CHAPTER IX.
RASCALITY TRICKED.
“Aha! You didn’t get away, after all, did you?” was the fellow’s triumphant shout, as he turned the light of his flash light full upon the detective’s face. “It’s no use, Marcos! You may have things your own way in Joyalita, but you can’t do it here.”
He tried to drag Nick into the boat. But the light craft had not the steadiness of the launch, and it was evident that if he persisted, there must inevitably be an upset.
“Get in, Marcos!” growled the man. “You can help if you will. No matter what happens, you are better off in the boat than swimming around in that cold river.”
“Think so?” jeered Nick.
“Why, yes. Even if you swim to shore, we shall be by your side and catch you as you come out of the water.”
“What would be the use of my going with you to the yacht?” demanded Nick. “You would keep me there, and you know I have to be in Joyalita on the eighteenth.”
The gruff man gave vent to a loud guffaw.
“That’s just what we don’t want,” he returned. “We are going to keep you till the eighteenth is past. But come on! You may as well argue in the boat as in the water. Better, I should say. It will be more comfortable for you.”
Nick Carter acquiesced in this opinion. He saw that he had been mistaken for Prince Marcos, and it occurred to him that it would be well to keep up the deception for a short time—at least till Marcos had got away for his own country.