“It was at one time, but it hasn’t been used for that purpose lately. Do you see some smoke coming from the chimney at this end?” “By jing! I do! Is there somebody living in there!” “I should say so, if there is a fire in the place. If I am not much mistaken, we shall find certain gentlemen in that building who know me. They may know you, too. That I am not so sure about.” “Do you mean that you think Chick is in there?” asked Patsy, who had been turning things over in his mind. “Is that the idea?” “I don’t know about that. But I do think there may be somebody in the place that I want to find. Of course, I want to find Chick. But I do not fear that he is in trouble. The person I am after is called Prince Marcos----” “What? Is it that Marcos case we’re on?” broke in Patsy. “I thought he’d gone back to his own country, wherever it is. You said so a few days ago. At least, you said he was going.” “That was a week ago,” Nick Carter reminded him. “Before I had anything to do with the case. Now I know better. He is in New York, somewhere, and I have to find him.” “I wish I knew a little more about the case,” grumbled Patsy. “That would make it easier for me to work.” “I don’t know that it would make it any easier,” was Nick Carter’s dry rejoinder. “You know that all I require of you as a rule is to obey orders--unless you are on a case by yourself.” “That’s so,” rejoined Patsy, with a sly grin. “But I’ve heard you say that no rule should be so iron bound that it cannot be twisted when the occasion calls for it. All I would like to know, if you see fit to tell me, is what we are after.” Patsy Garvan was not sure in what way his chief would receive this rebellious protest. He was relieved, therefore, when he saw Nick smile. “I’ll tell you that much,” conceded the detective: “There is a man called Miguel and another named Solado who are trying to prevent Prince Marcos getting back to his own country by the eighteenth. I believe they are holding Marcos in this old ice house.” “And what about Chick?” asked Patsy. “I don’t know.” “Do you think he is in this place, too?” “He may be. We are going to find out.” “That’s the talk,” responded Patsy. “Let’s hurry! How are you going to get in? Knock at the front door?” “Hardly!” said Nick. “You see that window at the top of the building? It is a door, in fact, boarded up.” “Yes.” “And you see the chute from it to the water? That is where they used to draw up the ice when it was brought here in boats. They did not get ice from these salt meadows, of course. But there are fresh-water streams not far away, and the ice was brought from them and stored here, handy to send to Jersey City and Hoboken.” “Well?” asked Patsy. “I am going up that chute.” “You’ll be seen, won’t you?” “Not likely. In the first place, there is a heavy fog, and, secondly, the windows in the living portion of the building are on the other side.” “You seem to know a great deal about this old ice house,” observed Patsy.