“Todd, eh?” he asked tersely. “Sit down, please. This gentleman a friend of yours? I see. Very well. I have a question or two to ask, Mr. Todd. Know a man who calls himself James Webster?”
“No, sir.” Relief struggled with doubt in Jim’s face.
“Didn’t think you did, because I guess that isn’t the fellow’s right name. Know any one with a name like that?”
“I know a man whose name is Webb,” faltered Jim. “His first name, I mean.”
“Webb, eh? What’s his last name?”
Jim’s hesitation was pronounced, but he finally answered, “Todd, sir.”
Clem shot a quick, startled look at Jim. Jim didn’t meet it. He was staring anxiously at the police captain.
“Webb Todd? I see. Relative of yours?”
“Cousin; sort of. His mother and my mother were half-sisters.”
“Not exactly a cousin, then, my boy. Known him long?”