He drew himself up.

"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?"