Without laying claim to such a distinction, I took the paper and read:
THE POISONED KISS AGAIN
Three More New York Women Report Being Kissed by Mysterious
Stranger—Later Fell into Deep Unconsciousness. What Is It?
I had scarcely finished, when one of the copy boys, dashing past me, called, "You're wanted on the wire, Mr. Jameson."
I hurried over to the telephone and answered.
A musical voice responded to my hurried hello, and I hastened to adopt my most polite tone.
"Is this Mr. Jameson?" asked the voice.
"Yes," I replied, not recognizing it.
"Well, Mr. Jameson, I've heard of you on the Star and I've just had a very strange experience. I've had the poisoned kiss."
The woman did not pause to catch my exclamation of astonishment, but went on, "It was like this. A man ran up to me on the street and kissed me—and—I don't know how it was—but I became unconscious—and I didn't come to for an hour—in a hospital—fortunately. I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been that someone came to my assistance and the man fled. I thought the Star would be interested."