“There is something wrong here,” he said, almost in a whisper. “I feel it.”
“So do I,” said the girl, and stared about at the deserted space, shivering slightly. Then she looked upward into the clear sky. “It was as if a cloud had come between me and the sun,” she added.
“Perhaps it is just that everything seems so deserted,” said Stewart, and stepped through the gate.
“No doubt the people fled when they saw the Germans,” she suggested; “or perhaps it was just a rumor that frightened them away.”
Stewart looked about him. It was not only people that were missing from this farmyard, he told himself; there should have been pigs in the sty, chickens scratching in the straw, pigeons on the roof, a cat on the door-step.
“We must have food,” he said, and went forward resolutely to the door, which stood ajar.
There was something vaguely sinister in the position of the door, half-open and half-closed, but after an instant’s hesitation, he knocked loudly. A minute passed, and another, and there was no response. Nerving himself as though for a mighty effort, he pushed the door open and looked into the room beyond.
It was evidently the living-room and dining-room combined, and it was in the wildest disorder. Chairs were overturned, a table was lying on its side with one leg broken, dishes lay smashed upon the floor.
Summoning all his resolution, Stewart stepped inside. What frightful thing had happened here? From the chairs and the dishes, it looked as if the family had been surprised at breakfast. But where was the family? Who had surprised them? What had——
And then his heart leaped sickeningly as his eyes fell upon a huddled figure lying in one corner, close against the wall. It was the body of a woman, her clothing disordered, a long, gleaming bread-knife clutched tightly in one hand; and as Stewart bent above her, he saw that her head had been beaten in.