Captain Sparkle, Pirate
OR
A HARD MAN TO CATCH
By
NICHOLAS CARTER
Author of “The Boulevard Mutes,” “A Hunter of Men,”
“In Search of Himself,” etc.
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1905
By STREET & SMITH
Captain Sparkle, Pirate
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreignlanguages, including the Scandinavian.
Printed in the U. S. A.
CAPTAIN SPARKLE, PIRATE.
CHAPTER I.
CAPTAIN SPARKLE, THE PIRATE CHIEF.
“Mr. Maxwell Kane!”
The announcement was made by Nick Carter’s valet,Joseph, who threw open the door of his master’s studywith a gesture as nearly approaching a flourish as anyin which he ever permitted himself to indulge. Josephhad a wholesome respect for millionaires, and many aone of them came at one time and another to the detectivefor consultation; but it was rarely that Josephadmitted such a one as Maxwell Kane.
It was a name which was an open sesame at alldoors, however exclusive; it was the name of a manwho counted his millions by hundreds—of a man who,notwithstanding his great wealth, still found time to bea good fellow; of an athlete, a sportsman—in short, andin a word, a gentleman.
It was also the name of a man whom Nick Cartercounted among his personal and intimate friends; butJoseph was not aware of that fact when he threw openthe door and announced the caller. He had taken thecard to his master a moment before, in his study, and[6]had been directed to “show the gentleman here, Joseph”;and Joseph knew that only persons who were privileged,indeed, were ever permitted to penetrate to Nick Carter’sstudy.
Nick wore his house-coat, a short smoking-jacket, andhad been engaged in consuming his after-breakfast cigarwhile he read the papers, when the caller was announced.
“Hello, Nick!” was the greeting he received fromKane. “I got up before breakfast this morning; as youwill observe. What time is it, anyhow?” he added, ashe dropped into a chair which the detective indicatedto him, and pulled out his watch. “Not yet eight o’clock,eh? Have you had your breakfast?”
“An hour ago,” replied the detective.
“Have you got anything doing to-day?”
“No; I was just congratulating myself that I had not.All my assistants are out, however, so I can hardly callmyself care free. I never am, you know.”
“Yes, I know. Say, old chap, the Goalong”—he referredto his palatial steam-yacht—“is lying at the dock,over at the foot of West Twenty-third Street, waitingfor us, and I want you to go aboard with me. Willyou?”
“I’d like to do so, Kane,” replied the detective; “butthere ar