“Of course I know you, Mr. Carter. You sailed with me to the South once for more than a week. I don’t forget any one I’ve once known. What is all this about? I’ll have to tell the captain, you know.” “Say they went away with me,” answered Nick. “I’ll see the captain when he comes to New York next week. I know where he always puts up in town. Good night, Mr. Jarvis.” “Good night, Mr. Carter! Good luck!” returned the worthy second mate. He watched the skiff row away, with Chick at the oars, and then, with a yawn, returned to his bunk. “It’s a funny thing, those two gentlemen going away like this,” he muttered. A moment later he noticed the valet lying along the deck, and in a scandalized tone he ordered one of his men to “wake up that souse there.” They found Jean was not much hurt. When he had been doused with water outwardly, and warmed up within with a serving of grog, he was as good as new, according to the seafaring men who fixed him up. “I’ll go ashore later,” decided Jean. Then he went to bed, regardless, in his still-dazed condition, of what had become of his employer. “Are you going to take these fellows to the Tombs, chief?” asked Chick, as they transferred to the launch and went rushing down the river toward the city, with Nick Carter at the wheel. “Or is it a police station we want?” “Police headquarters,” was Nick’s reply. “I think a little third degree will help matters materially.” “You shall pay for this, Mr. Nicholas Carter!” hissed Don Solado. “That’s what they all say,” returned the detective, with a shrug. THE END. “The Seal of Gijon; or, Nick Carter’s Ice-house Fight,” will be found in the next issue of the NICK CARTER STORIES, No. 137, out April 24th. The further adventures of the great detective with the potentates of Joyalita are given in the forthcoming number. * * * * * Dared for Los Angeles. By ROLAND ASHFORD PHILLIPS. (This interesting story was commenced in No. 134 of NICK CARTER STORIES. Back numbers can always be obtained from your news dealer or the publishers.) CHAPTER XII. THE UNEXPECTED. Elliot Nash was puzzled, the morning following, when Hooker came to the shack and said that Sigsbee wished him to call at his office. Nothing was said concerning the previous night’s adventure, and while Nash was eager for an understanding, he determined to wait until after the interview with the Los Angeles politician. He reached San Fernando at noon, and the local train set him down at the Fifth Street Station, Los Angeles, shortly after one o’clock. After the few months’ absence, the city appealed strongly to the engineer, and he spent all of an hour walking slowly in Broadway, Main, and Spring Streets, looking into the store windows, enjoying the scene of the hurrying throngs of shoppers, and amused or amazed now and then at the volley of questions fired at him by the curious, excited tourists.