"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."

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
director