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Page 13
"A good many folks from the village."
"Anybody else?"
"Yes, a detective from Brooklyn. He thought there might be a job for
him, but there wasn't, so he went away," and the policeman smiled
grimly.
"What was his name?"
"I think he said it was Peterson."
"Is that the Bardon house yonder?" And Adam Adams pointed through the
window and across the side lawn.
"Yes. Doctor Bardon was the first to come over--he and his mother."
"So I heard. I think I'll step over and speak to them a moment."
"So you are working for Miss Langmore?"
"Yes, in a way."
"You'll have an uphill job clearing her. The coroner thinks he has a
clear case against her."
"Do you know what evidence he possesses?"
"Not exactly. He isn't telling all he knows," returned the officer of
the law. "There is the doctor now."
A buggy was coming down the road. It turned in at the next house, and
a young man, carrying a small case, leaped out and disappeared into the
dwelling.
In a few minutes more, Adam Adams made his way next door. An elderly
servant admitted him and ushered him into the doctor's office, where
the young physician sat marking down some calls in his notebook.
"This is Doctor Bardon, I believe. I just came over from the Langmore
house. I am working on this mystery, and I understand you were the
physician who tried to bring Mr. and Mrs. Langmore to life after they
were found."
"I worked over Mr. Langmore, yes," was the young physician's answer.
"I saw at once that it was impossible to do anything for his wife. She
had a weak heart naturally, and was stone dead some time before I got
there."
"You thought you saw a spark of life in Mr. Langmore?"
"Not exactly a spark, but I thought there might be hope. But I was
mistaken, although I did everything I could."
"I have been told that working over the corpse made you sick."
At these words, the face of the young physician showed his annoyance.
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."
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