The great doors of the place set in a marble archway stood half open.

Over them were cut the cognizance of the floating swan, and beneath, in letters of faded gold, the titles of Acour, de Noyon, and Cattrina.

No wonder they were open, since the porter's lodge was occupied only by a grisly corpse that lay rotting on the floor, a heavy key in its hand.

The courtyard beyond was empty and so, save for a dead horse, were the stables to the right.

Passing up the steps of the hall that also stood open, they entered.
Here the place was in confusion, as though those who dwelt there had left in haste.