Mixed Identities.
As Nick asked the last question the two detectives arrived at the steps of the white building in Mulberry street, New York, which is known as “the central office.”
“Wait until we hear Barney's report,” said Chick. “I put him on the track instead of following the chief myself, when you sent me out night before last.”
“You have a suspicion who our man is, I see.”
“Yes.”
“Why not speak out?”
“I'd rather hear Barney first, if you don't object.”
“Afraid of making a mistake, eh?”
“Yes.”
“All right, lad, here we are.” Five minutes later they were in the office of the inspector.
The official congratulated them upon the success of the raid the preceding night, and ended by saying:
“However, Nick, you haven't found the steel casket yet?”
“No.”
“Do you think you will?”
“Sure to.”
“How soon?”
“Inside of twenty-four hours.”
“Indeed! That will be excellent. Mr. Gregory was here to-day. He hasn't been gone more than fifteen minutes, in fact.”
“Rather early for him, isn't it?” asked Chick, dryly.
“It is only just ten o'clock.”' “He is very anxious about the casket.”
“Anything new regarding it?”
“No, only he seemed more anxious than ever.”
“You told him I was searching for it?” asked Nick.
“Certainly. By the way,” turning to Chick, “have you given Nick any further information about Gregory?”
“Not much, sir. I'll make out a report embracing all I know concerning him, and give it to you.”
“I should be glad if you would.”
“I would like to see Barney,” continued the assistant.
“He's out on your orders. You sent for him, didn't you?”
“Yes.”
“He hasn't returned.”
Will you send him to me as soon as he shows up?” asked Nick, rising.
“Certainly.”
The two detectives were soon again in the street.
“Now, Chick,” said Nick, “you are placed where you've got to reveal your suspicions.”
“So I see.”
“Out with them.”
“Well, when I was listening to the conversation between Gentleman George and Red Rob one of the things that I discovered was that we had been recognized.”
“Well, which one tumbled?”
“Gentleman George.”
“He has probably seen me somewhere when without a disguise.”
“That's just the point.”
“What is?”
“He did not know you at all, except by implication.”
“Eh?”
“He knew me, and guessed who you were.”
“Oh!”
“In talking with Rob he said that he never forgot a face.”
“Yes.”
“And that he recognized 'the young cub' the moment he saw me, see?”
“'The young cub?' yes.”
“There isn't a man in all New York who would know me aside from yourself, Patsy, the inspector and the superintendent.”
“Well?”
“The only person who would stand a chance of recognizing my face because he never forgets one—which implies that he has not seen it in a long time—the only person who would be likely to speak of me as a 'young cub,' is one who saw me frequently when I was a boy in Nevada, and who always called me a 'young cub' in those days.”
“And that person is Jasper Gregory.”
“Certainly.”
“Good, lad; you've hit it. Only——”
“What?”
“Why all this fuss about the steel casket?”
“I think I've tumbled to that also.”
“Well, let's have it.”
“First, I think the casket contains the papers that would prove his villainy about the mining affair in Nevada, and perhaps would explain the fate of his partners.”
“Yes.”
“Second, he robbed his own yacht in order to lead not the public, but his own villains away from suspicion of who he really is.”
“Humph!”
“Third, he did not mean them to get the casket at all, but they found it, and so he traded his share in the spoils for it.
“Fourth, he concealed it, and then the idea occurred to him that it would be a good blind to work the police on, and he applied to the inspector.”
“Well, go on.”
“Fifth, Red Rob—that is, Hatfield—had his eye upon the casket. He followed Big Jap, found where he had hidden it, and stole it. Big Jap has only just discovered that it is missing, which accounts for his call at the central office this morning.”
“Good! next——”
“Sixth, Jasper Gregory became a leader of river-pirates simply because his nature demands that kind of excitement, unless, as may be the case, we find that he lost his fortune and took that way to get money.”
“Did you learn anything about the girl, Sara?”
“Not a word.”
“Well, let's call upon Mr. Hatfield at once. I fancy the interview will be interesting.”
The two detectives went at once to the hotel where they knew that Hatfield was to be found when he was in town.
The clerk informed them that Mr. Hatfield had just arrived that morning, and saying that they were old friends, the detectives took the elevator, and went up at once.
In answer to their rap upon the door a voice said:
“Come in.”
They entered, and Hatfield looked up in surprise.
“I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, gentlemen,” he said, coldly.
“I am Nick Carter,” replied the detective, “and this is my assistant.”
“Indeed! To what am I indebted—”
“Mr. George Hatfield, alias Red Rob, the king of wharf-rats, you have in your possession a steel casket which we want. If you move a finger, I will shoot you!” said Nick, sternly.
“There is some mistake!” exclaimed Hatfield, faintly.
“There is no mistake. Own up like a man, and be brave for once. We know what we know, Bobby.”
“Well, I will own up,” exclaimed the river- thief, boldly, “and what is more you shall have the casket. Take me. You will find the casket in my trunk.”
He held out his hands which were quickly and securely manacled.
Then his keys were produced, the trunk opened, and the casket placed on a table before them.
“Do you know how to open this?” asked Nick.
“Yes. There is a tiny hole in the cover. Push the point of a pin in that, and the lid will fly up.”
Nick followed the directions, and discovered, as he had expected, a bundle of papers, also a gold chain and locket.
He opened the locket, and then uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“Sara Varney!” he cried.
“No,” replied Hatfield, “but Sara Varney's mother.”
“Then where is the daughter?”
“She is at this moment a prisoner in the house of Jasper Gregory, and what will surprise you still more is the fact that Gregory and I are brothers. He does not know it, for he thinks I died in infancy.”
“Ah! You haven't much love for your brother, I take it.”
“I hate him. He has always stood between me and success. There are papers enough in that lot there, Nick Carter, to hang him.
“You may as well know first as last that it was I who enticed Sara Varney from her home by sending a decoy letter which said that Arthur Grayling was in trouble—had, in fact, been arrested. I knew that such a story would insure her silence regarding her journey.
“I took her to a woman in Brooklyn, and kept her a close prisoner in an upper room, but the other day, when I went there, I found the house deserted and the woman and Sara gone.
“I traced them to the house of Jasper Gregory.
“A few words will explain why he stole her away. His partners in Nevada, as you will discover by the papers, were Sara's father and brother. He murdered them, and stole the property, although John Varney, Sara's father, had already amassed a fortune which eventually went to his daughter.
“I not only wanted to marry Sara Varney, but I wanted her wealth as well. Jap wanted the same thing. He has made Sara believe that he is her savior and a saint. He has convinced her, by forged letters, that Arthur Grayling is a scoundrel, and she has consented to marry the murderer of her own father, although she does not suspect him.
“I think the girl is half crazy, or she would not become his dupe.”
“And the checks?” asked Nick. “I have spent the money. Now do you duty, but don't forget that brother of mine.”
“Never fear. We will attend to him.” Hatfield—or in reality George Gregory, for that was his name—was taken to a cell, and then the two detectives paid a call upon Big Jap Gregory.
Nick sent in his card, and was admitted at once.
“Ah!” said Gregory, “any news of the casket?”
“Yes.”
“Indeed! What?”
“It is found.”
“Found! Where?”
“In the possession of of George Hatfield, otherwise Gentleman George, Red Rob, and so forth, river-pirate.”
“Dear me! Well, where's the casket?”
“In the inspector's office.”
“Why didn't you bring it with you?”
“He wished me to ask you to step down and identify it—a slight formality, you know.”
“Yes—yes—certainly. You have a carriage with you?”
“Yes, at the door.”
“I will go at once.”
And he did, never suspecting that he went as a prisoner; but when, in the presence of the inspector, he was confronted with his crimes, he knew that he had made a grievous mistake when he pitted his own sagacity against Nick Carter's.
Sara Varney was restored to her home, and ultimately became the wife of Arthur Grayling. Gregory had gone through the property stolen from her father, but the murder was avenged, and another famous case was brought to a successful issue by the great detective and his faithful Chick.
THE END.