“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?”