The Exploits of Elaine HTML version

10. The Life Current
Assignments were being given out on the Star one afternoon, and I was standing talking
with several other reporter in the busy hum of typewriters and clicking telegraphs.
"What do you think of that?" asked one of the fellows. "You're something of a scientific
detective, aren't you?"
Without laying claim to such a distinction, I took the paper and read:
Three More New York Women Report Being Kissed by Mysterious Stranger--Later Fell
into Deep Unconsciousness. What Is It?
I had scarcely finished, when one of the copy boys, dashing past me, called, "You're
wanted on the wire, Mr. Jameson."
I hurried over to the telephone and answered.
A musical voice responded to my hurried hello, and I hastened to adopt my most polite
"Is this Mr. Jameson?" asked the voice.
"Yes," I replied, not recognizing it.
"Well, Mr. Jameson, I've heard of you on the Star and I've just had a very strange
experience. I've had the poisoned kiss."
The woman did not pause to catch my exclamation of astonishment, but went on, "It was
like this. A man ran up to me on the street and kissed me--and--I don't know how it was--
but I became unconscious--and I didn't come to for an hour--in a hospital-- fortunately. I
don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been that someone came to my
assistance and the man fled. I thought the Star would be interested."
"We are," I hastened to reply. "Will you give me your name?"
"Why, I am Mrs. Florence Leigh of number 20 Prospect Avenue," returned the voice.
"Really, Mr. Jameson, something ought to be done about these cases."
"It surely had," I assented, with much interest, writing her name eagerly down on a card.
"I'll be out to interview you, directly."
The woman thanked me and I hung up the receiver.