Before I start, a content warning. This episode contains some gruesome descriptions of death.

The first thing they noticed was the smell, like someone frying rancid lamb chops. The two men sat in their

flat in London and chatted uneasily about their midnight appointment with old Mr. Crook, whose shop was downstairs.

But ominous sights and smells kept interrupting them.

Black soot swirled around the room like the devil's dandruff.

It stained one man's sleeves.

And when the other man leaned on the window sill, his hands came away straight with yellow grease.

Give me some water, he cried, or I'll cut off my hands.

Midnight finally struck, and they descended the stairs.

Mr. Crook's shop was crammed with bottles, rags, and other hordid trash.

Walking through it was unpleasant even in the daytime.

That night, they sensed something positively evil.

They clung to each other as they crept along.

Crook lived in the back of the shop,

and outside his bedroom door, a black cat leapt out and hissed.

When they entered Crook's room, the odor choked them. Grease stained the walls and

ceilings as it painted on. They squinted and saw Crook's coat and cap on a chair. A bottle of gin

sat on the table. But the only sign of life was the cat still hissing. They swung their lantern

around, searching for Crook. They finally spied a pile

of ash on the floor. They stared stupidly for a moment before turning and running. They burst

into the street and shouted, help, help! But it was too late. Old Mr. Crook was gone, a victim of spontaneous combustion.

Charles Dickens penned this scene in December 1852, an excerpt from his novel, Bleak House.

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