“He’s a Denver business man,” replied Kerr. “I have no acquaintance with him. I believe he hasn’t been here more than a year or so.”
“Less than a year, I guess,” said Folsom.
“Why, do you know him?” asked Nick.
“No,” replied Folsom, “except as I have talked with him this afternoon, but I remember now that his name is on the letters sent out by the oil company of which Judson was president. Claymore is the secretary of the concern, I believe.”
“But you hadn’t met him before?”
“No; and I didn’t hear his name till late in the day, and even then I didn’t connect him with the company, though I remember wondering a little how he knew so much about poor Judson. You see, I was terribly excited.”
“No wonder.”
“It worries me a great deal,” continued Folsom, “to think that my angry words might have led Judson to suicide. He meant well, I am sure of that, and he was deceived by the rascals as much as the rest of us.”
“Hum!” murmured Nick; “seems to me that’s setting Claymore out in rather a black light.”
“Yes, it is. I hadn’t given it much thought, for my attention was taken up with the death of Judson, but I have no doubt that Claymore is crooked. A dishonest promoter, you know. One of these fellows who know how to swindle and keep on the right side of the law. Don’t you think so?”