The great doors of the hall were open.

They were on the porch now,--now at the door of the hall.
It was empty.

He paused a second.

"Katharine, Katharine!" he called aloud, a note of fear in his voice, "where are you?
Colonel Wilton!" In the silence which his voice had broken he heard a weak and feeble moan, which struck terror into his heart.
He ran hastily down the hall, and stopped at the dining-room door aghast.

The smoking candles in the sconces were throwing a somewhat uncertain light over a scene of devastation and ruin; the furniture of the table and the accessories of the meal lay in a broken heap at the foot of it, the chairs were overturned, the curtains torn, the great sideboard had been swept bare of its usual load of glittering silver.
At his feet lay the body of a man, in the now familiar red uniform, blood from a ghastly sword-thrust clotted about his throat, the floor about his head being covered with ominous stains.