<h2 id="XIV">CHAPTER XIV. <br/> <small>WITH THE TIDE.</small></h2>
<p>The look of amazement on the face of Chick, as he
heard this extraordinary statement, as he considered
it, compelled Nick to laugh aloud, bothered as he was
just then.</p>
<p>There was no light in the cab, but they happened to
be passing a lighted restaurant at that moment, and
Nick had a good view of his companion’s face.</p>
<p>“What’s that, chief?” gasped Chick. “Won’t you
say it again?”</p>
<p>“I will if you like. I say, that T. Burton Potter is
so much like the heir to the Milmarsh millions, that
I cannot think they are not the same person.”</p>
<p>“But—but—this Potter is a crook!” protested
Chick.</p>
<p>“That is what makes the case so difficult to handle,”
replied Nick. “If Potter were an honest, reputable
member of society, I should not have to proceed so
carefully. As it is——”</p>
<p>He did not finish the sentence. He felt that it was
not necessary. He leaned back in the taxi, and not another
word was spoken by either until the cab had
been run upon the ferryboat. Then the chief remarked
that the smell of horses was rather strong,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</SPAN></span>
and that they might as well go to the front of the
boat to get the night air on the wide river.</p>
<p>They got out of the cab, Nick telling the taxi
driver they would get in again before the ferryboat tied
up in her slip, and walked to the front of the deck on
the men’s side, where Nick could continue to smoke his
cigar without breaking rules.</p>
<p>Having looked about him, to make sure there were
no eavesdroppers, he explained to his assistant how it
was this case interested him so much.</p>
<p>“You know, Chick, that when we left Maple, and
after we had pretty well combed out all the camps
in that part of the country, to make sure neither Andrew
Lampton nor Howard Milmarsh were in any of
them, we came to the conclusion that they must have
made their way East.”</p>
<p>“It was you came to the conclusion—not I,” corrected
Chick. “I did not decide anything.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s of no consequence. Anyhow, it turned
out that I was right, for Andrew Lampton was traced
by the police to New York, where he then disappeared,
and I believe I saw Howard Milmarsh to-night in the
person of T. Burton Potter.”</p>
<p>“That’s a hard thing to get through my head,” confessed
Chick.</p>
<p>“I don’t wonder. But I had a good view of Potter,
and every lineament was that of Howard Milmarsh.
His hair was the same color, the expression
of the eyes was the same, and there was a certain poise
to his head that I had never seen except in Howard.
I did not hear his voice, but no doubt that would only
have confirmed my belief that he was the son of my
old friend, Howard Milmarsh the elder, whose business,
estate, and millions of dollars are seeking their
rightful heir.”</p>
<p>“There is somebody else after the estate, isn’t
there?”</p>
<p>“Yes. That is why I do not feel at liberty to waste<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</SPAN></span>
time over this case,” replied the chief gravely. “If
we do not find Howard Milmarsh, then Thomas Jarvis,
the father of Richard Jarvis—the man Howard
believes he killed—will probably claim everything. He
is the heir at law if Howard cannot be found.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t there anybody else besides that fellow?”</p>
<p>“No. He is the only member of the family known
to be living. I understand he will put in a claim—although
he is related to the Milmarshes only by marriage,
and has no blood connection. I have never
seen this Thomas Jarvis. But I <em>know</em> something
about him.”</p>
<p>“Well, we don’t have to think about him, chief, do
we, if you are sure this man Potter is Howard Milmarsh?
And even if he were not the man, we saw
Howard in Maple—or at least, you did—and he is
still on earth in some shape or other.”</p>
<p>The ferryboat had been skimming across the North
River in the darkness, and was rapidly approaching
the Manhattan line of shore, with the masses of
twinkling lights in the many skyscrapers, and the occasional
sound of bells, whistles, and other signals
warning craft to be careful as they approached the
wharves.</p>
<p>“There’s the green and red lights of our slip not far
ahead,” remarked Chick. “But we don’t have to get
back to the taxi till we are right in. Are we going
right home?”</p>
<p>“Yes. I want to refer to some memoranda I have
there, and I can telephone more conveniently from my
own library than anywhere else. We’ll go home
and——”</p>
<p>Nick broke off suddenly and ran to the middle of
the wagonway on the boat.</p>
<p>For an instant he seemed inclined to leap over the
gates, so that he could see better whatever it was that
had caught his eye, and which had made him oblivious
of all else?</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>Chick was by the detective’s side, and both were
staring at the dark river in front of them, but somewhat
to starboard.</p>
<p>What they saw was startling enough to warrant
the interest of Nick Carter—a man who seldom allowed
himself to become excited, or he would have
been so now.</p>
<p>A rowboat—a yawl—was moving swiftly toward
the Manhattan shore, propelled by two men, and helped
along considerably by the outgoing tide.</p>
<p>The tide caught them in such a way that, while it
forced them downstream to some degree, also took
them across the river, and soon would put the boat
among the tangle of piles supporting some of the big
wharves below the ferry slip.</p>
<p>The two men were T. Burton Potter and—Patsy
Garvan.</p>
<p>“Thunder and lightning!” burst out from Chick.
“How did Patsy get him? Say, chief, he’s beaten
both of us!”</p>
<p>“All the better!” responded Nick. “I don’t care
who gets Potter so long as we have him at last.”</p>
<p>“What are we to do now?”</p>
<p>“Trust to Patsy,” was the chief’s reply. “What else
can we do?”</p>
<p>Chick nodded. As the chief had said, what else
could they do?</p>
<p>“We couldn’t jump off this boat, Chick. And if we
did, it would not help us at all. Patsy is sure to have
some plan in his mind. It isn’t likely Potter knows
who is in the boat with him, and I think we can depend
on the shrewdness of Patsy.”</p>
<p>“I believe that, too,” mumbled Chick. “But I envy
him his luck. I wish I were in that boat, instead of
him.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be jealous,” laughed the detective. “You
should be above that. Patsy deserves all he has, for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</SPAN></span>
he must have exercised judgment to have brought
about what we see—the fellow we want so badly. T.
Burton Potter, sitting there and rowing himself
straight into the arms of the police.”</p>
<p>“I hope that will happen,” responded Chick. “The
boat is out of sight now, for we are in the slip. We
may as well get into our taxi. But I certainly have
had beastly luck this night.”</p>
<p>“You’ve had plenty of experience, at least, Chick,”
laughed his employer.</p>
<p>It did not take long for the taxi to run up to the
detective’s home. In less than half an hour from the
time they saw Patsy in the yawl with Potter, Carter
was in his usual seat behind his big table, reading a
short telephone message which had come about an
hour before, and which the butler, who knew a great
deal of the detective’s business, had taken and left
for him, in the shape of a written note, on his table.</p>
<p>The note read, in the words that had come over the
wire:</p>
<p>“This is Patsy. Have man. More later. Just coming
over from Jersey City to New York.”</p>
<p>Nick read the memorandum two or three times,
considering as he did so. Then a slight smile broke
over his thoughtful countenance, as he looked at Chick
and murmured:</p>
<p>“Patsy must have got to a telephone just before he
entered the boat with Potter.”</p>
<p>“But how the dickens did he get into a boat with
Potter?” asked Chick, in a puzzled tone.</p>
<p>“My theory is that Patsy traced Potter down to the
river in some way, saw that he wanted a boat to get
across without having to take the ferry, and quickly
took advantage of the situation.”</p>
<p>“Patsy is smart enough to do that,” admitted Chick.</p>
<p>“Of course he is. He knows everybody along the
river front. It wouldn’t be much of a feat for him to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</SPAN></span>
get possession of a yawl and pretend to Potter that
he was the owner.”</p>
<p>“By George! That’s what it looks like!”</p>
<p>“It does. But we don’t know till we hear from
Patsy.”</p>
<p>“There doesn’t seem to be any way to get hold of
Patsy. I suppose we shall have to wait,” remarked
Chick. “We ought to be doing something in the meantime,
I should think. What do you intend to do until
Patsy comes or lets us know?”</p>
<p>“Well, I think our best proceeding would be to have
the butler bring us up a sandwich or two and some
good coffee. If you’re not hungry, I am,” replied
the chief, with a smile.</p>
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