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.