“That’s the worst part of the whole affair,” replied Tom, and even in the dusk I could see the lines of his face tighten.  “You know Uncle Lewis was a hard drinker, but he never seemed to show it much.  We had been out on the lake in the motor-boat fishing all the afternoon and—­well, I must admit both my uncles had had frequent recourse to ‘pocket pistols,’ and I remember they referred to it each time as ‘bait.’  Then after supper nothing would do but fizzes and rickeys.  I was disgusted, and after reading a bit went to bed.  Harrington and my uncles sat up with Doctor Putnam—­according to Uncle Jim—­for a couple of hours longer.  Then Harrington, Doctor Putnam, and Uncle Jim went to bed, leaving Uncle Lewis still drinking.  I remember waking in the night, and the house seemed saturated with a peculiar odour.  I never smelt anything like it in my life.  So I got up and slipped into my bathrobe.  I met Grace in the hall.  She was sniffing.

“‘Don’t you smell something burning?’ she asked.

“I said I did and started down-stairs to investigate.  Everything was dark, but that smell was all over the house.  I looked in each room down-stairs as I went, but could see nothing.  The kitchen and dining-room were all right.  I glanced into the living-room, but, while the smell was more noticeable there, I could see no evidence of a fire except the dying embers on the hearth.  It had been coolish that night, and we had had a few logs blazing.  I didn’t examine the room—­there seemed no reason for it.  We went back to our rooms, and in the morning they found the gruesome object I had missed in the darkness and shadows of the living-room.”

Kennedy was intently listening.  “Who found him?” he asked.

“Harrington,” replied Tom.  “He roused us.  Harrington’s theory is that uncle set himself on fire with a spark from his cigar—­a charred cigar butt was found on the floor.”

We found Tom’s relatives a saddened, silent party in the face of the tragedy.  Kennedy and I apologised very profusely for our intrusion, but Tom quickly interrupted, as we had agreed, by explaining that he had insisted on our coming, as old friends on whom he felt he could rely, especially to set the matter right in the newspapers.

I think Craig noticed keenly the reticence of the family group in the mystery—­I might almost have called it suspicion.  They did not seem to know just whether to take it as an accident or as something worse, and each seemed to entertain a reserve toward the rest which was very uncomfortable.

Mr. Langley’s attorney in New York had been notified, but apparently was out of town, for he had not been heard from.  They seemed rather anxious to get word from him.

Dinner over, the family group separated, leaving Tom an opportunity to take us into the gruesome living-room.  Of course the remains had been removed, but otherwise the room was exactly as it had been when Harrington discovered the tragedy.  I did not see the body, which was lying in an anteroom, but Kennedy did, and spent some time in there.