As Henry had stated, the vault was by no means of large extent.

Indeed, several of the apartments for the living, at the hall, were much larger than was that one destined for the dead.
The atmosphere was dump and noisome, but not by any means so bad as might have been expected, considering the number of months which had elapsed since last the vault was opened to receive one of its ghastly and still visitants.
"Now for one of your lights.

Mr.Chillingworth.You say you have the candles, I think, Marchdale, although you forgot the matches." "I have.

They are here." Marchdale took from his pocket a parcel which contained several wax candles, and when it was opened, a smaller packet fell to the ground.
"Why, these are instantaneous matches," said Mr.Chillingworth, as he lifted the small packet up.
"They are; and what a fruitless journey I should have had back to the hall," said Mr.Marchdale, "if you had not been so well provided as you are with the means of getting a light.

These matches, which I thought I had not with me, have been, in the hurry of departure, enclosed, you see, with the candles.