Chapter XLVII: Almost Exposed

The scene was a dramatic one.

On the face of the supposed automobile repairer there was depicted amazement mingled with terror.

His face was ashen, his hands trembled, and he tried to speak, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

The doctor’s face was a study; he was surprised and bewildered.

On the face of Nick Carter there was a quiet smile as he watched the man who had been brought into the station.

The doctor was the first to recover his presence of mind.

“I demand to know what this outrage means?” he cried haughtily. “Is it meant as an insult? If so, I will see that the commissioner of police attends to the matter!”

“I can assure you that it is not meant as an insult, sir; it is a most serious matter, and I would advise you to keep your temper. If there has been a mistake, no one will be the wiser; if there has not, then your friend will be treated as the law provides,” said the inspector.

Turning from the doctor, he faced the man that a moment before he had addressed as Jack Weeden, and said:

“I am sure that I am more than pleased to see you, Mr. Weeden. We have been looking for you all day, and this is an unexpected pleasure, I can assure you.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Inspector, but the gentleman that you are talking to is not Mr. Weeden, as you have addressed him,” said the doctor.

“If that is not his name, what is it?”

“My friend’s name is Wright,” replied the physician.

“Why, how singular,” sarcastically said the chief. “I am amazed; I am sure that he is Weeden.”

“Well, I guess that this is one of the times that you are mistaken. This gentleman is an old friend of mine; he is in the crockery business, and I have seen your man Edwards, here, in his store within the last day or two.”

“Who do you think this man is, Edwards?” asked the inspector.

“I really do not know who he is, I am sure. I never met the man until I went into his store to-night, when you sent me after him; he may be Weeden, or he may be Wright. I only know that when I went into the store after him to-night he seemed to act as if he owned the place, and was at the safe putting away some books. He did not seem anxious to come with me, but his friend over there,” nodding in the direction of the doctor, “told him that the best thing he could do would be to come without any delay, as he would then avoid any notoriety. He finally agreed to come if I would let him empty a bottle of chemicals that he had been experimenting with. He said that it was a patent that he was working on, and that he did not want to let any one find out what it was, as, if they did, it would mean the loss of a great fortune to him. This seemed to be a reasonable request, and so I let him pour the stuff out into a sink that was in the back of the store.”

“That is all that you know about him, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man who was the subject of the discussion broke out into a hearty laugh.

There was a false ring to it, and Nick Carter’s keen ear noted it.

“Then you deny that you are Jack Weeden?” continued the inspector.

“I certainly deny that I am Jack Weeden, or any one else that you may call me, except Mr. Wright. The latter is my name, and I would have you understand that I am not in the habit of masquerading as some one else. I trust that you are through with me, and we shall be allowed to take our departure. This indignity has been great enough without prolonging it.”

“I am here to do my duty, no matter how unpleasant it may be, and until I am satisfied that what you are telling me is the truth I will be compelled to force you to stay.”

“I suppose, then, that the best thing that I can do is to answer your questions, although I want to tell you that you will hear from this.”

“If you are not Jack Weeden, then who are you?”

“My friend has told you who I am, and that should be sufficient.”

The man was evidently playing for time. He wanted to think before he answered any question as to his identity.

“I want you to answer the questions that I put to you,” said the inspector sternly.

“I suppose that I must answer, then. I am Mr. Wright.”

“What is your business?”

“I am in the crockery business, at the place where your man found me to-night.”

“How long have you been in that location?”

“I have been there for a few months.”

“How long have you been in the crockery business altogether?”

“About five years.”

“Where were you in business before you came to this city?”

“I was in business in Washington, D. C.”

“Where was your store located there?”

“Nine-forty-five M Street, Northwest.”

“You are certain of that, are you?”

“I am.”

“Kindly step over to my desk and look at the business directory that you will find in the lower left-hand corner, and see if that address is correct,” said the inspector to Nick.

The face of Wright grew ashen.

Nick saw the change, and concluded that the man was trapped.

Nick opened the directory, and went carefully over the list of Wrights.

“Here it is,” he said: “Wright, crockery, 941 M Street, Northwest.”

A sigh of relief escaped both the doctor and Wright as Nick said this.

“But you said nine hundred and forty-five,” corrected Nick sharply.

“Did I? Well, then, really, I made a slight mistake,” said the man insolently.

His bravado had returned.

“I have visited him there,” spoke up the doctor.

“I was ill there, and I do not like to think of the place,” said Wright.

“Your appearance was that of a sick man when the inspector suggested the directory,” said Nick dryly.

Wright gave Nick a look of hatred which was met with a scornful smile on the face of the detective.

“How did you come to make that mistake?” asked the inspector.

“I just made a slip of the tongue,” answered the man.

“I understand you were at the place where the rioting occurred to-day, and that you were the man that had a rope and wanted to lynch the man who had shot his wife. Is that not true?”

“I was not near the place where the trouble was, I can assure you. I only heard of the trouble in a most casual way.”

“You are perfectly sure of that statement?” persisted the inspector, as he looked at Nick.

“I have already answered that question,” said Wright angrily.

“What would you say if I were to bring a dozen people here that would swear that they saw you there?”

“It would not make any difference to me if you brought a thousand. I could bring twenty or more that will testify that I did not leave my store until I came here with your man.”

“Did you ever see this man before? Did you see him at the riot, or did you speak to him at that time?” asked the inspector, pointing to Nick.

“I did not see him, for, as I told you, I was not anywhere near where the riot took place. I never saw the man before, and I certainly am not anxious to make his acquaintance.”

Nick and the inspector retired to one corner of the room, and talked over the situation. Legally, they could not hold the man, and Nick decided that he would let the two go, and have one of the department men follow them.

Nick was certain that the man was no other than Jack Weeden, and that the man was playing a desperate game, but he concluded that he had better allow him to depart thinking that he had fooled them than to hold him and have him discharged for lack of evidence.

“You don’t seem to take very much interest in your patients?” said Nick to the doctor, as he and his friend were taking their departure.

“I have had no patients in the last three days,” said the doctor.

“This was the limit,” said Nick to himself. Here were two men that he had seen earlier in the day, and now both of them denied their identity.