“Go with me?” echoed Nick Carter. “I’m afraid that would be impossible. You could not run into the danger that may face me when I come up with the rascals who so nearly killed poor Phillips. You can see from that how desperate they are.” “Nevertheless, I must go,” returned Claudia, with gentle firmness. “It would be altogether too dangerous.” “I expect it to be dangerous. That is why I want to come.” This was unanswerable, although Nick tried to answer it. He soon saw that he might as well spare his breath. With a shrug and smile, he turned to his assistant. “Well, Chick, keep close watch here, and take care of Phillips. Miss Solado intends to go with me, and there is nothing much to be said. I will go down to the boathouses and see whether I can get a power launch. Will you wait here till I return?” he asked the girl. “I shall not be long. I’ll go down in the motor car.” “I will wait,” she answered quietly. A few minutes later Nick Carter was in his limousine, and Danny Maloney was bowling him along Broadway to the place where the detective knew he could hire a launch. “Joe Travers will have one, I know,” he told himself, as he leaned back comfortably, while Maloney drove on with his usual unconcern. Joe Travers was an old acquaintance of Nick’s, and he was only too pleased to take the detective into his boathouse and show him where he had, under shelter, a power launch which proclaimed itself at first glance a fine specimen of its class. It was about five o’clock when Nick Carter chugged up to the boat landing of Crownledge and fastened his craft to the big iron ring. Before he could get up to the house, Claudia came running down to the riverside, with Chick and the bloodhound close behind. Chick was glad of the opportunity of helping the pretty girl into the boat. Soon she was comfortably seated in the stern. Then Nick again took his place at the engine and steering wheel. “Look after Phillips, Chick! When he seems able to take care of himself, as he will by the morning, I feel sure--you can go home, with Captain, and keep close to the telephone. I may call you up at any time.” The engine in the launch was a powerful one, and the boat went shooting up the Hudson as if prepared to overhaul any other craft that might come in its way. “Do you think we shall find Marcos, Mr. Carter?” asked Claudia, after a rather long silence, broken only by the chugging of the engine and the swish of the water past the hull. “Have you any idea where he is likely to be?” “I may be mistaken,” replied Nick. “But I can’t help feeling that we shall get on his trail before morning.” And, as he hustled the launch along, he believed thoroughly what he said. CHAPTER VII. ON THE BRINK OF BATTLE. “There’s a light across the river, in the shadow of the Palisades,” remarked the girl, when they had gone several more miles. “It is some boat, or ship, of course. Might not that be the yacht?”