There wasn't a damn thing to take after it in,
and, besides, just then, I didn't really know any good police reason for
chasing her. First thing I did was to try and find you, so we could get
our heads together. But you wasn't there, and so I naturally jumped to
the conclusion you must have got aboard someway. Say I combed that pier,
believe me, West, and finally I ran across a kid who put me wise. He saw
you go across the deck, and into the cabin with two other guys. They came
out again, but you didn't. I pumped him until I got a pretty good
description of both those fellows, and I decided one of them must be
'Red' Hogan, about the toughest gun-man in Chicago."
"It was Hogan."
"I made sure of that afterwards. Then I got busy. If you was in the hands
of that guy, and his gang, the chances was dead against you. But there
wasn't a darn thing I could do, except to hunt up Hobart, wire every town
along the north shore to keep an eye out for the yacht, and pick up a
thread or two around town. I got a bit at that to wise me up. We found
Hobart hid away in a cheap hotel out on Broadway, and put a trailer on
him. The girl had disappeared; she'd been to a bank, and then to the
Coolidge lawyer and signed some papers; after that we lost all trace of
her for awhile. Your man Sexton, out at 'Fairlawn,' reported that she
hadn't returned there. Then I got desperate and decided I'd blow the
whole thing to the Coolidge lawyer, and get him to take a hand.
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