“I heard a man threaten to kill him this morning.”
For an instant Mr. Folsom was too astonished to speak, and stood with his mouth open, staring at Claymore.
Then he brought his fist down on the clerk’s desk with a bang, and exclaimed:
“Then, I’ll be responsible for tracking that enemy to the ends of the earth, if necessary. I’ll telegraph for Nick Carter to come. He’s in this part of the country, and I can get him here by evening, if not sooner.”
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 Carter a friend of yours?”
“I’m proud to say he is,” replied Folsom. “We’ve been friends since boyhood, and he will do anything for me, I’m sure. 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:[{9}]