There was little to do but wait impatiently for some further message of guidance. McAdams dispatched a few telegrams to nearby lake ports, and briefly outlined certain plans of action for the morrow, provided nothing further was heard from the missing boat; these included a possible visit to Fairlawn, and a city-wide search for Hobart, who both men decided could not be included among the party on the yacht. West told his new assistant the entire story in detail, and Mac's interest in ferreting out the matter became intense. It was the kind of case which fascinated him with its mystery, but no theory he could spin born from long police experience, seemed to exactly fit all the revealed facts. The great puzzle revolved about the strange actions of the girl; her part in the affair presenting an unsolvable riddle. They must have talked for an hour, discussing the situation frankly from every angle, yet arriving at no definite conclusion. The sky in the east was red with dawn when both men fell fast asleep in their chairs, still waiting.
It was nine o'clock, and still no word. The two had eaten a hasty breakfast in a restaurant across the street, discussing the situation again thoroughly, but to no more satisfactory result. It seemed impossible to reconcile certain facts. If the silver knife, with its call for help, had indeed been dropped by Natalie Coolidge, and she was being held a prisoner in the hands of villains on board the Seminole, why had she acted toward West as she did in that house on Wray Street? To all appearances there she had been hand in glove with the conspirators, willing even to connive at the Captain's murder if necessary to the success of their crime. Only one theory was possible; that the girl was under constraint, driven to her strange act by personal fear. She dare do nothing else, terrorized by the threats of Hobart, and her own sense of utter helplessness in his power. This, and this only, must be the answer to the riddle.
McAdams, unable to remain quiet, departed to get his police search started in an attempt to discover Hobart in his new hiding place. The fellow could not be on the yacht, as that had sailed from Jackson Port at far too early an hour for him to have possibly made one of the party. He would still be in the city then, securely concealed in some dive of the underworld, perfecting his plans, whatever they might be, and, perhaps, arranging to join those on the boat later. The detective even thought this unlikely, his theory being that Hobart merely desired to get the girl safely out of the way for a length of time sufficient to enable him to complete his nefarious scheme. He argued that Natalie was in no real danger; she would be held no doubt, kept out of sight as long as was necessary, but otherwise left uninjured. This was no strong-arm crime, but a high class confidence game, and the important thing was to quickly lay hands on Hobart. With him once in the toils, the whole conspiracy would instantly collapse. With this end in view, McAdams took up the man's trail, leaving West to stand guard over the telephone.