Your estate was about to be settled finally, and
given over to your control in accordance with the terms of your father's
will. Hobart must have known all this from Percival Coolidge, and exactly
what steps must be taken to secure it. Once the money, and other
property, were delivered to the fake Natalie, the cashing in and get away
would be easy; even the identity of the thieves would be concealed.
Killing you was not at all necessary to the success of their scheme."
"But they did try to kill me."
"Yes, later, by the sinking of the yacht. Probably I am largely
responsible for that."
"You?"
"Yes; the persistency with which I stuck to the trail. They became
frightened. My appearance in Wray Street must have been quite a shock,
and when I succeeded in escaping from their trap there, Hobart very
evidently lost his head completely. He did not dare risk my ever finding
you. The knowledge that I was free, perhaps in communication with the
police, led to your night trip to the _Seminole_, and the secret sinking
of the yacht. He had gone too far by then to hesitate at another murder."
She waited breathlessly for him to go on, her eyes on the tumbling waste
of water. He remained quiet, motionless, and she turned toward him
expectantly.
"I--I think I understand now," she admitted, "how all this occurred; but
why--why were you so persistent? There--there must have been a reason
more impelling than a vague suspicion?"
"There was--the most compelling impulse in the world.
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