“And all that time you saw or heard nothing uncommon?”
“Well—I smelled something.”
He made a perceptible motion of surprise.
“You smelled something? Did you say smelled?”
I nodded, taking a small degree of satisfaction in his discomposure.
“As I passed that clump of elderberry bushes I smelled ether. It was quite distinct. You know ether has a penetrating odour.”
“But surely that was unusual?”
“Yes. But the night was so hot and ether out there in the apple orchard so impossible that I decided I must be mistaken, that it was just the mingled scents of alfalfa and clover and other growing things.”
“Well—which was it? Ether or imagination?”
“I don’t know,” I said firmly. “I’m just telling you what happened. I know it sounds queer—but last night was a queer night. That dinner at Corole’s and everything,” I finished thoughtlessly.