There was a murmur from the crowd. Everybody, unless it was Claymore, seemed to think that this would be the best possible plan. After a moment, he asked: “Is Nick Carter a friend of yours?” “I met him not long ago,” replied Folsom. “He’ll come; I know he’ll come if he’s not too far away. I can’t rest as long as there’s any shadow of doubt that I worried poor Judson to his death.” “The local police on such a plain case,” began Claymore, but Folsom interrupted: “I said I’d take the responsibility, and I will. Let the local police do all they can. It won’t do any harm to have Nick Carter also on the spot. I’ll wire him at once.” He reached for a pad of telegraph blanks, and wrote a dispatch, which he gave to the clerk with a request that it be sent to the office in a hurry. A bell boy went off with it on the run. Then Folsom turned again to Claymore. “Who is this enemy of Judson’s you speak of?” he asked. A man who had been quietly listening to the conversation touched Claymore on the shoulder. “Don’t answer that question just yet,” he said. At the same time he pulled aside the lapel of his coat. Claymore and Folsom both saw a badge pinned to his vest. “Come into the office a minute, both of you,” added the stranger. The two men followed him into the hotel manager’s private room, and the door was closed. “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 the 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!” “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 the store,” said Claymore, hesitatingly. “Why do you hesitate?” demanded the detective sharply.