Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. The pistol, it was not loaded.
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