With all this, the speed of the car was its main safeguard. In a few seconds it was entirely out of range, and directly afterward vanished around a bend in the road.
“Glory!” shouted Patsy Garvan. “That’s one for us. Is there any other place where they can lay for us like that, Phillips?”
“No. That is the only part of the road where there would be a chance of ambush,” replied Phillips quietly. “If there is any more attempt to stop us, it must be made out in the open.”
“I don’t think they will dare that,” observed Nick Carter.
He was right. No one interfered with them again, and it was just ten minutes before noon when he marched into the council hall, in the full uniform of Prince Marcos, and placed his veto on the treaty that would have sold Joyalita into the hands of Carita and put Prince Miguel on the throne that belonged to his cousin.
He had already had the Seal of Gijon taken from the rascal who meant to use it to further his own schemes.
When the car rattled up to the palace, there were plenty of people who thought they recognized Marcos, and the cheers with which he was received proved his popularity. At the same time it struck a death knell to the black heart of Miguel.
Phillips was delighted. He led Nick to the prince’s chamber and quickly dressed him in his uniform of state.
When the work of dressing was complete, Phillips stood back, and, with a low bow, murmured:
“Your highness, Prince Marcos! Who can deny it?”