"'Wait a minute—I've a bougie,' said Carroll, and struck the wax match….
"There were the old sconces, with never a candle-end in them. There was the large oval mirror, but hardly reflecting Carroll's match for the dust on it. And the broken chairs were there, all gutless, and the rickety old round table….
"But suddenly I darted forward. Something new and bright on the table twinkled with the light of Carroll's match. The match went out, and by the time Carroll had lighted another I had stopped. I wanted Rangon to see what was on the table….
"'You'll see by my footprints how far from that table I've been,' I said. 'Will you pick it up?'
"And Rangon, stepping forward, picked up from the middle of the table—my cigarette case."
* * * * *
Loder had finished. Nobody spoke. For quite a minute nobody spoke, and then Loder himself broke the silence, turning to me.
"Make anything of it?" he said.
I lifted my eyebrows. "Only your vigneron's explanation—" I began, but stopped again, seeing that wouldn't do.
"_Any_body make anything of it?" said Loder, turning from one to another.