But his invariable habit was to speak to the point, and without the least suggestion of ambiguity in his words.
"I am very much afraid, gentlemen, that the murdered man is Mr.Henry B.Hunter," he said.

"I must trouble you to come with me, and place the question of identity beyond doubt.

I hope that you, Mr.and Mrs.
Curtis, and you, Mr.Devar, will make it convenient to await my return.
There are matters on which you can give me valuable information." In a few seconds the three found themselves alone.

The clerk had business to attend to, but he courteously invited them to remain in the office until the detective came back.
"Did you ever hear such nonsense as this talk about Curtis being mixed up in an abduction ?" began Devar, eager to dispossess his friend's relatives of any false impressions they might have formed.

"Why, he didn't know a soul in the States--except yourselves," he added tactfully.
The uncle, who had been polishing his domed forehead with a large handkerchief at intervals during the past quarter of an hour, cleared his throat as a preliminary to some important announcement, but his better half had only kept silent because of a real fear that her nephew had been engaged in the commission of serious crime from the instant he set foot in New York, and she entered the fray vigorously now.
"We don't know much about him, and that's the truth, Mr.Devar," she cried.