Reginald appeared in a moment and stood looking vacantly around him in search of a familiar face, but, seeing none, was about to return to his friends when Nick touched him on the shoulder.
Reginald Danton wheeled instantly and confronted Nick. A frown appeared on his face, and was then succeeded by a smile, for, after all, he thought, this stranger might be the person who had sent for him.
“You wish to speak to me?” asked Reginald.
“Yes,” replied Nick, in his natural tones, although in a low voice. “Tut-tut, Danton, don’t look so surprised. You recognize my voice, of course.”
“Yes; but it is the only thing about you that I do recognize,” said Danton.
“Naturally, since it is all I wished you to do. But stroll with me through the corridor for a moment. I want to talk to you.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
UP AGAINST IT IN EITHER CASE.
“I was never so astonished in my life,” said Danton, as they walked arm in arm together along the hotel corridor. “Of course, I have heard that you could step up and hold conversations with your best friends without once giving them a chance to recognize you, but I never believed it, you know. I always thought that sort of thing was what the boys call ‘Sherlock-Holmesing,’ don’t you know. Very pleasant to read about, but not an element of real life. Just speak again, won’t you, for I am not sure yet that you are really Nick Carter; I’m not, really.”
“I’m not Nick Carter, Danton—at least, not for the present. I am the Marquis de St. Cyr. At least, that is the name by which I have registered on the books of the hotel.”
“And why, may I ask?”