candle and the fire-tongs downstairs. I
was, apparently, calm but watchful. I would have said that I had never
been more calm in my life. I knew quite well that I had the fire-tongs
in my hand. Just when I ceased to be cognizant of them was probably
when, on entering the library, I found that my overcoat had disappeared,
and that my stiff hat, badly broken, lay on the floor. However, as
I say, I was still extraordinarily composed. I picked up my hat, and
moving to the rear door, went out and closed it. When I reached the
street, however, I had only gone a few yards when I discovered that I
was still carrying the lighted candle, and that a man, passing by, had
stopped and was staring after me.

My composure is shown by the fact that I dropped the candle down the
next sewer opening, but the fact remains that I carried the fire-tongs
home. I do not recall doing so. In fact, I knew nothing of the matter
until morning. On the way to my house I was elaborating a story to the
effect that my overcoat had been stolen from a restaurant where I and my
client had dined. The hat offered more serious difficulties. I fancied
that, by kissing my wife good-by at the breakfast table, I might be
able to get out without her following me to the front door, which is her
custom.

But, as a matter of fact, I need not have concerned myself about
the hat. When I descended to breakfast the next morning I found her
surveying the umbrella-stand in the hall. The fire-tongs were standing
there, gleaming, among my sticks and umbrellas.

I lied. I lied shamelessly. She is a nervous woman, and, as we have no
children, her attitude toward me is one of watchful waiting. Through
long years she has expected me to commit some indiscretion--innocent,
of course, such as going out without my overcoat on a cool day--and
she intends to be on hand for every emergency. I dared not confess,
therefore, that on the previous evening I had burglariously entered a
closed house, had there surprised another intruder at work, had fallen
and bumped my head severely, and had, finally, had my overcoat taken.

"Horace," she said coldly, "where did you get those fire-tongs?"

"Fire-tongs?" I repeated. "Why, that's so. They are fire-tongs."

"Where did you get them?"

"My dear," I expostulated, "I get them?"

"What I would like to ask," she said, with an icy calmness that I have
learned to dread, "is whether you carried them home over your head,
under the impression that