Nick Carter knew that Marcos would have plenty of money for his traveling expenses, and that Claudia Solado would help him in every possible way.
“Whether that young lady is in love with Marcos, or whether it is merely cousinly regard she feels for him, is of no consequence,” he murmured. “The point is that she seems to be entirely devoted to the young man. I hope they won’t be so foolish as to stop long at Crownledge. That is not a safe place for him just now.”
He decided in his own mind that Claudia was too sensible to let her cousin get into a trap again in a hurry.
“She may take him to her own home, on the other side of the river,” he reflected. “Of course Don Solado knows where she lives, but, unless he suspects his niece of helping Marcos, he never would think of looking for him there.”
It was characteristic of the famous detective that he was troubled only about Marcos, and thought little of his own predicament.
One thing was that he knew he was on the Hudson River, in a neighborhood where there was plenty of traffic, both afloat and ashore, especially in daylight. If the worst came, he would be able to attract the attention of somebody on passing craft and get released that way.
There was a good-sized window to his stateroom, overlooking the deck and the water. It was secured by iron bars, so that he could not escape that way, although no doubt the bars had been built in to keep marauders out, instead of the occupant in.
Occasionally he had seen one of the crew pass by. But no one looked in his direction. They had had their orders, no doubt.
It was late now, and for the last ten minutes that he had been sitting by the open window, letting the smoke from his cigar go through, he had not seen anybody.
Neither had there been any sounds in the saloon or the other staterooms. It was clear to Nick that Solado and Miguel had both gone to bed, satisfied that nothing could be done to-night to catch Marcos—if they had any such intention.