It was all clear to Nick now. He was to be taken aboard the yacht, with Harvey L. Drago and Lord Vinton, and they would put out to sea until the friends of the prisoners had consented to pay the enormous sums which would be demanded through carefully veiled newspaper advertisements.
As to what would be done with him, he could not quite satisfy himself. He knew that Mademoiselle Valeria had shown him, in various subtle ways, that she would have been his friend if he had let her, and he did not think she would go to the extreme of killing him.
“I wouldn’t trust her,â€� he thought. “She could easily give orders to some of those rascals on the yacht to shoot me in my sleep, to poison me, or even to suffocate me with some of that charming gas she used on Lord Vinton—and, doubtless, on Mrs. van Dietrich, too. But—I don’t mean to let them do it. That is where I have something to say.â€�
The two men at the oars were laboring hard, for it was not easy to move such a heavy boatload by two pairs of arms, and Kennedy was sorry the boat had not been rigged so that four men could row, one to each oar.
Nick could not see how near they were to the yacht, but he figured that they would reach it in not many minutes.
“Hello! How are you by this time?� whispered a voice in his ear. “Coming around?�
“It was Harvey L. Drago speaking, and Nick turned his head enough to find that Drago was lying almost by his side, his feet extended opposite to those of the detective.
“Keep quiet,� was Carter’s response, in the lowest of murmurs. “You’ve got your gag out, I see.�
“Of course I have,� was the reply. “Those clumsy bunglers couldn’t tie it on so that it would stay. They may know how to knot a rope, but a handkerchief is out of their line. Got a knife?�
“Yes. Keep quiet,� returned the detective.