“I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. ” He sat down on her left side and put his hand on her knee, gesturing with his other hand. 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. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans.
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