"
"But that is plain enough, isn't it?"
"Yes, if you know what she means by Seminole; what is it? a street? an
apartment 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 street
of that name in the city. There used to be a shady hotel over on Ontario
Street called 'The Seminole,' but that was torn down ten years ago. I
never heard of any other--did you, Dave?"
"No," answered the lieutenant slowly, sucking away at a cigar. "I just
been looking over the directory, and I don't find nothing. Maybe it's the
name of a boat--seems to me I've heard some such name before, but I don't
just recollect where."
"A boat! Well, that's a straw anyway, and worth looking up." Mac picked
up the telephone. "Who is on at the Harbour Master's office this time
of 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's
office, please--I said the Harbour office. Oh, is this you, Dan? Bob
McAdams speaking. Do you know of any boat on the lakes called the
_Seminole_? What's that? A lumber schooner at Escanaba? Never makes this
port, you say? And you don't know of any other by that name? Sure, I'll
hold the wire; look it up."
"Not a very promising lead," he said over his shoulder, "but Dan will
have the dope for us in a minute.
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