The animal skins which had adorned the walls had been torn down and
lay in a tattered heap upon the floor. The shelves upon which had
rested the professor's botanical specimens had been swept clean and
their contents also were scattered about the floor.
The bench upon which the girls had sat and partaken of the queer
little man's hospitality was overturned and the one chair in the room
was upside down on top of it. The whole room looked as though a
cyclone-- or a maniac-- had been at work.
The girls stared for a minute and then drew closer together as if
seeking protection from some unseen menace. They had some vague
conception of what had taken place here in this lonely little cottage.
The elderly and already nervous professor, reading the tragedy of his
sons' death, all alone perhaps, with no one to comfort or restrain
him, had lost his mind, temporarily at least, and had found an outlet
in ruthlessly destroying everything which came within reach of his
hand.
And if this were so, might he not even now be hiding about somewhere,
watching them, perhaps?
This thought seemed to strike the girls at the same time, for after
peering for a second about the room, they turned and made a concerted
dash for the door.
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