head and chest is consumed.  The residue is like a distillation of animal tissue, grey and dark, with an overpoweringly fetid odour.  They are said to burn with a flickering stifled blue flame, and water, far from arresting the combustion, seems to add to it.  Gin is particularly rich in inflammable, empyreumatic oils, as they are called, and in most cases it is recorded that the catacausis took place among gin-drinkers, old and obese.

“’Within the past few years cases are on record which seem to establish catacausis beyond doubt.  In one case the heat was so great as to explode a pistol in the pocket of the victim.  In another, a woman, the victim’s husband was asphyxiated by the smoke.  The woman weighed, one hundred and eighty pounds in life, but the ashes weighed only twelve pounds:  In all these cases the proof of spontaneous combustion seems conclusive.’”

As Craig finished reading, we looked blankly, horrified, at one another.  It was too dreadful to realise.

“What do you think of it, Professor” asked James Langley, at length.  “I’ve read somewhere of such cases, but to think of its actually happening—­and to my own brother.  Do you really think Lewis could have met his death in this terrible manner?”

Kennedy made no reply.  Harrington seemed absorbed in thought.  A shudder passed over us as we thought about it.  But, gruesome as it was, it was evident that the publication of the story in the Record had relieved the feelings of the family group in one respect—­it at least seemed to offer an explanation.  It was noticeable that the suspicious air with which everyone had regarded everyone else was considerably dispelled.

Tom said nothing until the others had withdrawn.  “Kennedy,” he burst out, then, “do you believe that such combustion is absolutely spontaneous?  Don’t you believe that something else is necessary to start it?”

“I’d rather not express an opinion just yet, Tom,” answered Craig carefully.  “Now, if you can get Harrington and Doctor Putnam away from the house for a short time, as you did with your uncle and cousin this morning, I may be able to tell you something about this case soon.”

Again Kennedy stole into another bedroom, and returned to our room with a hunting-jacket.  Just as he had done before, he carefully washed it off with the gauze soaked in the salt solution and quickly returned the coat, repeating the process with Doctor Putnam’s coat and, last, that of Tom himself.  Finally he turned his back while I sealed the glasses and marked and recorded them on my slip.

The next day was spent mainly in preparations for the journey to New York with the body of Lewis Langley.  Kennedy was very busy on what seemed to me to be preparations for some mysterious chemical experiments.  I found myself fully occupied in keeping special correspondents from all over the country at bay.