After the policemen had departed with their prisoners, Nick Carter tore off his disguise and left the building.
He found Tambourine Jack waiting for him, and, telling the youth to follow, the detective went through an alleyway that led to the courtyard, into which Elmer Greer had leaped.
There he was, stretched on the cold stones, his pale face upturned.
He was not dead—far from it.
“You have got me at last,” he moaned, when Nick Carter bent over him.
“I thought you were killed.”
“I would have been, only I struck on some telegraph wires,” replied the fellow; “they broke my fall.”
Nick raised him to his feet and Elmer uttered an exclamation of pain.
“Any bones broken?”
“Every one in my body, I think,” replied the arch rogue. “Take me to some hospital; I must have cut myself. I feel the blood trickling down my leg.”
Tambourine Jack was sent to the nearest station house for an ambulance, and it soon arrived.
Carter accompanied his prisoner.
They went to the station house first, and then to the Hudson Street Hospital.
An officer was detailed to watch the injured prisoner.
Upon examining the patient, the surgeon on duty said that no bones had been broken.
Elmer Greer kept moaning all the while, and this led the physician to believe the man was injured internally.
Nick Carter was not to be taken in by shamming.
He really believed that his prisoner had suffered nothing worse than a bad shaking up, but he was humane enough to give Greer the benefit of the doubt.
The policeman who was to watch Elmer took a seat near the fellow’s cot.
Before leaving, Nick handcuffed Greer to the iron bedstead.
The detective left the prisoner’s bedside, and, as Greer thought, left the hospital.
Nick Carter seated himself in a chair, at the rear of Elmer, who could not see him; although no motion of his escaped the detective.
Soon a nun entered.
It was not an unusual sight.
She spoke kindly to several patients, and then seated herself at the side of Greer’s bed.
The fellow seemed to start when she partly threw back her veil; and Nick drew his chair nearer his prisoner.
The nun, who was dressed in the garb of a Sister of Charity, seemed to take more than usual interest in Elmer.
She drew from her pocket a package of fruit, and gave him a suspicious-looking bundle, which he hid under the bedclothes.
Nick smiled quietly to himself at this, and he laughed aloud when the nun leaned over the rascal’s couch.
The detective was at her side in a second, and tore the veil and bonnet away.
Louise Calhoun stood revealed.
“So! my fine lady,” he said, “you have taken holy orders, I see.”
“You fiend!” she exclaimed.
Nick Carter darted around to the other side of the bed, and drew from its hiding place the package Greer had concealed.
It contained two small files and a revolver.
Louise attempted to leave the hospital ward, but was prevented by the detective.
“I want you,” Nick said, as he caught her by the sleeve.
“Let me pass,” she cried, “I have done nothing.”
“No, not you!” he quietly remarked. “You did not stab me, and you did not attempt to obtain money by false pretenses from the banker’s daughter. You are an abused saint, you are.”
“I hate! I hate you!” she exclaimed, vehemently.
She called to the hospital attendants to save her from being kidnaped.
Nick Carter laughed at this.
He was more than reasonably sure of success; she, he felt certain, would talk rather than remain in prison any length of time.
Not wishing to walk through the streets with a prisoner dressed in woman’s attire, the detective engaged a coach and was driven to headquarters.
The chief was delighted at the capture; like his subordinate, he believed the woman could be made to talk.
She was taken away and locked in a cell, neither of the officers questioning her.
“After the woman is there an hour,” said the chief, “she will be willing to do almost anything to get out.”
In this Nick agreed with him.
Nick remained at headquarters for an hour or more, until he was summoned into the chief’s private office.
Louise Calhoun was there, and Nick’s superior was engaged in questioning her.
No tears dimmed her eyes.
Brazen and defiant, she refused to utter a single word.
While they were thus engaged, coaxing and threatening at the time, one of the attachés of the detective’s office entered the room in great haste.
“Why do you come in here without knocking?” demanded the chief, angrily.
“Excuse me, sir, but I was told to come to you right away,” said the fellow; “a telegram has just come in, saying an important prisoner has made his escape.”
“What!” cried the chief and Nick in a single breath.
“Elmer Greer, sir.”
“Thank God for that!” exclaimed Louise Calhoun, her face instantly becoming wreathed with smiles.
“Where was the policeman who was detailed to watch him?” asked the chief, while Nick gave birth to a series of expressions more forcible than polite.
“He left the room,” said the attaché, “and when he returned he found that the prisoner had slipped his handcuffs and got away.”
“Tell the operator on duty to send a telegram to the First Precinct Station, ordering the policeman to report to me,” said the chief; then, turning to Nick, he continued: “Mr. Carter, this is too bad.”
“I’d like to have the policeman in a room with the door locked, and a supply of horsewhips,” was the sentiment expressed by the detective.
Louise was taken back to the cells, and the chief and Nick Carter had a long conference.