"Excuse me, but you are—" and he paused inquiringly.
"I am working on this case in the interests of Miss Langmore. My name is Adams."
"Oh!"
"What I would like to know is, What made you sick? Was it merely that a crime had been committed—something you were not accustomed to?"
"No, it was not, Mr. Adams. I am young, I know, but I have had a good hospital experience, and such things do not unnerve me. To be sure, Mr. Langmore was a good neighbor, and I thought much of him. But it was not that."
"Then what was it?"
"It was something about the corpse. As I worked I had to sneeze—something seemed to get into my nose and throat, and in a minute more I began to have cramps and grew deathly sick. It was the queerest sensation I ever experienced in my life. I haven't gotten over it yet."
"You had to go out to get some fresh air?"
"I did. If I had not, I think I should have suffered much more."
"And you found no trace of any poison, or anything of that sort?"