“No. The prime minister of Joyalita, Don Solado. He came here less than an hour ago. As soon as he had gone, I telephoned you. And, by the way, I must thank you again for coming so quickly. I know what a favor I was asking in suggesting that you touch this case at all.”
“Why didn’t he complain to the hotel management?” asked Nick. “You tell me Prince Miguel discovered his loss soon after midnight on the night of the ball. Why did he wait so long before announcing his loss?”
“I can’t say, Mr. Carter,” returned Mrs. van Raikes, shrugging her shoulders. “These princes and their advisers are not like us. They have their own ways.”
“He does not suspect anybody, you say?”
The lady did not answer for a moment, but stared out of a window across Central Park without seeing anything, apparently.
“The fact is, Mr. Carter, Don Solado does suspect one person—a man with whom he had a few angry words outside the ballroom.”
Nick Carter looked up quickly. He was going to hear something interesting now, he thought.
“What was his name? Does Don Solado know?”
“That is a question I cannot answer. Don Solado did not say so. He only told me the man was dressed as a Mexican. I happen to know that one of my guests, a very important man in his own country, intended to come to the ball in a Mexican costume.”
“And you will not let me know who he was?”