“I do depend on you,” she declared gratefully. “But what are we to do?”
“I am going out of this room, and you are coming with me,” returned the detective promptly.
They went out of the ballroom just as another dance began, passing through several of the carpeted corridors, which were generally used by ballroom guests for promenade.
Nothing was to be seen of the two Indian princes until they reached the end of one corridor and turned a corner into a narrower one.
As they did this, the two men stepped out of a doorway directly in their path.
With a half scream the girl stepped behind Nick Carter, still holding his arm for protection.
“Pardon me!” said the shorter man of the pair, in a somewhat truculent tone. “I should like to have a word with you.”
“With me? Why, my dear sir, I don’t believe I know you,” responded Nick carelessly.
“We have no time for joking, your highness,” retorted the man, in a thick, angry voice. “Prince Miguel and I have been trying to get to you for several days. We found out, at a costumer’s, this afternoon, that you would be at this ball to-night.”
“Once more, let me ask, who are you?” was Nick Carter’s rejoinder. “I don’t know that you have any reason to be interested in my doings or whereabouts.”