“That’s all right,” Nick went on, in a low tone. “I’m a detective, and I want it to appear as though I have received a bad wound and may be laid up for a month. Are you willing to help out the cause of justice by creating such an impression?” “I don’t understand----” “Of course you don’t, and it isn’t necessary that you should. I want you to come here about every three hours and pretend to have seen a patient. That’s easy enough, isn’t it? Here’s a twenty to pay you in advance for your services.” “All right,” answered the physician, taking the money. “Now let me see the shoulder.” Nick divested himself of coat and vest and opened his shirt at the neck. The wound was only a slight one, as the detective had said, and the doctor quickly attended to it and prepared to leave. “Mind,” warned Nick, “you think I may be laid up for some time.” “All right,” laughed the doctor. “You detectives are queer fish.” “We have to be,” answered Nick, stretching himself out on the bed again. The chief came in just as the doctor went out. “How do you find him, doc?” the chief asked, anxiously. “Serious,” was the answer; “he may be laid up for a month.” The doctor went away, and the chief came up to the side of the bed. “This is too bad, Nicholas!” he exclaimed. “Lock the door,” said Nick. The chief was surprised at the strength of the detective’s voice. When he locked the door, he turned around and found the detective sitting up. “Say,” muttered the officer, “what in thunder does all this mean?” “It means that I am faking,” replied Nick. “Faking?” “That’s it. I wasn’t badly wounded: only scratched.” “Who could have done it? What was the motive?” “The motive was to put me on the retired list. Can’t you imagine who would want to do that?” “The bank robbers!” “Exactly. They have discovered that I am at work on the case, and they have tried to take time by the forelock and do for me. It isn’t the first time such a thing has happened, but it is the first time a telephone was ever used as a trap. That was rather clever.” “I’m over my head, Nicholas; I can’t get next to you.” “It was a put-up job to get me out of the way, chief. I was called into the telephone box by a man who told me I could call him the man from Montana. This fellow acknowledged that he had lured me there for the purpose of having me shot. That much he told me, and then his confederate in the court blazed away.” “The audacity of it!” exclaimed the amazed officer. “More proof that these bank robbers are old hands. Did you look around the court?” “Yes, but I couldn’t find a trace of anyone who might have committed the outrage.” “I hardly expected that you would. It was well planned.” “But why did you act as though you were half killed?” “Because I want these scoundrels to think that their murderous plan succeeded. If they believe that I am out of the way, it’s the biggest kind of a trump in my hand.”