“You say your name is Marcos—Prince Marcos?” howled Solado.
“Do I say so? I don’t remember saying anything of the kind. Still, you know me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do know you! Curse you! I thought there was something wrong about you as they brought you on the yacht a little while ago. That’s why I came down here to look at you again, and particularly to hear you speak. Now I know you are an impostor!”
“Who do you think I am, then?” asked Nick.
“I don’t know who you are, except that I believe you are the man who assaulted me at the Hotel Supremacy a few nights ago.”
“You were assaulted there, then?”
The coolness with which the detective asked this question evidently increased the rage of the other, and he snorted inarticulately.
“It was I who assaulted you—most likely,” went on Nick Carter. “I was obliged to teach a lesson to a masked man there, because he attacked me. I am pleased to meet you again, under more peaceful conditions.”
“You’ll find they are not so peaceful, perhaps!”
Don Solado’s tones had risen to a shriek again, and he shook his fist at the quietly smoking detective.