She did not answer so as to be heard, but West could distinguish the movement of feet in the outer cabin, and then the closing of a door. Undoubtedly the two men had gone on deck, leaving the woman there alone. His feet were not tied, and he could sit up, although the hands were tightly bound behind him. With eyes accustoming themselves to the gloom, he could discern something of his surroundings. He was in the ordinary stateroom of a small yacht, with barely space in which to move about comfortably. Two bunks were at one side, with a metal stand at their foot for washing purposes. A rug covered the floor, the beds were made, and a stool, screwed to the deck, occupied a position just below the porthole. A few hooks were in evidence on the opposite wall; but no garments dangled from them to tell of previous occupancy. Indeed the place was scrupulously clean, as though unused for some time. West made his way to the port, pushed aside the curtain with his shoulders and looked out. The smallness of the opening made any hope of escape in that way impossible; nor could he expect to attract the attention of any one ashore. His view was limited to the east and north, a wide expanse of blue water, the only thing in sight being the pleasure boat bound for Lincoln Park, already little more than a black dot in the distance. Convinced of his complete helplessness, he sat down on the stool to consider the situation. He had been a fool; there was no doubt as to that; the only thing now was how he could best retrieve his folly. He had walked blindly into a trap, suspecting nothing, confidently relying on his own smartness, believing himself unknown. Now he must find his way out. It angered him to realize how easily it had been accomplished; not so much as a blow struck; no opportunity even for him to cry out an alarm--only that dark cabin, and the threatening revolver shoved against his cheek. He wondered where McAdams was; perhaps hunting him even then on the pier; and Sexton, what had he succeeded in discovering out at Fairlawn? That Natalie Coolidge had returned home, no doubt. At least he no longer believed she was with this yachting party--evidently there was but one woman on board. Yet, whether she was there or not, it was clear enough from what he had heard that this sudden voyage of the _Seminole_ had some direct connection with the mystery he was endeavouring to solve. That was why he had been decoyed aboard, and made prisoner--to keep him silent; to get him securely out of the way. Yet this knowledge revealed nothing as to what their real purpose was.