"Excuse me, but I think I saw you up to the Langmore house," he began.
"Yes, I called on Miss Langmore. I believe you are Mrs. Langmore's son."
"Yes. Come over, won't you?" Ostrello moved towards the window of the car. "I've got to have a smoke to quiet my nerves, I'm so upset. Will you have one?" And he presented a case full of choice Havana cigars.
"It must have upset you—it's enough to upset anybody," answered Adam
Adams, as they lit up. "It's a fearful happening, fearful."
"You are acting for Margaret, I heard."
"Yes—if there is a chance to do anything. Do you know anything of the tragedy?"
"Not a thing, outside of what I have heard. When I got the telegram I was fairly stunned. But let me tell you one thing."
"Well?"
"I don't think Margaret is guilty. A girl like her couldn't do such a cold-blooded deed. Why, it's enough to make a man shiver to think of it. It would take a hardened criminal to do such a thing. It's absurd to even suspect her."
"What is your theory of the murders?"