Go, and let him in. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. “I can say no more. 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. It feels like I’ve got a snake of mucus stuffing my entire throat, just one big solid rope.
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