After that he would let these scoundrels know who he was, and enjoy a laugh at their discomfiture.
“Give me your hand!” he called out.
The other man clutched him firmly by the hand and wrist. With a spring, Nick Carter raised himself in the water, and landed in the boat, neck and heels, but without capsizing.
The detective had noticed that Marcos’ clothes were a dark business suit, so much like his own that only a very close observer would detect the difference.
When they were soaked in water, it would be impossible to tell one from the other unless the observer were very familiar with the pattern and cut of both.
“Well, Marcos!” began the gruff man, as the oarsman turned the boat around, with the assistance of the sailor who was steering, “I hope you are convinced that it is useless for you to try and get away from us.”
“I nearly did it that time,” rejoined Nick.
“Not at all. You came near to being drowned. That’s all. If that fellow, whoever he was, hadn’t seen you struggling in the water and gone after you, there would have been an end of Prince Marcos, and the people in Joyalita never would have known what had become of you.”
“You wouldn’t want that, would you?” asked Nick.
“Oh, I don’t know that it would have been so very bad for me,” was the slow reply. “I wouldn’t kill you, of course. I am not an assassin. But if you were to die accidentally, who would be the heir to the throne but your humble servant and cousin, Prince Miguel?”