It was Billy Young.
The other fellow that had been captured was also wanted. He was Hall, the leader of the gang of outlaws that had attacked Nick in front of the repair shop kept by Jack Weeden.
When the ambulance arrived, the surgeon in charge saw the man who had been shot was mortally wounded, and could not live over five minutes.
Nick knelt down by the side of the man, who had now recovered consciousness.
Young looked up and smiled.
“I guess that you hold the winning hand, Nick Carter,” he said. “I tried my best to do you, and would have succeeded if that fool reporter had not been so good with his gun play. You have won a good fight, and I give you credit.”
“Young, you are dying! Why don’t you tell me what you know about Jack Weeden and that gang? It may help to atone for the crimes that you have committed in this world,” said Nick quietly.
“I never yet have squealed, and I don’t intend to begin now,” was the answer of the dying man. “I would tell you if I ever told anybody, as you are the gamest and squarest man in the business, but I can’t die a squealer. I—I——”
With a gasp, his head rolled to one side, and the man who had helped to kill Tom Sweet was dead.
The policemen took their prisoner to the station house, where he was held on the charge of attempted murder.