“What about your baggage? Do you want me to give orders about it?”
“No,” was Rayne’s reply. “I’ve no time to bother about that. I can borrow anything I need from some of the officers on the ship. Pajamas are about all I should want till I get to New York. It is easy to buy things there. Is my automobile ready?”
“I’ll have it at the front door by the time we get there,” answered Morlein, as he took up the telephone receiver again.
“Very well. You might come down to the ship with me, Morlein.”
“All right!”
An hour later, John Garrison Rayne was sitting in his comfortable suite on board the modern and well-equipped steamer, Spangled Star, as it skimmed out of San Juan harbor on its way to the Atlantic.
“Well, it is rather a relief to get away from San Juan,” he muttered, with a grim smile. “There are people there I don’t much like.”
CHAPTER X.
NICK CARTER SMELLS A RAT.