The chandelier was shattered, the glass gleaming underfoot; the stair rail broken into a jagged splinter, and a second man, shot through the eye, rested half upright propped against the lower step.

He was a sandy-bearded fellow, no better dressed than the one without, but with a belt about him, containing pistol and knife.

His yellow teeth protruding gave his ghastly features a fiendish look.

Beyond him a pair of legs stuck out from behind the staircase, clad in long cavalry boots, and above these, barely showing, the green cloth of the Queen's Rangers.

Then Grant had not gone when this attack was made, or else he had left some men behind?
I dragged the body out into the light so I might see the face--it was the Irishman who had helped in my capture.
I stood staring down at him, and about me into the dismantled room, endeavoring to clear my brain and figure all this out.