Read Ebook: Nick Carter Stories No. 137 April 24 1915: The Seal of Gijon; Or Nick Carter's Ice-House Fight by Carter Nicholas House Name Phillips Roland Ashford

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 855 lines and 37097 words, and 18 pages

Only the fact that Nick had been hampered by his position at the wheel and the levers of the engine had enabled the rascals to be successful.

It was impossible for the detectives to move quickly--even if it had been safe to leave the launch to its own devices. He was obliged to keep his hand on the steering wheel, and to see that the engine was not running wild.

Larry Dugan, Foxey, and Pet all understood this, and they had taken instant advantage of the odds in their favor.

Pulling the two prisoners from one boat to the other, they had allowed them to lie down in the bottom, while Dugan, with a skill equal to Nick Carter's own, had sent his launch full speed toward the wharves and tangle of shipping that one always sees on the water front of Yonkers.

It was the multitude of craft of all kinds hiding the wharves that gave the three thugs their advantage.

Larry Dugan was unusually skillful in handling the launch, and he had a long start of Nick Carter before the latter could get his launch around, headed for shore.

It was broad daylight, but there was a bone-racking fog on the river, and it hid the escaping boat even as it plunged in among the anchored shipping and big lumber barges that stretched for a quarter of a mile, at least.

"They can't be far away," said Nick, as he pushed his launch along. "Keep a bright lookout, Chick!"

"All right!"

But the rascals knew this part of the river and the peculiarities of the water front of Yonkers as well as did Nick Carter, and they got clear away.

The fog helped them materially. They might never have dodged the pursuing boat otherwise.

The detective also knew Yonkers. But, because he did know it, he was quite aware that it would not be so very difficult for Larry Dugan to elude him, especially with the fog to help.

"They've beaten us, chief!" grumbled Chick, a quarter of an hour later. "They've gone along inside this line of barges and shot out at the end. While we have been poking about here, they've headed down the river."

"I think you're right, Chick," conceded Nick. "They'd hardly go up the river, of course. Well, we'll go down, too. We've lost our prisoners, but I don't care so much for that if they don't get hold of Prince Marcos."

"What is all this about Prince Marcos?" asked Chick. "I don't think I have ever got the story straight, in spite of all I've heard."

"It can be told in a few words," answered Nick. "Prince Marcos is the hereditary ruler of Joyalita, a small monarchy near the Caribbean Sea. He is a decent fellow, from all I've seen of him."

"Yes, I understand that," was Chick's quiet comment.

"Well, there is a party of grafters in Joyalita who would like the country, such as it is, to be annexed to another one adjoining. That would probably throw Prince Marcos out, and his Cousin Miguel who has just got away from us on that boat, would be made provisional ruler."

"I see. Miguel would get Marcos' job. But what is this about Marcos wanting to get home by the eighteenth?"

"If he gets to Joyalita on or before that date, he will be able to use his power to prevent the annexation."

"No. As head of the country and government, he won't have to vote. His word controls the situation."

"What they call a royal prerogative in Europe, eh?"

"Yes."

"And this other citizen in the handcuffs, Don Solado--where does he come in?"

"He is prime minister, and he is on the side of Miguel."

"It's all clear enough to me now," remarked Chick. "Don Solado and Miguel are trying to hold Marcos here till it will be too late for him to stop this big grafting annexation?"

"Exactly! We shall have to work like Trojans now to enable Marcos to win. I've pledged myself to do it, however, and we shall have to manage it, somehow," was Nick Carter's steady conclusion, as he turned the launch downstream. "We have Larry Dugan and his crowd against us, as well as Solado and Miguel. That will make it harder. But we can beat the gang if we stick to it."

"We'll stick to it, all right!" responded Chick, with that determined note in his voice which his chief knew meant business.

"That's what I like to hear, Chick. It won't be an easy task, but we have simply got to get Prince Marcos to Joyalita by the eighteenth of this month."

"You bet!" added Chick.

SECRET FOES AT WORK.

In spite of the sharp lookout maintained by Nick Carter and his assistant for the launch with the five rascals in it all the way down to that upper part of Manhattan Island where New York City has reached only to give certain favored persons semirural homes, they saw nothing of the evil-faced Larry Dugan and his companions.

"There's Crownledge," pointed out Chick, as they came opposite the handsome house, in its own grounds, which Marcos and his mother had taken for a temporary residence.

The launch ran up to the landing, and Nick Carter, leaving his assistant to take care of the boat, went into the house.

He was met at the door by Claudia Solado, Marcos' cousin. The girl was delighted to see the detective.

"Mr. Carter, I am so glad you have come," she said, as she put her soft hand into his. "Marcos wants to start for Joyalita at once, and, really, he is not well enough. After all he passed through in escaping from Prince Miguel and my uncle, and being so nearly drowned, he is weak and feverish. I am sure that if he will stay in the house until to-morrow morning, he will be so much better that there will be no danger."

"You have not seen Don Solado, your uncle, or Prince Miguel, near Crownledge this morning, have you?" he asked.

"No. The last I saw of them was when you saved Marcos from drowning and allowed those two men to capture you to save him."

"That didn't hurt me much, you see," laughed Nick Carter. "They seemed to think they could hold me on that hired yacht of theirs up the river. But I got the better of them. If I had not, probably I should not be here now."

"Where are they?"

"I don't know. But so long as they are not bothering Marcos, I don't think we need care. Where is the prince?"

"In the library."

"May I see him?"

"Of course. He is anxious for you to go in. He saw you through the window, coming up from the river."

Marcos was a well-built, robust young man at ordinary times. But he did not look robust just now. His face was pale and his movements lacked their usual resiliency.

Notwithstanding all this, his resemblance to Nick Carter was startling. The features were alike, and even the poise of the head, the set of the shoulders, and the general attitude, were identical.

"This is a pleasure, Mr. Carter!"

As Prince Marcos said this, the girl actually looked closely at her cousin to make sure that he was speaking, and not the detective.

"Glad to see you are all right, sir," returned Carter. "You'll pardon my not calling you 'your highness,' will you not? In the first place, I do not think it would be wise for you to use your title while in New York, and then again I must confess it is much easier to me to speak as if you were an ordinary American or Englishman."

"Quite right, my dear Carter!" returned Marcos heartily. "I wish you would address me as plain Mr. Joyal. That will suggest my country to me, and the name does not smell of royalty, does it?"

He asked this with a na?vet? that pleased the detective. There was no nonsense about Marcos.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet