“You have the name correct; there is no reason why I should deny that.  Unfortunately, I do not know with whom I am conversing.”

“Quite easily remedied.  I am Joe Hogan, commonly called ‘Red’ Hogan.  The moniker means nothing to you.”

“I never heard it before.”

“I thought not, which merely proves you are not a ‘fly-cop,’ only a measly busy-body sticking your nose into some one else’s business.  Well, we know how to take care of your kind, and this is likely to prove the last case you’ll dabble in for a while, my man.”

“What does that mean—­a threat?”

“Never mind what it means; it is a straight tip.  Now listen, West—­Captain West I believe is the proper term of address—­and you will understand better.  When I got you in here I had no real knowledge as to who you were.  I merely took a chance on what Mary had to say, and she twigged you at once.  She’s smart, that woman; never forgets a face.  She sure did a good job this time.  But after you were locked in safe, and nobody knew what had happened, and you certainly handled easily enough, I slipped ashore into the restaurant and called up Jim Hobart on the wire.  Did he give me your pedigree?  He did.  Jim was about the happiest guy in the town when he learned we had you bottled.  Raised hell last night, didn’t you?  All right, my friend, you are going to pay the piper today.  What got you into this muss, anyhow?  You are no relation to the Coolidge girl, are you?”

“None whatever; merely a friend.”

“Friend, hey!  Well, she’s a good looker; so this friendship stuff is easily accounted for.  Friend, hell!” he laughed.  “You must have it bad to put on all these stunts for sweet friendship’s sake.  You wouldn’t even quit when she told you to.”

“I believed she was compelled to say what she did to me,” replied West quietly.  “That she was in Hobart’s power, afraid of her life.  There was no other explanation of her strange action possible.”

“Is that so?”

“I am willing to listen to such an explanation, Hogan, and if satisfied she really wishes me to keep out of the affair, I will.”

“And if not?”

“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?”