out. Don't try any funny
business either, for if you do, you are going to get hurt. There is a
guard outside in the cabin, and we are not afraid to shoot out here on
the lake. Nobody knows where you are, West; so if you want to live,
keep quiet--that's my advice."

He started back, one hand on the knob of the door, but West stopped him.

"Do you mind telling me where we are bound?" he questioned.

Hogan smiled, but the smile was not altogether a pleasant one.

"You will have to wait, and find that out for yourself, Captain. My
orders are not to talk."

"From Hobart?"

"Sure; Jim is engineering this deal, and whatever he says goes, for he's
the guy who has his hands on the dough--see?"

He slipped out, closing and locking the door behind him. West, more
thoroughly confused than ever over the situation in which he found
himself, paced the brief length of the narrow stateroom, and then paused
to stare moodily out of the port. His eyes rested on the same wide
expanse of water, no longer brightened by the glow of the sun. A mass of
clouds veiled the sky, while a floating bank of fog obscured the horizon,
limiting the scope of his vision. Everything appeared grey and desolate,
and the restless surge of waves were crested with foam. It was hard to
judge just where the sun was, yet he had an impression the vessel had
veered to the north, and was proceeding straight up the lake, already
well out of sight from either shore.

He had learned little of the slightest value; merely that Natalie had
been of the party leaving in the automobile the night before. She,
undoubtedly, had been the one who had dropped the note. Then, in spite of
all they said about her, in spite of what she had told him, she was
actually a prisoner, desperately begging for assistance to escape. As to
the other things Hogan had told him, the probability was they were mostly
lies. West did not believe the girl had returned to 'Fairlawn,' the story
did not sound natural. If she had written that note, these fellows would
never trust her alone, where she could communicate with friends. They
might venture to send her in to talk with him, knowing her every word was
overheard, but surely they would never be reckless enough to leave her
free to act as she pleased. That was unthinkable. Besides why should they
have taken this