There were letters to write and packing yet to do.

He set to work gaily.
At last everything was done, and he was stooping over a bag to fasten it.

The candle was in the window.

Suddenly a hand--a long, skinny hand--reached softly out from behind a large press, and swallowed and crushed out the flame.

Detricand raised his head quickly, astonished.
There was no wind blowing--the candle had not even flickered when burning.