The scene was sickening in its evidence of wanton hate.
Yet I found no more bodies, or proof of further resistance.

Apparently the only serious fighting had occurred when the front door was burst open.

Had the other occupants of the house fled--up the stairs?
Or even out some back way?
I climbed the steps only to discover similar scenes above; every room had been ransacked, beds pulled apart, drawers opened, and the contents scattered about promiscuously.

In what must have been Mistress Claire's private apartment I stood with beating heart staring about at the ruin disclosed.

The large closet had been swept clean, garments slashed with knives, and left in rags; drawers turned upside down in search after jewels; the very curtains torn from the windows.