Unhappily for him it was in continuation of the same subject. Had he bought candles or not at the grocer’s around the corner? Yes, he had. Before visiting the house? Yes. Had he also bought matches? Yes. What kind? Common safety matches. Had he noticed when he got home that the box he had just bought was half empty? No. Nevertheless he had used many matches in going through this old house, had he not? Possibly. To light his way upstairs, perhaps? It might be. Had he not so used them? Yes. Why had he done so, if he had candles in his pocket, which were so much easier to hold and so much more lasting than a lighted match? Ah, he could not say; he did not know; his mind was confused. He was awake when he should have been asleep. It was all a dream to him.
The coroner became still more persistent.
“Did you enter the library on your solitary visit to this old house?”
“I believe so.”
“What did you do there?”
“Pottered around. I don’t remember.”
“What light did you use?”
“A candle, I think.”
“You must know.”
“Well, I had a candle; it was in a candelabrum.”