Chapter XLVI: Nick Carter Wounded

When Nick came to his senses, he was lying on a cot in the Brooklyn police headquarters. Around him lay the bodies of several men that had been killed in the riot. Several others who had been slightly wounded were sitting around in chairs, talking about the riot.

At the hospitals were a dozen other officers who had been severely injured.

A citizen had seen the rioting, and had sent word to police headquarters, and the timely arrival of the reserves from several station houses had finally checked the outlawry of the crowd.

Nick remembered having tried to catch Wright, or Weeden, by the throat, and all after that was a blank.

The doctor, after examining Nick, told him that the only injury that he had sustained was a small scalp wound and a general shaking up, but advised that Nick take a rest for a day or two.

Nick laughed, and said that he had business on hand that would prevent his taking a rest of more than an hour.

Nick lay on the cot for a few minutes, thinking of the course that he should pursue.

If by any mischance the man that he had tried to arrest was really Wright, what was his object in attacking the detective, and why had he jeered at Nick as he had?

Was there such a man as Wright?

Nick thought it over, and came to the startling conclusion that the man Wright, Weeden, and the old beggar were one and the same.

It was really a triple identity.

Nick closed his eyes to think.

The voices of the policemen around him were heard.

One of them was asking the other about the wife of the man who had been the cause of the trouble.

“How long did she live?” he asked.

“Only a minute or so.”

“How about Small? Did we finally get him to the station house?” asked an officer whose head was wound with bandages.

“Oh, he was brought to the station house more dead than alive; he was scared to death, almost. He is a fine man to be a member of a ‘bad man gang’! Why, he actually was crying from fright when they got him in the wagon.”

“Then that is the fellow that we have been looking for for some time, is it?”

“Yes, that is the chap. We have wanted him for his connection with the gang that has been terrorizing Astoria for several months.”

Nick pricked up his ears. Here was something that interested him.

“It appears,” continued the officer that had been talking, “that there is a man named Weeden, who is at the head of the gang, but nobody has been able to trace him in anything that savors of rascality, and as he has such a reputation among his neighbors for being honest, the people in charge are afraid to make any move against him, although I think that they would be only too glad to get something on him, as he has been very insolent to the men who have questioned him about the murders that have been committed near his repair shop.”

“Don’t talk too loud,” cautioned the sergeant. “That Manhattan man is in here; they say that he is a crackajack, too. I wonder what case he is working on now?”

“Oh, you mean the man that was talking with the inspector to-day?”

“Yes, that is the one. I have heard some of the men say that it is Nick Carter, the famous detective, but I don’t think that it is he, because I saw him once, while I was working on a case, and this man does not look anything like him at all.”

Nick smiled to himself. The man had once worked with him on a case, and as keen-sighted as he was, he did not penetrate the disguise that Nick wore at the time.

The door of the room opened, and the inspector entered.

As he came into the room, Nick staggered to his feet and looked confusedly around. He appeared as if he had just awakened.

“I see that you are on your feet again,” said the inspector, as he entered the room.

“Oh, yes, I am all right, barring a slight headache,” answered Nick. “I guess I must have had a narrow call at that time, and if it had not been for my usual good luck I would not now be willing to go to work again.”

“I don’t believe that anybody will ever succeed in giving you your quietus,” said the inspector laughingly.

The inspector asked Nick to step into his private office, that they might discuss the case.

The inspector listened to Nick’s story of the affair attentively, and when he had concluded, he said:

“I have heard of the crockery man, Wright, but have never seen him. I shall have to look him up.

“The peculiar part of the thing that puzzles me is the remarkable resemblance of the men, if, indeed, Wright is not Jack Weeden in disguise.

“But, then, all of my officers who saw the man that you tried to get are ready to swear that the man is Wright, and that his reputation is of the best. According to people in the neighborhood, he has been in business but a short time, but during that period he has succeeded in making a number of friends in the locality where he does business.”

“That may all be true,” responded Nick, “but I have seen many curious things in my long experience, and I am not surprised at anything that happens now. I remember a case where the man that I wanted passed among his neighbors for a woman for several years, and it was not until he met with an accident that his identity was discovered.”

“But is it not possible that two men could be in the same locality at the same time?” asked the inspector.

“Yes; but it is hardly likely that both would be dressed alike, even to the style of collar and necktie.”

“Well, we shall find out in a very short time whether it was Weeden or Wright that you saw. I shall send one of my men, and have the crockery man brought before us,” said the inspector.

“That will be an excellent plan, and if we find that it is the man we want, then we will have him right here,” declared Nick.

The inspector touched an electric bell on his desk, and an instant afterward an officer entered.

“I want you to tell Edwards to come here at once,” said the inspector.

“Yes, sir.”

A minute or so afterward, a man entered the room.

He was one of the shrewdest men that the inspector had on his staff.

“Edwards, do you know this man Wright?”

“Yes, sir, I do. I was in his store yesterday, buying something for my house.”

“Do you know the automobile repairer, Jack Weeden, who has a place over in Astoria?”

“I do, sir. I rode out that way on a case several weeks ago, and one of the tires on my wheel burst, and I had to stop in his place to have it fixed.”

“I want you to go to Wright’s house and get him and bring him here to me. This is very important, and I want you to say nothing to any of the men about where you are going.”

“I understand, sir, and I will be back as soon as possible.”

After the man had left the room, the inspector turned to Nick and said:

“Well, what do you think of it now, Mr. Carter?”

“I hardly know what to say about it, and, to tell you the truth, I have been so worried over having to leave the inspector from the New York office that I have not really had time to think out much of anything, especially as I have had such an exciting time since I left him at the doctor’s.”

Nick then related all that had occurred when he and Inspector Ward had visited the repair shop of Jack Weeden.

While waiting for the return of the man Edwards, who had been sent to bring Wright, the crockery man, to headquarters, they discussed the beggar, Jack Weeden, and the gang of ruffians that had been terrorizing Astoria.

“What plan do you propose to follow in the work on this case?” asked Nick.

“I shall have one or two of my men keep an eye on the place, and such other work that you may desire, and such that will not interfere with you in any way,” replied the inspector.

“This is, indeed, ‘Mystery 47,’ and it has been a mystery too long, and I intend to clear it up. I feel that my reputation is at stake, and, besides, I have a private score to settle; you know that they killed one of my men, Tom Sweet, and I am confident that they were at the bottom of the attack that was made on your officers to-day.”

An hour had elapsed since Edwards had taken his departure.

Nick looked at his watch, and suggested that perhaps the man had not found Wright at home, and had been looking him up.

As he said this, the door opened, and Edwards, accompanied by two men, entered the room.

The second man was the doctor that Nick had left Inspector Ward with.

“I am delighted to see you, Mr. Jack Weeden,” the inspector said, as soon as he got a good look at the man standing by Edwards’ side.

“Shut that door, and allow no one to leave the room, unless I tell you so,” and as he said so, he advanced toward the man that he had called Jack Weeden.