"Then I am going to fight in her cause to the very end of things. You cannot frighten me; your only chance to influence my action is to make things clear. I confess I have been fighting in the dark, not even comprehending your purpose. I do know that the main stake your gang is after is the Coolidge fortune; that, in order to get hold of it, you are obliged to keep control over Miss Natalie. But I can conceive no reason why she should assist in the conspiracy. She certainly cannot be benefited by having her own fortune stolen. This is what puzzles me, but it hasn't changed my loyalty to her. I still believe in her, and feel that she is simply a victim of circumstances beyond her control. Am I frank enough?"
"Sure; it all means you intend to remain a blunder-headed fool defending a girl who does not desire any defence—a Don Quixote tilting at wind-mills. That is your choice, is it?"
"Unless you care to explain clearly just how Miss Natalie's interests are being protected."
"Which I am not at liberty to do at present. She is satisfied, and has practically told you so, according to Jim Hobart. If you will not accept her word, there is no use of my saying anything about the matter. Besides, West, frankly I don't give a damn what you think. We've got you safe enough, where you can't do anything, even if you want to—so, why worry? Twenty-four hours more will finish our little job, and, until that time is up, you'll remain right here; after that we don't care where in hell you go, or what you do—the game will have been played."
The man's tone, and air of confidence was impressive; beyond doubt he felt that the cards were all in his hands. West drew in his breath sharply.
"Apparently you are right," he said quietly. "May I ask a question or two?"
"Fire away; I'll answer as I please."
"Who is the woman on board?"
"Mary, you mean? Hobart's wife."
"She came from the place on Wray Street last night in an auto?"