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and the oil is there—and he is not there！”—Tony ends this with a
groan。
Mr Guppy takes the light。 They go down； more dead than alive；
and holding one another； push open the door of the back shop。
The cat has retreated close to it； and stands snarling—not at them；
at something on the ground； before the fire。 There is very little fire
left in the grate； but there is a smouldering suffocating vapour in
the room； and a dark greasy coating on the walls and ceiling。 The
chairs and table； and the bottle so rarely absent from the table； all
stand as usual。 On one chair…back； hang the old man’s hairy cap
and coat。
“Look！” whispers the lodger； pointing his friend’s attention to
these objects with a trembling finger。 “I told you so。 When I saw
him last； he took his cap off； took out the little bundle of old letters；
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hung his cap on the back of the chair—his coat was there already；
for he had pulled that off； before he went to put the shutters up—
and I left him turning the letters over in his hand； standing just
where that crumbled black thing is upon the floor。”
Is he hanging somewhere？ They look up。 No。
“See！” whispers Tony。 “At the foot of the same chair； there lies
a dirty bit of thin red cord that they tie up pens with。 That went
round the letters。 He undid it slowly； leering and laughing at me；
before he began to turn them over； and threw it there。 I saw it
fall。”
“What’s the matter with the cat？” says Mr Guppy。 “Look at
her！”
“Mad； I think。 And no wonder； in this evil place。”
They advance slowly； looking at all these things。 The cat
remains where they found her； still snarling at the something on
the ground； before the fire and between the two chairs。 What is it？
Hold up the light。
Here is a small burnt patch of flooring； here is the tinder from a
little bundle of burnt paper； but not so light as usual； seeming to
be steeped in something； and here is—is it the cinder of a small
charred and broken log of wood sprinkled with white ashes； or is it
coal？ O Horror； he Is here！ and this； from which we run away；
striking out the light and overturning one another into the street；
is all that represents him。
Help； help； help！ come into this house for Heaven’s sake！
Plenty will come in； but none can help。 The Lord Chancellor of
that Court； true to his title in his last act； has died the death of all
Lord Chancellors in all Courts； and of all authorities in all places
under all names soever； where false pretences are made； and
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where injustice is done。 Call the death by any name Your
Highness will； attribute it to whom you will； or say it might have
been prevented how you will； it is the same death eternally—
inborn； inbred； engendered in the corrupted humours of the
vicious body itself； and that only—Spontaneous Combustion； and
none other of all the deaths that can be died。
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Chapter 33
Interlopers
ow do those two gentlemen not very neat about the cuffs
Nand buttons who attended the last Coroner’s Inquest at
the Sol’s Arms； reappear in the precincts with surprising
swiftness （being； in fact； breathlessly fetched by the active and
intelligent beadle）； and institute perquisitions through the court；
and dive into the Sol’s parlour； and write with ravenous little pens
on tissue…paper。 Now do they note down； in the watches of the
night； how the neighbourhood of Chancery Lane was yesterday； at
about midnight； thrown into a state of the most intense agitation
and excitement by the following alarming and horrible discovery。
Now do they set forth how it will doubtless be remembered； that
some time back a painful sensation was created in the public
mind； by a case of mysterious death from opium occurring on the
first floor of the house occupied as a rag； bottle； and general
marine store shop； by an eccentric individual of intemperate
habits； far advanced in life； named Krook； and how by a
remarkable coincidence； Krook was examined at the inquest；
which it may be recollected was held on that occasion at the Sol’s
Arms； a well…conducted tavern； immediately adjoining the
premises in question； on the west side； and licensed to a highly
respectable landlord； Mr James George Bogsby。 Now do they
show （in as many words as possible）； how during some hours of
yesterday evening a very peculiar smell was observed by the
inhabitants of the court； in which the tragical occurrence which
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forms the subject of that present account transpired； and which
odour was at one time so powerful； that Mr Swills； a comic
vocalist； professionally engaged by Mr J。 G。 Bogsby； has himself
stated to our reporter that he mentioned to Miss M。 Melvilleson； a
lady of some pretensions to musical ability； likewise engaged by
Mr J。 G。 Bogsby to sing at a series of concerts called Harmonic
Assemblies or Meetings； which it would appear are held at the
Sol’s Arms； under Mr Bogsby’s direction； pursuant to the Act of
George the Second； that he （Mr Swills） found his voice seriously
affected by the impure state of the atmosphere； his jocose
expression； at the time； being； “that he was like an empty post…
office； for he hadn’t a single note in him。” How this account of Mr
Swills is entirely corroborated by two intelligent married females
residing in the same court； and known respectively by the names
of Mrs Piper and Mrs Perkins； both of whom observed the foetid
effluvia； and regarded them as being emitted from the premises in
the occupation of Krook； the unfortunate deceased。 All this and a
great deal more； the two gentlemen； who have formed an amicable
partnership in the melancholy catastrophe； write down on the
spot； and the boy population of the court （out of bed in a moment）
swarm up the shutters of the Sol’s Arm’s parlour； to behold the
tops of their heads while they are about it。
The whole court； adult as well as boy； is sleepless for that night；
and can do nothing but wrap up its many heads； and talk of the ill…
fated house； and look at it。 Miss Flite has been bravely rescued
from her chamber； as if it w