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.
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