She hesitated, but the detective knew she would do as he had suggested.
CHAPTER II.
WHAT NICK FOUND IN HIS SLEEVE.
“Do you realize that, if Solado and Miguel believe you to be Prince Marcos, your own life may be in danger—even in this ballroom?” asked the girl.
“I don’t think it will.”
“Why should you trouble yourself about something in which you have no interest?” she persisted.
“Who says I have no interest in it?” was his rejoinder. “Since I find myself in this affair, I should like to see it through. You do not know me, but I assure you it will give me pleasure to help you, if I can. There is one thing I can tell you, and that is that Prince Marcos is probably in the uniform of a Spanish colonel. That was what I ordered, and if I have his dress, most likely he has mine. Corliston’s have mixed it up, that’s all.”
“It seems likely,” she murmured.
“More than likely. Will you come?”
“Yes. I must tell Marcos that Solado is here. But you must not go in that costume.”
Nick Carter had already readjusted the black mask over his face, but the girl could tell, from the set of the firm chin, that this man, a stranger to her, was determined to have his way.