"
He suddenly straightened up, the receiver at his ear.
"I didn't quite get that, Dan. A medium sized yacht, you say? Where is
it? Oh, at the Jackson Park lagoon. I see; and who did you say owned it?
What's that? I didn't quite catch the name--Coolidge? What Coolidge?
Exactly; the fellow who killed himself out south. Hold the wire."
He swung about to face West, the receiver still at his ear.
"This mean anything to you?"
"It surely does," eagerly. "The girl I spoke of was Natalie Coolidge. By
all the gods, we are on the right track."
"All right, Dan," resuming his conversation. "What's that? Coolidge had
the boat up the river a few weeks ago trying to sell it. That's how you
happened to remember the name--I see. Say, is there any one out at
Jackson Park I could talk to at this hour? Who? Oh, yes, the Life
Saving Station. Sure: somebody will be on duty there. Thanks, old
man--good night."
He hung the receiver up on the hook, and reached for the telephone
directory.
"Some luck, I say. Jackson Park--oh, yes, here it is. All right, Central;
sure, that is the proper number. This is the City Hall Police
Headquarters again; hustle it up, please. Hullo, Jackson Park Life Saving
Station? Good; this is McAdams speaking from the City Detective Bureau.
Is there a yacht out there in the lagoon called the Seminole? belongs to
a man named Coolidge; medium sized boat, with gas engine. Yes; what's
that? Not there now; went out into the lake about two hours ago.
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