"Keep that car in sight; but do not pass it!"
"Trust me, sir," said the hackman, with a knowing wink.
When his fare stepped out of the cab, at the corner of Kneeland and Washington streets, the driver nearly lost his balance from the shock.
A lively-looking chap got into the cab in Dorchester, and a staid-looking clergyman paid him his fare in Washington street.
The Cuban had left the street car at the next block, and Nick hurried after him on foot.
The man entered the United States Hotel, and immediately went to the office.
Nick Carter was close at his elbow.
"Any letters or telegrams for Gonzales?" inquired the Cuban.
"Yes, sir. One telegram," said the clerk, who handed it to him.[Pg 25]
He tore open the envelope and began to read the dispatch.