It was a sharp tussle, but there were few men who could overcome Nick Carter in a wrestling match, either impromptu or otherwise.
While the trembling girl watched the fierce, but almost silent, combat, her escort gradually made his adversary give way. At last Nick got the other man where he wanted him.
“Had enough?” asked the detective.
“No! Curse you! I’ll——”
The tall stranger never finished the sentence. With a sudden heave, Nick Carter swung him clear off his feet and threw him high in the air, helpless and kicking.
“Oh!” cried the girl, half in terror and half in admiration of the strength and activity of her champion.
Nick Carter’s blood was up now, and he determined to finish the job in a thorough manner.
Exerting all his strength, he flung Prince Miguel bodily to the floor. The prince fell like a bag of sawdust, and with no more animation.
His head struck against the wall, and as he fell sprawling across the body of the unconscious Don Solado, there were the two of them dead to the world.
The girl covered her face with her hands. For a few moments she saw nothing. When she looked up again, Nick Carter was calmly adjusting his mask, which had slipped slightly to one side.