“Mother,” he said, to the elder woman, “we will be at the foot of West Twenty-third Street in something more than an hour; that is to say, in exactly forty-eight hours since we parted with the Shadow.”
“Yes, Maxwell,” she replied. “Well?”
“I was about to suggest this: An hour more or less now won’t cut much ice in this affair we’ve got on hand, will it?”
“I don’t know exactly what you mean, Maxwell; but go on.”
“I want you and Cora to remain on board when we land; see?”
“You don’t wish us to go ashore? Really, Maxwell, I feel as if I must——”
“I don’t want you to go ashore—either of you—until after we have seen and talked with Nick Carter. Just the very first moment when I can leave the yacht I will do so, and I will get him over the telephone and ask him to come to us; and we won’t any of us say a blessed word about anything that has happened on this cruise, until after we have seen and talked with him. Is that agreeable?”
“Why, yes, I suppose so.”
“I have given orders to Manning to that effect. And now, with that understanding, I’ll have myself put ashore the first moment possible. In the meantime, if anybody should happen to come out to the yacht, you will not receive them?”
“Certainly not.”