When I finished my wine I stood and retrieved Mrs Eder’s invitation from the table top where, like the snake I’d imagined it to be, it seemed to have made a shallow burrow for itself among the plates. Crossing to the bar, I found the mayor had paid for my meal and only my second glass of wine had been added to my account.

‘I would like to look at your candles, Mrs Lehner,’ I said.

‘Candles, Inspector? Whatever for?’

The surrounding conversations came to a rather unnatural lull.

‘Do you keep a store?’ I said.

‘Out back, yes. Got a box of them. From the market.’

‘May I?’

‘I’ll bring them right out,’ she said. She appeared to recover swiftly from her surprise, and hurried now to be part of whatever romanticised view she’d formed of my work. Returning with a modest card box, she straightened her apron before leaning over the candles and staring at their perfect, creamy surfaces. To be sure, I picked each up and, turning them this way and that, found not even a scratch.

‘Are they safe?’ Mrs Lehner said.

‘As safe as anything we set a flame to.’

That did not reassure her.

‘May I check the room?’ I said.

She was reluctant, but eventually gave her permission, saying, ‘Discretion, though, Inspector?’

‘Of course, Mrs Lehner.’

And so I made the rounds of the room’s wall sconces, which held two or three candles each in various stages of their short, thankless lives. I did my best to give an air of casual wandering to my work, nodding and smiling to those sitting nearby, but inevitably I did not go unnoticed. Many patrons followed my progress with mild bemusement which, despite Mrs Lehner’s fears, did not develop into any kind of panic.

At the penultimate sconce I met my match: a particularly stubborn, waxed-in candle that was determined not to bare itself. To gain a proper purchase on the thing I had to commandeer a chair to stand on, much to the confusion of the two farmers sitting at its table. With a good deal of wrenching and twisting and muttered curses the candle finally yielded, though it had the last laugh: no marks. Nothing but smooth wax on its backside, and the flows of wax down its front were as natural as rainfall. Having returned the candle, I stepped down from the chair and lost my balance.

Stumbling, I caught myself on the shoulder of one of the farmers. He gave a grunt of surprise, but was otherwise unaffected. Mrs Lehner was at my side in an instant.

‘Are you… bewitched, Inspector?’ she said in an urgent hush.

‘I am quite all right, Mrs Lehner, thanks to this solid fellow.’

The farmer gave a gap-toothed grin.

Mrs Lehner followed me to the final sconce, unable to hide her concern. There I didn’t require the aid of a chair, nor did I find anything untoward. I said as much to Mrs Lehner, who was much relieved.