“My name is Kerr,” the stranger said then. “I am a detective, and belong to the regular force here. I shall be very proud to work with Nick Carter on this case, if he comes, but it is my duty to get ahead on it, and clear it up before he arrives, if possible.” “Of course,” responded Claymore. Folsom nodded. “Now,” said Detective Kerr, “you may answer this gentleman’s question. Who is the enemy you refer to?” “You mean that man I heard threaten Mr. Judson’s life?” asked Claymore cautiously. “Yes.” “It was a farmer named Hank Low. He lives out beyond Mason Creek a few miles.” Kerr made a note of the name. “What led to the threat?” he asked. “The men had high words about a business transaction, in which Low thought he’d been badly used. As a matter of fact, Low was treated with perfect fairness.” “But he was hot about it, eh?” “I should say so!” “Where was the threat made?” “Out there.” “Near Mason Creek?” “Yes; on the oil company’s land.” “Well, do you mean to say that this Hank Low followed Mr. Judson to the city for the purpose of murdering him?” “No, I don’t mean to say anything of the kind.” “Then I don’t see how we can suspect Low. Mason Creek is some miles away----” “Yes, but Low was on his way to the city when we saw him.” “Oh, that’s different! Now perhaps we are getting down to business. The first question is, did anybody see him in town?” “I saw his wagon in front of a store,” said Claymore hesitatingly. “Why do you hesitate?” demanded the detective sharply. “Well, I just begin to feel that it’s a pretty serious thing to bring a charge of murder against a man. You see, Low was hot, and he shot off his mouth in a temper. I presume he didn’t mean what he said.” “It isn’t our business to think what he meant,” declared Kerr. “And we’re not bringing any charge against him. If he’s innocent, he can stand a little inquiry. So you’d better tell all you know frankly, and not wait till you’re examined in court.” “Oh, I’ll be frank enough,” said Claymore. “I know that Mr. Judson asked him to call here at half past three.” “You ought to have said that before.” Folsom, who had been listening quietly to the conversation, here suggested that an investigation should be made to find whether this Hank Low had been seen in the hotel. “I was just going to,” said Kerr. He opened the door and asked the clerk to step in. “Do you know anybody named Low?” asked Kerr, when the clerk was with them. “Yes,” replied the clerk; “there’s a farmer named Hank Low, from Mason Creek----” “That’s the man.” The clerk said nothing further, and Kerr asked: “When did you see him last?” “This afternoon,” was the reply. “Here?” “Yes--great heavens!” The clerk looked suddenly startled. “What’s the matter?” “Why, Hank Low called on Mr. Judson just before he died--or was it afterward?” “That’s a mighty important point,” said Kerr gravely. “Isn’t there any way by which you can fix the time?” The clerk thought a moment.