“We shan’t break down,” returned Nick. “I looked the car over too closely the last time we had to stop for tire trouble and stripped gears. She’s as sound as a bell now.”
“Of course she is,” put in Chick. “What makes you talk about breaking down, Patsy? You know we couldn’t afford it now.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” rejoined Patsy; “if we did break down, we’d have to commandeer another car in this country, and perhaps have a scrap before we got what we wanted. I’m getting stiff for lack of exercise.”
There was no answer to this. Nick Carter and Chick both smiled at the truculence of Patsy Garvan. They knew he meant what he said, but they did not desire his wishes to be fulfilled, nevertheless.
Phillips came out with a traveling bag and big coat belonging to Marcos, stowed them in the back of the car, and got in himself.
“Didn’t see anything of the watch, I suppose, Phillips?” asked Nick, in a low tone.
“No, sir,” replied Phillips, shaking his head. “The Seal of Gijon is in Penza, I have no doubt. We will get it when we are there.”
“You are right, Phillips,” said Nick Carter sternly. “We will get it. What had Mala to say for himself?”
“I didn’t see him, sir. No one seems to be in the hotel at all. Or, if there are people about, they are keeping out of sight.”
Nick nodded, and started the car. Then he stopped and put on the heavy coat Phillips had just brought out. He had a soft cap—an extra one that was in his baggage—which he pulled over his eyes. The other had been lost. He drew on a pair of gloves, and once more touched the electric starter.