“Either I want to shout,” said Mr. 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. Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea.
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