I took it with alacrity, figuring out the quickest way by elevated
and surface car to reach the address.
The conductor of the trolley indicated Prospect Avenue and I
hurried up the street until I came to the house, a neat,
unpretentious place. Looking at the address on the card first to
make sure, I rang the bell.
I must say that I could scarcely criticize the poisoned kisser's
taste, for the woman who had opened the door certainly was
extraordinarily attractive.
"And you really were--put out by a kiss?" I queried, as she led me
into a neat sitting room.
"Absolutely--as much as if it had been by one of these poisoned
needles you read about," she replied confidently, hastening on to
describe the affair volubly.
It was beyond me.
"May I use your telephone?" I asked.
"Surely," she answered.
I called the laboratory. "Is that you, Craig?" I inquired.
"Yes, Walter," he answered, recognizing my voice.
"Say, Craig," I asked breathlessly, "what sort of kiss would
suffocate a person."
My only answer was an uproarious laugh from him at the idea.
"I know," I persisted, "but I've got the assignment from the Star-
-and I'm out here interviewing a woman about it. It's all right to
laugh--but here I am. I've found a case--names, dates and places.
I wish you'd explain the thing, then.
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