completely forgotten the lecture on toxins.

"There is something about my guardian's death," she began in a
low and tremulous voice, "that I am sure will bear investigating.
It may be only a woman's foolish fears, but--I haven't told this
to a soul till now, except Mrs. Fletcher. My guardian had, as you
perhaps know, spent his summer at his country place at Bisbee
Hall, New Jersey, from which he returned rather suddenly about a
week ago. Our friends thought it merely a strange whim that he
should return to the city before the summer was fairly over, but
it was not. The day before he returned, his gardener fell sick of
typhoid. That decided Mr. Bisbee to return to the city on the
following day. Imagine his consternation to find his valet
stricken the very next morning. Of course they motored to New
York immediately, then he wired to me at Newport, and together we
opened his apartment at the Louis Quinze.

"But that was not to be the end of it. One after another, the
servants at Bisbee Hall were taken with the disease until five of
them were down. Then came the last blow--Mr. Bisbee fell a victim
in New York. So far I have been spared. But who knows how much
longer it will last? I have been so frightened that I haven't
eaten a meal in the apartment since I came back. When I am hungry
I simply steal out to a hotel--a different one every time. I
never drink any water except that which I have surreptitiously
boiled in my own room over a gas-stove. Disinfectants and
germicides have been used by the gallon, and still I don't feel
safe. Even the health authorities don't remove my fears. With my
guardian's death I had begun to feel that possibly it was over.
But no. This morning another servant who came up from the hall