The Mansion of Mystery | Page 9

pocket without the policeman being the wiser.
"Has anybody else been here?" he asked. "I mean any outsiders."
"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."
"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?"
"Not the slightest. Another doctor was called in, and then I went back. The peculiar odor, or whatever it was, was gone, and I could find no further trace of it."
"You think it must have evaporated?"
"What else is there to think? The windows and blinds had been thrown wide open, and the sun was shining into the room."
This was all the young doctor could tell, and as he was in a hurry to get away on more business, the detective did not detain him further. He ascertained that Mrs. Bardon was also away, and then left the house.
In his pocket he still carried the bit of paper which he had picked up from under the safe. It had evidently been part of the wrapper around some small object, and bore the following, printed in blue ink:
nder & Co., ley Street, ter, N. Y. ark.
The paper might be valuable, and it might be worthless. It had evidently been around a small box or bottle. The address was evidently that of some firm doing business in some town in New York State. What the "ark" could stand for, he could not surmise.
As the detective left the Bardon house, he saw a middle-aged man entering the Langmore mansion. The man was well dressed and carried a dress-suit case.
"A visitor of some sort," he mused. "Perhaps a relative."
When he stepped up on the piazza Raymond Case came out to meet him. The young man wished to know if he had learned anything from the doctor.
"Not a great deal," answered Adam Adams. "Who was that man who just came in?"
"Thomas Ostrello, one of Mrs. Langmore's sons by her first