“Is it Prince Marcos?” he called out cautiously. “Say ‘Yes’ if it is. I am a friend of his.” “Yes.” “I thought so. That was Prince Miguel talking to you just now, was it not?” “Who are you?” was the noncommittal rejoinder. “I don’t know you--do I?” “You ought to. I am Chickering Carter. My boss is Nicholas Carter. We are both trying to help you get back to Joyalita.” “Of course!” replied Marcos heartily. “I beg your pardon for not knowing your voice at first. Have you got a knife?” “Yes,” answered Chick rather wonderingly. “What can I do with that?” “Use it, when any one comes down to you,” was the reply. “They’re going to have an interview with you soon, according to what I was just told. You will have to do what they tell you, or----” There was a pause, and Chick waited for several seconds before he burst out eagerly: “Well, go on. I have to do as I am told, or--what?” “You’ll have to fight your way out, and I have always thought a knife was the best kind of weapon to use for that purpose,” replied Marcos coolly. CHAPTER VIII. A WATCHFUL ENEMY. “How have they got you?” asked Chick, after a short silence. “Could we not make a break to get out together?” “If we could get this door down between us, we might,” answered Marcos. “It doesn’t look so very strong. But I can’t find any lock. Are there bolts on your side?” “No. I can’t find anything that feels like a fastening,” replied Chick. “Wait a moment! Here’s something. I see! The door is nailed shut. There are four or five spikes hammered in around the door. If I had a good stout clawhammer----” “Sorry I can’t help you,” came from Marcos, together with the faint odor of a cigarette. “I don’t usually carry a clawhammer as part of my equipment. Unfortunately, I haven’t anything that might take its place--not even a knife.” The word “knife” gave Chick an idea. He had a jackknife, in the handle of which were many useful tools. There was no regular nail puller, but one of the implements in the handle was a small pair of highly tempered steel pliers, with serrated edges. They could be used for pulling nails of ordinary size. The nails holding the door were very large and heavy. Indeed, they were, as Chick had called them, spikes, rather than nails. “I’ll try what I can do,” announced Chick, through the hole in the wall. “I’ve got a pair of pincers that may do the work, because the wood is so rotten. But I’m not sure.” “If I can help at all, by kicking the door, or throwing my weight against it, you can command me,” observed Marcos. “We have to get out of this place to-night somehow. I am so confident that your chief, Carter, will do it, if we don’t release ourselves, that actually I am not particularly worried.” “You are the real goods,” exclaimed Chick admiringly. “I’m going to help you, and I believe we’ll make it. If we don’t, then you can bet on Nick Carter. Here goes for the spikes!”