Krook takes it, goes to the fire, stoops over the red embers, and tries to get a light. The dying ashes have no light to spare, and his endeavours are vain. Muttering, after an ineffectual call to his lodger, that he will go downstairs and bring a lighted candle from the shop, the old man departs. Mr. Tulkinghorn, for some new reason that he has, does not await his return in the room, but on the stairs outside.
The welcome light soon shines upon the wall, as Krook comes slowly up with his green-eyed cat following at his heels. "Does the man generally sleep like this?" inquired the lawyer in a low voice. "Hi! I don't know," says Krook, shaking his head and lifting his eyebrows. "I know next to nothing of his habits except that he keeps himself very close."

Krook takes it, goes to the fire, stoops over the red embers, and tries to get a light, in vain. Muttering that he will go downstairs and bring a lighted candle from the shop, the old man departs. Mr. Tulkinghorn, for some reason, does not await his return in the room, but on the stairs outside.
The welcome light soon shines upon the wall, as Krook comes slowly up with his green-eyed cat following at his heels.
"Does the man generally sleep like this?" inquires the lawyer in a low voice.
"Hi! I don't know," says Krook, shaking his head. "I know next to nothing of his habits except that he keeps himself very close."
