Nick Carter did not reply. They were by the side of the yacht now, for the distance back had been much less than that covered in rowing from it, when a large curve had been described in the river. Several men were on deck, and there were half a dozen lights flitting about. Down one side of the yacht to the water was a short ladder--brass mounted and finely finished, like everything else about the vessel. “Hello! You got him, then?” A man in ordinary clothing stood at the gangway looking down at the boat. “Yes, Solado!” returned Miguel. “We have him!” “Glad he wasn’t drowned.” Nick Carter was sure he could make out, in the way this was said, that the speaker’s sentiments were just the opposite to those he expressed. “Well, he was nearly drowned,” replied Miguel. “Some stranger went after him with a small boat, and it tipped over. After that the two of them were nearly gone.” “What saved them?” “A launch came along, with a woman in it, and the other man was shoved into it. Marcos was just going to follow when I begged him to come with me. With his usual complaisance, he did what I asked.” The two rascals indulged in a duet of laughter over this. They little thought that the supposed Prince Marcos was enjoying a joke of much finer texture than their own. Once on the yacht, the supposed Marcos was shown into a stateroom, where a man who seemed to be the personal servant of Miguel, or Don Solado, or perhaps of both, pointed respectfully to a complete outfit of clothing lying on the bed and chairs. Nick was glad to see that clean underwear, as well as white shirt, collar, necktie, et cetera, were all included. “The bathroom adjoins, sir, as you know,” said the man softly. “I have prepared the water about as you like it. If it is too hot or cold, and you would like me to change it, will you kindly touch the bell?” “If there are faucets at the bathtub, I can change it myself if necessary. Let me see, your name is----” “Jean, sir!” “Ah, yes! Jean!” repeated the detective. “Well, that is all at present. I will remember the bell if I want you.” “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Jean went out of the stateroom, and Nick Carter heard the key turn in the lock. “Jean is polite--almost servile, in fact,” muttered Nick Carter. “But he does not forget that I’m a prisoner. Well, this is an amusing affair. I never expected it to come out this way. However, so long as Marcos gets back to Joyalita, I guess I can attend to my friends on board the yacht.” He had been taking off his wet clothing while reflecting thus, and now carefully transferred all his personal property to the pockets of the dry suit he intended to put on.