“There is no side of it, Nick,” Clayton earnestly answered. “I am outside of the whole business, barring the assertions of others that I figure in the case, I deny that emphatically. I know nothing about the crime, for such it is, of course.”
“You were in your private office when it was committed?” questioned Nick, intently regarding him.
“Yes, certainly, as I have stated.”
“In company with——”
“I don’t know with whom,” Clayton interrupted. “I entered my office about half past ten, intending to write several personal letters. I had been there only a few moments when the door was opened, that leading into the hall corridor, and an elderly, well-dressed man stepped in and asked me to spare him a few minutes upon important business.”
“A stranger?”
“Yes. He mentioned his name, but I did not note it carefully and I cannot now recall it.”
“What did he want?”
“I asked him of what his business consisted, and he said that he wanted to confer with me about special hotel rates and accommodations for a wealthy Persian prince, for whom he stated he was acting as an agent, and who is coming to America incognito with his wife and a retinue of servants.”
“You then consented to talk with him?”