As he said this, he moved forward a few paces, when, finding his feet glued to the ground by some adhesive substance, he stooped to feel what it was, but instantly withdrew his hand, with an exclamation of horror.
“God in Heaven!” he cried, “the floor is covered with blood. Some foul murder has been committed. The light!—the light!”
Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed. Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor.
“Sir Rowland is murdered!” cried Jack, as soon as he could find a tongue.
“It is plain he has been destroyed by his perfidious accomplice,” rejoined Thames. “Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!”
“True,” replied Jack, sternly; “but we have our uncle to avenge. What's this?” he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—it was Jonathan's memorandum. “This is the explanation of the bloody deed.”
“Here's a pocket-book full of notes, and a heavy bag of gold,” said Blueskin, examining the articles on the floor.
“The sum which incited the villain to the murder,” replied Jack. “But he can't be far off. He must be gone to dispose of the body. We shall have him on his return.”
“I'll see where these footsteps lead to,” said Blueskin, holding the light to the floor. “Here are some more papers, Captain.”
“Give them to me,” replied Jack. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames.”