“Hello, Patsy!” said Chick feebly.
“Gee! That’s a good sound!” ejaculated Patsy. “All right, chief! I’ll be responsible for these three beauties. Now that I know Chick is all to the good, I could handle two gangs of this size. Trust me!”
Nick hurriedly rowed to the place where he had hired the boat, and, in the comfortable home of the man who owned the place, soon had Chick on his feet again—shaky, but otherwise all right.
“I’ll leave you here to-night, if you like, Chick,” said Nick, after a short conference with the boat owner. “He says he can take care of you until morning. We have to ride on the street car, you know. There won’t be one along for an hour, anyhow.”
“By that time I’ll be fit as a fiddle,” declared Chick. “Let me go with you.”
“Say, chief!” asked Patsy, who was standing guard over the three disgruntled gangsters, in company with Marcos. “What became of those two other guys from Joyalita?”
“I can tell you that,” put in Marcos gravely. “They have got away. They had a motor car here, and when we were occupied in looking after Dugan and his men, and trying to help Mr. Carter find Chick in that warehouse, they took advantage of nobody watching them. That is all. So long as they cannot prevent my reaching Joyalita, I am not particular about going after them. The man Jason must have died in the fire.”
“You shall start for Joyalita in the morning, if you like,” smiled Nick Carter. “It looks as if we have beaten the whole plot against you.”
“Thanks to you, Mr. Carter!”
Prince Marcos held out his hand to the detective, while Dugan, still handcuffed to Foxey Irwin, snorted in angry disgust.