He proceeded to rap lightly on the door, then waited a little for a response from within.
No one came to answer his knock. He repeated it once or twice loudly with a like result.
"Are they all dead or asleep, or gone away?" said he, jestingly to himself, as he pushed the door boldly open and looked into the hall.
He saw nothing in the hall but a thin, blue volume of smoke that was pouring out of an open doorway on the right. With a bound he sprang inside and looked into the room.
A horrible sight met his startled eyes as soon as they became accustomed to the cloud of smoke that slowly rose over every thing.
Inside the doorway, at his feet, lay the dead body of an old woman, her aged features distorted and drawn as if by her dying agonies. Near the stove lay another horrible corpse, that of an old and deformed man.
The flooring in front of the stove had become ignited from the brands scattered over it, and was slowly burning through. The clothing of the man had caught fire and every shred was burned off of him, while his charred and frying flesh sent forth a sickening smell. The table with its unfinished repast stood in the center of the room. Several dishes had been knocked off in the furious fight of the old couple, and lay shattered in fragments on the floor. Chairs were overturned and gave silent evidence of the struggle that had gone on so lately in the now silent and deserted room. The detective stood as if rooted to the spot in a trance of horror.
He roused himself at last as he saw what headway the flames were making, like one starting from a dreadful dream.
"Heavens!" he cried out, "this is terrible. Murder and arson have both been committed here!"