e as I came in,
before the light of my last match was blown out by the wind, had not the
door as I opened it formed a screen between me and the dead man on the
floor.

He lay in the midst of the wildest confusion. In falling, he had dragged
with him the cover of a table, and a glass lamp which was smashed in
pieces, the spilled oil mingling with the stream of his blood. A chair
had been overturned, and a broken plate and tumbler with the tray that
had held them were half hidden in the folds of a disordered rug.

But this was not all. The struggle for life did not account for the
condition of other parts of the room. Papers were scattered over the
floor: the drawers of an old escritoire had been jerked out of place and
their contents strewn far and near. The doors of a wardrobe were open,
and a few shabby coats and pairs of trousers thrown about, with the
pockets wrong side out or torn in rags. A chest of drawers had been
ransacked, and a narrow, hospital bed stripped of sheets and blankets,
the stuffing of the mattress pulled into small pieces. The room looked
as if a whirlwind had swept through it, and as I forced myself to go
near the body I saw that it had not been left in peace by the murderer.
The blood-stained coat was open, the pockets of the garments turned out,
like those in the wardrobe, and all the clothing disarranged, evidently
by hands which searched for something with frenzied haste and merciless
determination.

The cunning forethought of the wretched man had availed him nothing. I
could imagine how joyously he had arrived at this house, believing that
he had outwitted the enemy. I pictured his disappointment on not finding
the friend who could have helped and supported him. I saw how he had
planned to defend himself in case of siege, by locking and bolting the
door (both lock and bolt were broken); I fancied him driven by hunger to
search his friend's quarters for food, and fearfully beginning a supper
in the midst of which he had probably been interrupted. Almost, I could
feel the horror with which he must have trembled when steps came along
the corridor, when the door was tried and finally broken in by force
without any cry of his being heard. I guessed how he had rushed to the
window, opened it, only to stare down at the depths below and return
desperately, to stand at bay; to protest to the avengers that he had not
the jewels; that he had been deceived; that he was innocent of any
intention to def