“We’ll prove who I am by the chief of police of San Juan,” interrupted Nick sharply. “But there is no time to argue longer about that. I’ll send my men ashore, and I dare say they will round up this man. He seems to have fooled you completely.” “There ain’t nobody can fool me!” grunted the captain indignantly. “Chick!” called out Nick, turning his back on the wrathful Lawton. “You and Patsy go and see the chief of police, give him my compliments, and tell him to look out for this man. Most likely the rascal will try to get out of town right away.” “Who are we to look for?” asked Chick. “The Apache.” “Who’s that?” asked the captain. “Gee! You don’t want to get in his way. That’s all!” grinned Patsy. “He’d steal the ship from under you while you was giving orders to stop him.” Patsy said this with so much earnestness, even though he grinned, that Captain Lawton was visibly impressed, while Nick Carter frowned at his irrepressible assistant. “You don’t want me to tell the chief of police why we want the Apache, do you?” whispered Chick in Nick Carter’s ear. “No. Let him think it is a smuggling case. Anyhow, he won’t ask too many questions if you tell him it is my case. He knows me.” “What’s his name? Douglas, isn’t it?” “Yes. He knows you as well as me.” By this time Captain Lawton had come to the conclusion that it was the real Nick Carter who stood before him, and he desired to give so eminent a crime detector all the aid he could. But it never entered his head that this well-groomed man could be the sloppy-looking Joe Sykes, who had sailed in the _Cherokee_ as a boatswain. “This man who took the jewelry was about the same height as yourself, Mr. Carter,” he volunteered. “He wore a blue suit of clothes, that didn’t fit any too well, and his cap had a gold band around it, as if he might be an officer of some kind.” “Thank you,” responded Nick. “I dare say we shall get him before we are much older. But we’ll talk more about that after I’ve got my men here away.” “All right, Mr. Carter! Anything you say.” “Look here, Chick!” “Well, chief?” “When you have finished your work--seen the chief of police, and made any inquiries you can, come to the Ionic Hotel. I’ll go there when I get through on the ship. Now hustle, boys!” “All right!” grinned Patsy. “We’ll round up this citizen we’re after before he knows whether he’s afloat or ashore. Eh, Chick?” “We’ll do our best,” was Chick’s earnest response. The two assistants went down the ladder, and Nick Carter leaned over the side of the steamer, watching them make good time to the shore. Even when the motor boat had almost covered the expanse of water between the _Cherokee_ and the wharf, the detective remained in the same position. He was reflecting. He had the faculty of being able to do that anywhere, even with all kinds of confusion around him.