He was staring hard at the two passengers in Nick Carter’s boat—two men who wore handcuffs on their wrists—and a quick look of recognition had passed back to him.
“What?” growled the man at the wheel, Larry Dugan. “What’s biting yer, Pet?”
“Look!”
All three of the men in the launch gazed at the two handcuffed men, and all three expressed their astonishment in low grunts.
“Get ’em!” whispered the man behind the steersman—he of the deep-set, cunning eyes. “We’ve got to do it!”
It was just as this was said that the collision came.
The launch coming across the river headed straight for the middle of the other. Only because Nick Carter swung his wheel around, thus receiving a glancing blow, instead of one head-on, was his boat saved from being cut in two.
As it was, the two launches hung motionless for a moment, as two men might before they fell after receiving a mortal blow.
Then, as Nick gave another quick turn to his wheel, and at the same time opened the throttle, he slid past the other launch and was free, in the open water.
It was only for a moment, however.